“This is my room now,” declared the sister-in-law, shoving my belongings into the hallway.
“Emily, do you really think this soup is edible?” Laura wrinkled her nose, stirring the murky liquid in her bowl. “The potatoes arent even cooked through.”
“Eat what youre given,” Emily replied tiredly, not looking up from her plate. “This isnt a restaurant.”
“Im not just being fussy. I just want a decent meal after work. Mum always had hot roast dinner ready when Dad got home.”
Emily pressed her lips together. Here we go again. Laura had been living with them for six months since her divorce, finding fault every single daythe soup was undercooked, the house was dusty, the telly was too loud.
“Laura, if you dont like it, cook for yourself,” Emily said, placing her bowl in the sink. “No ones stopping you.”
“And when am I supposed to do that? I finish work at seven, and it takes me an hour and a half to get home.”
“So Im just the housemaid now?”
Michael, Emilys husband, shuffled into the kitchen, hair tousled from his nap, wearing a crumpled T-shirt.
“Girls, arguing again?” He stretched and yawned. “The whole flat can hear you.”
“Were not arguing,” Laura flashed her brother a sweet smile. “Just discussing dinner.”
Emily shot her a sidelong glance. How effortlessly Laura switched tones the second Michael walked insuddenly all charm and innocence.
“Mike, could you talk to the council about the heating?” Laura continued. “My rooms freezing. I cant even sleep properly.”
Michael scratched his head.
“Well, its the same for everyone. Its winter.”
“But maybe they can bleed the radiators or something?”
Emily silently cleared the table. *”My room.”* As if the living room belonged to Laura now. Theyd agreed shed stay for *a month* while she looked for a placesix months ago.
“Emily, wheres the blue throw? The one from the sofa?” Laura asked.
“In the wash,” Emily replied flatly.
“When will it be dry? Im *cold*.”
“Tomorrow.”
“And what am I supposed to do tonight?”
Emily turned to face her. Laura wore that helpless, doe-eyed look that always worked on men.
“There are other blankets. In the wardrobe.”
“Where exactly? I dont know where you keep things.”
Emily marched to the bedroom and pulled out a thick fleece.
“Here. Take it.”
“Thanks. And maybe dont wash this one straight away? Just in case I need it again.”
“Laura, we *have* a washing machine. We wash things *regularly*.”
Laura hugged the blanket to her chest.
“Of course. Its justat home, we always had spares of everything.”
Emily felt something tighten in her chest. Another dig about how this wasnt up to Lauras *usual standards*.
“Mike, have you thought about asking for a raise?” Laura perched beside her brother on the sofa. “Tom at my office just got a fifteen-grand bump.”
Michael shifted uncomfortably.
“Im not Tom. Different job.”
“But you could try. Everythings so expensive now.”
Emily decided to leave before she said something shed regret. She slipped into the bathroom, running the tap to drown out the murmur of Lauras voicealways so *reasonable*, so *persuasive*, while Emilys objections sounded like nagging.
Half an hour later, Michael knocked.
“Emily, come out. We need to talk.”
She dried her hands and stepped into the living room. Laura sat smugly on the sofa, while Michael stood guiltily in the middle.
“Whats going on?” Emily asked.
“Laura and I were talking…” he began. “Her rooms really cold. Ours is warmer.”
Emilys stomach dropped.
“And?”
“Maybe we swap for a bit? She takes the bedroom, and we sleep in here?”
“Are you *serious*?”
“Think about it. Were young, healthy. Lauras been through a lotdivorce, stress, shes always ill lately.”
Emily glanced at Laura, who sat with downcast eyesbut the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Thats *our* room, Michael. *Our* bed, *our* things.”
“Its just temporary. Until she finds a place.”
“*Is* she looking?”
Laura lifted her head.
“Of course! But rents are insane right now. Im trying.”
“How much longer?”
“Maybe… a month or two? Not more.”
Emily knew that meant six months. Or longer.
“Michael, lets talk privately,” she said.
They shut the kitchen door.
“Do you even *hear* yourself?” Emily hissed. “This is my home too.”
“I know. But Lauras my sister. Shes struggling.”
“And what am I? A stranger?”
“Dont be daft. Shes just… fragile right now.”
“And Im not? Ive lived like a guest for *six months*. Cant watch telly, cant have friends overI cook and clean for *three* now.”
“Dont exaggerate.”
“Im *not*. And now you want to give her our *bedroom*?”
Michael rubbed his forehead.
“Its temporary. A few weeks.”
“And then what? The whole flat?”
“Dont be selfish.”
Emily choked.
“*Selfish*? For not wanting to hand over my own bedroom?”
“Keep your voice downshell hear.”
“Let her! Its *my* flatIll say what I want!”
A knock. Lauras voice, sugar-sweet:
“Everything okay?”
Michael opened the door.
“I dont want to cause trouble,” Laura said softly. “Maybe I should stay with a friend instead?”
“No,” Michael said quickly. “Well sort it.”
Emily watched, defeated. Laura played the victim perfectly, and Michael always fell for it.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Take the bedroom.”
“Really?” Laura beamed. “Thank you! Ill be so careful, promise.”
By the next evening, Laura had already moved in. Emily came home to find her clothes dumped in bin bags in the living room.
“Laura, what is this?” Emily held up a tangled heap of dresses.
“Oh, just your things,” Laura called from *her* new room. “I needed the wardrobe.”
“*Temporarily*, we agreed.”
“Well, yes, but I need storage, dont I?”
Emily pushed open the bedroom door. Lauras creams and perfumes covered the dressing table. Her dresses filled the wardrobe. *Her* bedsheets were on the bed.
“Wheres *my* bedding?”
“In the wash. It looked dirty.”
“It was *clean*!”
“Well, *I* thought it wasnt. I like things *hygienic*.”
Emilys hands clenched.
“And *your* new sheets?”
“Bought them today. Bamboo fibreso good for the skin.”
Laura fluffed a pillow. “This is *my* room now.”
At dinner, Laura was radiant.
“Em, *thank you*,” she gushed, helping herself to potatoes. “I actually *slept*. So much warmer in there.”
Michael nodded. “See? Worked out fine.”
“When *exactly* is Laura moving out?” Emily asked.
Laura coughed.
“Emily, come *on*,” Michael chided. “She just settled in.”
“Im not rushing her. Just asking.”
“Em, I *am* looking,” Laura said pitifully. “But rents…”
“What about your ex? Alimony?”
“We… havent sorted it yet. Courts take ages.”
“So the divorce isnt final?”
Laura hesitated.
“It is! Just… assets are pending.”
Emily frowned. Something wasnt right.
Later, with Laura watching telly in *their* bedroom, Emily confronted Michael.
“Does it strike you as odd that she hasnt found a place in *six months*?”
“Why? Its tough out there.”
“*Is* she even looking?”
“Of course! She checks listings all the time.”
“Have you *seen* her do it?”
Michael scowled.
“What, you think shes *lying*?”
“I think shes *comfortable*.”
“As long as she needs,” he snapped. “Shes *family*.”
“And Im not?”
Michael stood.
“Im done with this. Laura stays. End of.”
—-
By the weekend, it got worse. Laura decided the master bedroom came with hosting rights.
“Em, could you *not* cook tonight?” she asked Saturday morning. “My friends are coming overwell order takeaway.”
“*What* friends?”
“Just girls from work. Long overdue.”
“Laura,
