My mother-in-law thought Id support her out of fear after the divorce. She had no idea what I was really planning.
Lara stared at the elderly woman standing on her doorstep, suitcase in hand, looking for all the world like shed just popped round for tea. Valerie Petersonher ex-mother-in-lawwore the expression of someone who fully expected to be welcomed with open arms.
“Lara, darling,” she began in that drawn-out tone Lara knew all too well, “Ive got nowhere else to go. Daniels moved that whats-her-name Olivia in with him. And I dont want to be a bother to the young lovers, do you see? Theyre building their romance, and whats an old woman like me to do? Youll let me stay for a bit, wont you?”
Lara stepped aside without a word. What could she say? Toss a sixty-year-old woman onto the street? Yes, the divorce had been painful. Yes, Daniel had turned out to be *that* kind of manthe sort who, after twelve years of marriage, suddenly “found himself” in the arms of a twenty-five-year-old colleague. But what did any of that have to do with his mother?
“Valerie,” Lara said quietly, shutting the door behind her, “I dont understand. You have your own flat. Why do you need to live here?”
“Oh, Lara, my love,” Valerie sighed, flopping onto the sofa and untying her sensible shoes, “you know what my little place is like. Tiny. Whereas herespace! Fresh air! Daniel mentioned youre rattling around in this two-bed all by yourself. Whats the harm in keeping an old woman company?”
Lara clenched her fists. Of *course* Daniel had said that. How convenientinstalling his new girlfriend at his place while palming his mother off on his ex-wife. And did anyone care how *she* felt about it?
“This is just temporary,” Valerie repeated, already unbuttoning her coat. “Until I sort myself out.”
For the first week, Lara tried to be understanding. She made breakfast for two, bought the “urgently needed” heart pills Valerie kept mentioning, and quietly tidied up after her. Valerie was not the tidiest houseguestdirty dishes piled in the sink, clothes strewn about, telly blaring into the wee hours.
“Lara, sweetheart,” Valerie chirped one morning, “my pension is so measly. Could you spare a bit for groceries? And those blood pressure tablets. Im completely skint.”
Lara silently opened her purse and handed over fifty quid. Then another thirty for a “new heart supplement.” Then twenty more for “a little treat with tea.”
“Valerie,” Lara ventured cautiously a month in, as yet another request emptied her wallet further, “should we maybe live within our means? Im not exactly rolling in it either.”
Valerie spun around, eyes flashing with that familiar fire. Lara knew that lookthe prelude to a spectacular tantrum.
“What did you just say?” Valeries voice shot up an octave. “*Live within our means?* How *dare* you! I welcomed you into this family! Twelve years, I treated you like my own daughter! And now youre throwing pennies in my face?”
“Im not throwing anything, I just”
“What do *you* know about hardship, you childless!” Valerie shrieked, arms flailing. “I raised my son alone after his father passed! Worked three jobs! And now you grudge me a few quid for heart medicine? Ill tell the whole neighbourhood what youre really like! Ungrateful!”
Lara endured the scene in silence. And the next one. And the one after that, sparked by an “unsuitable” dinner. Valerie was a virtuoso of melodramahours of shouting, neighbour-baiting, and accusations of every sin under the sun.
After one particularly fiery performance, Lara picked up the phone.
“Daniel. Come and get your mother.”
“Lara, dont be like that. Im building a life here. Mums struggling since the divorce. And youve got all that spacewhats it to you?”
“Its my money, my sanity, and my peace of mind.”
“Dont be dramatic. Mums elderly, she needs support. If you can help, *help*.”
A dial tone. Hed hung up.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Lara realised shed had enough. Valerie acted like she owned the place, threw fits over nothing, demanded money daily, and never once doubted her right to do so.
*”She thought Id keep supporting her out of fear,”* Lara mused, gazing at the grey February sky outside. *”But she didnt know I had other plans.”*
The next morning, while Valerie was at the GPs, Lara called a locksmith. The locks were changed within the hour.
That evening, Valerie returned from her usual mooch around the shopsshe loved nothing more than complaining to cashiers about her lot in life. But her key didnt turn in the lock.
“Lara! Lara, open up!” She hammered on the door. “What kind of joke is this?”
Lara stepped onto the landing, arms crossed, watching the flustered woman coolly.
“No joke, Valerie. Pack your things. Ive called you a cab.”
“*What?* Have you lost your mind? Where do you expect me to go?”
“Home. To your son. Where you belong.”
“But I *cant*! Olivias there! Its awkward!”
“And was it awkward for *me*?” Lara asked calmly, watching Valeries face twist into its usual battle-ready scowl.
“How *dare* you!” Valerie screeched. “Im an old woman! My hearts not strong! You cant do this!”
“I can. Its my flat.”
“Ill tell the neighbours! Ill tell *everyone*!”
“Tell them. I dont care anymore.”
The suitcase was packed quicklyValerie didnt have much. In the cab, she fumed silently, clutching her chest theatrically every few minutes.
Outside Daniels building, Lara helped unload the case. Up to the third floor. The door swung open to reveal a bewildered ex-husband in joggers.
“Lara? Mum? Whats going on?”
“Im returning your mother,” Lara said, shoving the suitcase inside. “Valerie no longer lives with me.”
Olivia appeared from the bedrooma pretty blonde in a dressing gown. Her face fell at the sight of Valerie.
“But Mum cant *stay* here!” Daniel protested. “Weve got were”
“building a life together,” Lara finished. “Lovely. Build it. Without me.”
“Lara, you dont understand,” Daniel said in that patronising tone reserved for toddlers and idiots. “Mum needs help. Shes elderly, frail. Her pensions tiny.”
“Shes got a son. *He* can help.”
“But Ive got a new family now!”
“And Ive got a new life. One that doesnt include your problems.”
Valerie, silent until now, erupted:
“Daniel! Do you see how she treats me? Throwing an old woman onto the streets! Heartless! I loved her like a daughter!”
“Mum, come on,” Daniel mumbled, but Lara could see the panic in his eyes.
“Throw your own mother out if you wantthats on your conscience,” Lara said, turning for the stairs. “But none of you are setting foot in my flat again. I wont open the door.”
“Lara, *wait*!” Daniel called after her.
But she was already halfway down, ignoring the shrill shrieks behind her.
Back home, Lara fired up her laptop and booked a holiday. The money shed saved for new furniture? Plenty for two weeks in Spain. *All-inclusive*just what she needed after a month of Valerie.
That evening, Daniel called.
“Lara, how can you be so cruel? Mums in tears.”
“Let her cry in *your* flat.”
“But Olivia and I are just starting out! You *understand*?”
“I do. I understand its *your* problem.”
“Lara, be *reasonable*. Well figure something out, just not right now. Give us time.”
“You *had* time. A whole month, while I bankrolled your mother. Times up.”
She hung up and switched off her phone.
For three days, it buzzed relentlesslyDaniel, Valerie, even unknown numbers (Valeries cronies, no doubt). Lara ignored them all.
By Thursday, sipping coffee by the window, watching kids play outside, the silence felt blissful.
Then the doorbell rang. Olivia stood there, red-eyed.
“Lara, can we talk?”
“About?”
“Valerie. I know youve had a falling-out, but”
“We didnt *fall out*. I set a
