**Diary Entry 19th October**
*”We want privacy, not your advice,”* my son said, glancing at his wife.
*”Emily, wheres your mother today?”* asked Margaret, peering at her young daughter-in-law over thick glasses. *”She promised to come help with the salads.”*
*”Shes busy,”* Emily replied curtly, still chopping cucumbers. *”Got held up at work.”*
*”Work again,”* Margaret sighed. *”When will she make time for family? When will you two have children? Youre not getting any younger.”*
Emily tightened her grip on the knife but said nothing. From the living room, the telly flickered onAndrew had returned from the allotment, where hed spent the day digging.
*”Andrew, love!”* Margaret called. *”Come set the table!”*
*”In a minute, Mum,”* he replied but didnt move.
Margaret exhaled and began unpacking the good china. Tomorrow, her sister and brother-in-law were visiting from Manchesteranother grand family gathering.
*”Emily, did you wash those tomatoes properly?”* Margaret asked, peering into the bowl. *”My stomachs sensitive, you know.”*
*”I washed them, Margaret,”* Emily answered flatly.
*”And those cucumbersslice them thicker. Men prefer heartier portions. Andrews always been that waylikes a proper plateful.”*
Emily paused and looked up. *”Would you like to cut them yourself, then?”*
*”Oh, dont be silly, dear,”* Margaret waved her off. *”Im only giving advice. Forty years running a household counts for something. Youre youngstill learning.”*
Andrew shuffled in, still in muddy trainers and an old jumper. His hair was tousled, dirt smudged on his cheek.
*”Hows dinner coming, ladies?”* he grinned. *”Feeding an army?”*
*”Were managing,”* his mother nodded. *”Though you might wash up and change. Look at the state of you!”*
*”Mum, Im at home,”* Andrew said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. *”Just unwinding.”*
*”Respect starts at home. Your wifes watchingwhat must she think?”*
Emily spun around. *”Margaret, I love my husband as he is. Work clothes or not.”*
*”Of course, dear,”* Margaret tutted. *”But a little effort never hurt. The Joneses son-in-law always looks sharpeven at home.”*
*”And what does he do?”* Andrew asked, draining the bottle.
*”Some office job. Doesnt come home covered in muck.”*
*”I work construction, Mum. Cant exactly wear a suit.”*
*”I know, but at least tidy up afterward.”*
Andrew waved her off and left. Emily kept chopping, ignoring Margarets pointed looks.
*”One more thing,”* Margaret perched on a stool. *”You keep the telly so loud at night. Im right next doorcant sleep.”*
*”Its not loud,”* Emily countered.
*”It is. And your talking. Last night, I was awake till midnight.”*
Emily flushed. Last night *had* been lateprivate words between husband and wife. The telly was only on to muffle sound.
*”Margaret, perhaps earplugs?”* she suggested. *”The chemist sells good ones.”*
*”Earplugs? In my own home?”* Margaret huffed. *”You should respect others peace.”*
Andrew returned, now in a clean shirt. *”Whats this about?”*
*”Just reminding Emily about noise,”* Margaret said. *”You kept me up last night.”*
Andrew and Emily exchanged glances. *”We try to be quiet,”* he said carefully.
*”Try harder. A body needs rest.”*
*”Maybe we should move out,”* Emily blurted. *”Rent somewheregive you space.”*
Margaret gaped. *”Move out? Wholl help me? Im not getting younger. This house is too much alone.”*
*”Well visit,”* Andrew said. *”Help when needed.”*
*”Visit!”* Margaret scoffed. *”What if I fall ill? Neighbours wont hear. No, were familywe stay together.”*
*”Then no more complaints,”* Emily said firmly. *”Family respects each other.”*
*”I *do* respect you! Just sharing wisdom.”*
Andrew sighed. *”Mum, enough for today. Emilys had a long day.”*
*”What did I say? Just practical advice.”*
*”We dont need advice,”* Emily snapped. *”Well live as we choose.”*
Margarets lips thinned. *”So Im a nuisance now. Forty years here, and suddenly Im in the way.”*
*”No one said that,”* Emily softened. *”But our life is ours to shape.”*
*”Your life! Who cooks, cleans, does your laundry?”*
*”We never asked you to,”* Emily said.
*”Oh, youre *so* busy. Im retiredthought Id help.”*
Andrew stared out the window. *”Listen,”* he said quietly. *”Were grateful, Mum. But we need time aloneno advice, no comments.”*
*”So Im to hide in my room?”*
*”No. Just respect our privacy.”*
*”Privacy? You live under my roof!”*
Emily set down the knife. *”Were husband and wife. We deserve our own life.”*
*”Life? Youre not on some desert island!”*
*”Exactly,”* Andrew said. *”Were a familyjust the two of us. Youre part of the bigger one, but not ours.”*
Margaret gasped. *”Not family? My own son!”*
*”You misunderstood,”* Emily tried.
*”I understood perfectly! Pushing me out after all Ive done!”*
Andrew turned. *”No ones pushing you. But we need our own space.”*
*”In *my* house, Ive a right to speak!”*
*”You do,”* Emily said. *”But not about our choiceshow we talk, dress, when to have kids.”*
*”Im not *forcing* you! But Id like grandchildren.”*
*”Youll have them when were ready,”* Andrew said.
*”When? Youre thirty!”*
*”See?”* Emily gestured. *”More advice.”*
Margaret sniffed. *”In my day, elders were respected.”*
*”Times change,”* Emily said. *”People want their own lives.”*
*”And look where its got us! Divorces, loneliness. Mrs. Higgins son moved outnow hes divorced, and shes alone.”*
*”Were not divorcing,”* Andrew said. *”We just want to live normally.”*
*”Whats *abnormal* here?”*
Andrew looked at Emily, then his mother. *”That we cant talk freely. That every steps judged. That Emily hesitates to leave our room.”*
*”Hesitates? Why?”*
*”Your comments,”* Emily admitted. *”You always find fault.”*
*”I *guide* you!”*
*”We dont need guiding,”* Andrew said sharply. *”We want privacy, not advice.”*
Margaret stood, trembling. *”Forty years a motherand my advice means *nothing*?”*
*”Mum, dont”*
*”No! If Im not wanted, Ill go!”* She stormed out, slamming the door.
Silence.
*”Shell sulk for days,”* Emily murmured.
*”What choice do we have?”* Andrew ran a hand through his hair.
From Margarets room, the telly blareda loud, pointed protest.
*”Should we really move?”* Emily asked.
*”Shes seventy. What if shes ill?”*
*”Then we endure?”*
Andrew pulled her close. *”Maybe shell adjust understand.”*
Emily leaned into him. *”I just want us happy. Without interference.”*
*”Me too.”*
The tellys volume spikedMargarets wounded pride on full display.
*”Tomorrow,”* Andrew said suddenly, *”well see an estate agent. Find a place.”*
*”And Margaret?”*
*”Shell cope. Maybe shell see were *family*, not staff.”*
Emily nodded, relief washing over her. *”Dont tell her yet. Let her cool off.”*
*”Agreed.”*
They finished dinner in quiet, minds racing. Emily imagined a tiny flatjust theirs. No eavesdropping, no censure. Freedom to laugh, to *live*.
Andrew thought of his mother. Would she ever accept their independence? Or forever see them as ungrateful?
The tellys drone fadedMargaret had gone to bed. Tomorrow, she might pretend nothing happened. Or stew in silence.
Either way, their course was set.
Emily pictured tomorrow: guests, polite chatter, the charade of harmony. Then, afterwardviewing flats. A future on *their* terms.
At last, theyd live as they chose. Not as Margaret decreed.
**Lesson:** Respect isnt control. Love thrives where theres freedom.
