The former mother-in-law was coming for a visit. She didnt know theyd divorced.
Can you believe it? Margaret has no idea James and I split up, Lydia said. And shes on her way here right now.
She turned off her phone and gave her friend a panicked look.
Youre joking! Bella gasped. Here? To this flat?
Thats the problem, Lydia frowned. She thinks were still together. Said she misses the grandchildren.
Why are you so scared? Shes nothing to you now. Stop worrying.
Easy for you to say. Youve never met her. Shes a formidable womanconnections, influence. Shell think I deliberately hid it from her. And then shell suspect something. Shell want revenge.
You mean you havent spoken this whole time? Bella asked, surprised.
We had a falling-out. Last time she visited from Manchester two years ago, we had a huge row.
Over James?
Not just him, Lydia sighed. Everything, really. Margaret disapproved of how we hosted her, how we raised the kids, how… Well, you get the picture.
And?
What do you mean, and? She said her piece. I answered back. One word led to another. She stormed off, said she never wanted to see me again. Since then, shes only spoken to James.
And he?
What about him? It suited him just fine. Another excuse to blame me. He said if I didnt respect his mother, I didnt love him. Thats why his career was falling apart. Then he vanished. Not a word for a week. Then he called, said hed met someone else, and it was over.
So James never told her you divorced, Bella mused.
Apparently not.
Or that he took half the flat. Or that youre now in a cramped shared house with two kids, a cat, and a dog?
Exactly. She thinks everythings fine. Said shes got urgent business in London and needs to stay with us for a week.
Where is with us supposed to be?
Right here, Lydia muttered, glancing around the tiny room.
The doorbell rang.
Thats her, Lydia whispered, panicked. What do I do? How do I explain?
Just tell her the truth.
Shell blame me for everything. Start shouting. I cantmaybe we shouldnt answer?
Ignoring her will make it worse. Shell assume the worst.
The bell rang again.
Open it, Bella said firmly. And dont be afraid. Let her shout. Youve done nothing wrong. Im right here.
Lydia opened the door.
Hello, Margaret, she said softly.
What took you so long? Margaret demanded, striding in with two suitcases. Hiding someone?
No, I was just talking to a friend.
What friend?
Bella stepped into the hallway.
Hello, she said. Im Bella. Lydias friend.
Margaret gave her a disdainful once-over.
Is James at work? she asked Lydia.
Probably, Lydia replied.
Probably? Dont you know where your husband is?
Lydia shrugged helplessly.
Hes not her husband! Bella cut in defiantly.
Margarets eyes narrowed.
Meaning?
Exactly what I said, Bella shot back, chin raised.
*Ive always wanted to say that to an ex-mother-in-law*, Bella thought. *Shame I never got the chance with mine. At least Ill have my moment now.*
Lydia and your precious son divorced a year ago, she continued sharply. They split their two-bedroom flatwhich *she* paid forand James sold his half. Now shes stuck in this place with the kids, a cat, and a dog. Any more questions?
Margaret stared at Lydia.
Is this true?
Yes, Lydia admitted. We divorced last autumn.
Not that. Did he really take the flat?
He had every right. It was joint ownership. Besides, hes remarried now.
Remarried? Margaret repeated.
James says his new wifes expecting. Asked me not to pressure him for child support. Promised hed make it up later. Said hes struggling at work.
And you believed him, Bella scoffed. Naïve. He wont pay a penny. No work problems, no baby on the way, and shes not even his wife. Just living together. The baby storys a sob tactic.
Why didnt he tell me about the divorce? Margaret murmured.
Maybe he didnt want to upset you? Lydia offered weakly.
Perhaps, Margaret said, thoughtful. Perhaps.
In truth, James had kept it quiet for his own reasons.
*Let her think were still together*, hed reasoned. *Better for me. Mum loathes Lydia but adores the grandkids. Shell help me buy a place because of them.*
Every month, hed call his mother, complaining how cramped they were in their tiny flat. Hed send photos of the girls, knowing how she doted on them. Everythings fine, hed say, but wed be happier with more space.
Emily starts school soon, hed sigh. No room for a desk. Wed buy somewhere bigger, but my salary wont stretch. The girls even wrote to Father Christmas, begging for a flat near Camden Town. Sweet, isnt it? They ask about you all the time. But dont worry, Mum. Well manage. Emily can study at the kitchen table.
James knew exactly what he was doing.
*Shell find a solution*, he thought. *Maybe even sell that cottage in the Cotswolds. A four-bed near Hampstead Heath would do nicely. Ill nudge her in the right direction.*
Of course, hed add, we could sell your cottage. Use the money for a London place. Prices match up. Then Emily and Sophie could have their own rooms. But Id never ask you to do that, Mum. I know how much you love it there.
Now, visiting from Manchester, Margaret saw the truth.
I see, she said coolly. Where are the girls?
At nursery.
And your job?
I work remotely.
Who are the neighbours?
Just onea lovely woman. Didnt mind the pets. Recently divorced too. Shes at work now.
Lovely, Margaret smirked. Right. Well, Ill be off.
She walked out.
That went better than expected, Lydia exhaled, shutting the door. I thought shed scream the place down.
Two months later.
*Should call Mum*, James thought. *Remind her of my struggles.*
Mum, hi! How are you? Good? Great. Listen, things are still tight here. Four of us in that tiny flat. But Ive had an idearemember that cottage? If we sold it, we could afford a four-bed in London. Near Hampstead, maybe. Emily could finally have her own room. But Id never force you, of course. I know how much you love that place.
What do you mean, gone? Mum, what? Burned down? No? Thank God. Then what? You *sold* it? And the money? Spent it? On *what*? A four-bed flat? For who? The *kids*? *My* kids? But theyre minors! You can do that? *Why* would you?
Why didnt you consult me? Yes, I *did* say they needed space. But you couldve bought it in *my* name! You didnt because I wasnt home when you visited? When *was* that? Oh. I see. And wheres this flat? Near Kings Cross? Wait, Mummy visions… going dark… No, no, Im fine. Just overwhelmed. Thank you. *Thank you.*
The next day, James turned up at Lydias new flat.
For twenty minutes, he paced silently, inspecting every corner.
*This shouldve been mine*, he seethed. *All mine. If not for Lydias scheming. How did she sweet-talk Mum? No matterIll fix this. Marry her again, then make sure shes out for good. Shes got her roomshe can stay there.*
Lydia, he announced, after everything, we can start fresh. Mums forgiven youwhy else would she buy this place?
She didnt buy it for *us*.
Who, then?
The girls.
Same thing. And now, you *will* marry me again.
Will I?
James glared.
You misunderstand, he said. Im not asking. We meet at the registry office. Day after tomorrow. 10 a.m. By the lamp postremember? Near the entrance?
Oh, I remember.
Dont be late. You know I hate that.
I wont be.
Of course, Lydia never showed. James fumed. Called her. Shed forgotten. They rescheduled. She stood him up again.
*Again*, Lydia? he shouted.
Sorry, she said. Slipped my mind.
They postponed to the following week. Again, no Lydia. But James persisted.
Six months on, he still clung to hope. New dates were set, then postponed. Each time, he arrived punctually.
The registry staff watched in awe.
Now *thats* true love, they whispered. Rain or shineremember that storm? Trees uprooted! And still he came. If he ever stops, we should erect a statue. A monument to devotion!
