Hell live with us…
The sharp, lingering chime of the doorbell announced a visitor. Lucy slipped off her apron, wiped her hands on a dishcloth and went to answer. On the threshold stood her daughter, Ethel, handinhand with a lanky young man. Lucy welcomed them into the modest flat on a quiet street in northLondon.
Hello, Mum, Ethel planted a quick kiss on Lucys cheek. Meet Victor; hell be staying with us.
Good evening, the young man offered, his voice a little tentative.
This is my mother, Aunt Lucy, Ethel added.
Mrs. Louise Whitaker, corrected Lucy, adjusting her hair.
Mum, whats for dinner? asked Ethel.
Pea mash and sausages, Lucy replied.
I dont eat pea mash, Victor said, shrugging as he slipped off his shoes and headed for the hallway.
Dont mind, Mum, Victor cant stand peas, Ethel whispered, eyes widening.
Victor dumped his battered backpack onto the sofa and plumped himself down. This is actually my room, Lucy said, a hint of amusement in her tone.
Victor, come on, Ill show you where well be staying, Ethel called, bustling ahead.
I quite like it here, Victor muttered, rising.
Darling, think of something to cook for Victor, Lucy prompted.
Ive only got half a packet of sausages left, Lucy shrugged.
Itll do with a dollop of mustard, some ketchup, and a slice of bread, Victor replied.
Fine enough, Lucy said, drifting toward the kitchen. In her younger days shed rescued stray kittens and puppies, but now she was dealing with a new sort of trouble.
She ladled a serving of pea mash, tossed two browned sausages onto a plate, nudged a small salad bowl forward, and began to eat with a steady appetite.
Mother, why are you eating alone? Ethel asked as she entered the kitchen.
Because Ive just come home from the factory and Im hungry, Lucy answered, chewing a sausage. If anyone wants more, they can serve themselves or make something. And I have a question for you. Why is Victor moving in?
Because hes my husband, Lucy blurted.
Lucys eyes widened in shock.
Husband?
Just like that. Youre an adult now, Ethel; you decide whether to marry or not. Im already nineteen years old, Victor said, chuckling.
You didnt even invite me to a wedding, Ethel huffed.
There was no wedding, we simply signed the papers and thats that. Now were husband and wife, so well live together, Victor replied, glancing at Lucy.
Congratulations then. Why no ceremony?
If you have money for a wedding, you could give it to us; well find a use for it, Victor suggested.
Right, Lucy said, still munching. Why here, of all places?
Because the flat has only one bedroom and four of us would be cramped, Victor explained.
So renting wasnt an option?
Why rent when theres my room to spare? Ethel mused.
Understood, Lucy said.
Will there be any food for us? Ethel asked.
The pot of mash is on the stove, sausages in the pan. If thats not enough, theres half a packet left in the fridge. Help yourselves, Lucy answered.
Mother, youve got a new soninlaw now, Ethel said, emphasizing the last word.
And what? Im supposed to break into a jig for that? Im exhausted from work; save the ceremonial dances. Use your own hands and feet, Lucy snapped.
Thats why youre still single! Ethel retorted, slamming the bedroom door behind her.
Lucy finished her dinner, cleared the dishes, wiped the table and retired to her room. She changed into sportswear, grabbed her gym bag and set off for the local fitness centre. As a freespirited woman she spent several evenings a week in the gym and the pool.
By ten oclock she was back, looking forward to a mug of tea, only to find the kitchen in disarray, as if someone had tried to cook and failed miserably. The pot lid was missing, the mash had dried and cracked, a packet of sausages lay open on the counter, and a stale loaf of bread sat without its wrapper. The frying pan was scorched, its nonstick coating scraped with a fork. Dishes piled in the sink, a sweet sticky puddle spread across the floor, and the smell of cigarettes hung heavy.
Well, this is new, Lucy muttered. Ethel never let anything like this happen.
She opened the bedroom door. Victor and a friend were nursing wine and cigarettes.
Ethel, clean up the kitchen. Buy a new pan tomorrow, Lucy instructed, stepping back into her room without closing the door.
Ethel sprang up and chased after her.
Why should we tidy? Im a student, I dont earn money for a pan. Do you care about the dishes? Victor complained.
The house rules are simple: eat, then clean; make a mess, then clean; break something, replace it. Everyone looks after their own mess. And that pan wasnt cheap; now its ruined, Lucy replied calmly.
You dont want us here, Ethel snapped.
No, Lucy said evenly.
She didnt want a fight with her daughter; in years past shed never had such trouble with Ethel.
But theres my share too, Ethel protested.
The whole flat is mine. I bought it with my own wages. Youre only on the tenancy. Dont expect me to solve your problems. If you want to stay, follow the rules, Lucy said, her voice steady.
Ive lived my whole life by your rules. Im married now, and you have no right to tell me what to do, Ethel shrieked. Youre old; you should give us the flat.
Ill give you the hallway outside the building and a bench on the common. So youre married? No one asked me. If you stay here alone or with a husband, he wont live here, Lucy retorted sharply.
Fine, you can keep your flat. Victor, were leaving, Ethel declared, gathering her things.
Within minutes Victor burst into Lucys room, swaying from the drink.
Dont worry, Mum, everythingll be fine, he slurred. Ethel and I arent going anywhere tonight. If you behave, well even be affectionate later.
What am I to you, mother? Louise snarled. Your mother and father are still here; go back to them and dont forget your new wife.
Right now, Victor growled, raising his fist toward his motherinlaw.
Lucy clutched his wrist with manicured fingers, squeezing with all her strength.
Let go, you lunatic, Victor snarled.
Mum, what are you doing? Ethel screamed, trying to pry her mother from the man.
Louise shoved Ethel aside, kicked Victor in the groin, then elbowed his neck.
Ill make a report of the assault, Victor threatened. Ill take you to court.
Ill call the police now so they can document everything, Lucy replied.
The young couple fled the wellkept twobedroom flat.
Youre no longer my mother, Ethel shouted as she left. Youll never see my children.
What a pity, Lucy said dryly. At least Ill have some peace for once.
She looked at her hands; a few nails were broken.
Just losses because of you, Louise muttered.
After they were gone she scrubbed the kitchen, threw away the ruined mash and the cursed pan, and changed the locks. Three months later, as she walked to work, Ethel appeared, thinner than before, her cheeks hollow, a look of desolation in her eyes.
Mum, what are we having for dinner? she asked.
I havent decided yet, Lucy shrugged. What would you like?
Chicken and rice, Ethel whispered, saliva forming. And a bit of Waldorf salad.
Then lets fetch the chicken, Lucy said. Youll have to make the salad yourself.
She asked no more questions, and Victor never turned up in their lives again.
