Your mother can stay with us; your parents may remain in the village, Edward declared, his tone as final as a judges gavel.
You spent four hundred pounds on what? A kitchen set? Ellens voice trembled, though she tried to keep herself steady.
Edward flung the receipt onto the table so hard the plates seemed to jump. Ellens heart leapt, but she forced a calm façade.
The set. The old one fell apart completelydoor came off, the worktop was mottled with stains.
Four hundred pounds! We agreed that any big purchase would be discussed first.
We did talk! I told you a month ago. You said, look for yourself.
I never said spend that much!
How much, in your opinion, should a decent set cost? Ten pounds? That was the cheapest I could find!
Edward paced the kitchen, his fingers twitching with nervous energy.
Every penny counts now. We were saving for a car!
We were. And well still save. But I need somewhere to cook right now, not when the car finally arrives.
You could have waited.
Wait? Would we be cooking on two burners for another six months because the rest are broken?
Edward turned to her, eyes cold.
If you knew how to save, wed have bought a car and a larger flat by now.
A knot rose in Ellens throat.
I dont know how to save? I count every pound to make it to payday. I buy the cheapest groceries and wear that threadbare coat for the third winter in a row.
Thats the problem! Youre the victim again!
Im not a victim! Im merely stating facts!
They stood opposite each other, breaths shallow, Ellen feeling tears gather but refusing to let them fall. No weakness, no crying.
Edwards phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then shouted, Mum, and slipped into the hallway.
Left alone, Ellen sank to the table, her head in her hands. How had they arrived at this point? Once they had never argued over money; once they had argued hardly at all.
She recalled how they had met. Ellen worked as an administrator at a dental practice; Edward came in for a filling. They chatted while waiting, he invited her for tea, six months later he proposed.
She was twentysix, he twentyeight. Both employed, sharing a modest flat in Manchester. After a few years they took out a mortgage and bought a onebedroom house on the towns fringesmall, but theirs.
Life was simple. Not rich, but never penniless. Arguments were rare and petty. Ellen thought everything was fine.
Then something shifted. Edward grew irritable, nitpicking, constantly bringing up money and thrift, even though his job as a senior manager at a large firm paid well. Ellens income, as a receptionist, was modest. She tried to help at home, cooking, cutting costs wherever she could.
But Edward never seemed satisfied. You didnt cook this way, You didnt clean that way, You spent too much.
One evening Edward returned to the kitchen, his face serious.
Ellen, we need to talk.
Im listening.
My mother called. Her health is failingblood pressure spikes, her hearts weak. She cant live alone.
And?
Ive decided shell move in with us until she gets better.
Ellen stared at him.
Edward, we only have a onebedroom flat. Where will she stay?
On the sofa in the living room. Well shift the bed to the kitchen and use a foldout couch.
Youre serious?
Absolutely. Shes my mother; I cant leave her to fend for herself.
Im not opposed to caring for her, but could we hire a carer? Or?
A carer costs money we simply dont have, thanks to your splurges.
Ellen clenched her fists under the table.
What about my parents? Theyre about seventy, my father can barely manage the house, my mother struggles after a stroke.
Your parents live in a cottage in Yorkshire. They have their own garden. Theyre fine there.
Theyre not fine! I travel there every week to chop wood, fetch water, tidy up!
Keep going, but my mother will be here.
Why does yours stay here while mine must endure village life?
Edwards eyes turned icy.
Because my mother is alone. Your parents are together, its easier for them. And in the city she has access to doctors, whereas your parents are used to the countryside.
Used to? Edward, do you hear yourself?
I hear. Your mother will stay with us, your parents can remain in the village. Thats my decision.
Ellen rose.
You decided, not we. No discussion.
Im the head of the household.
The head of the household who spends on fishing gear and a new rod, yet balks at buying a kitchen set for his wife!
Dont twist my words!
Im not twisting, Im stating! You think you have the right to decide for both of us, but when it comes to my parents, you treat it differently!
Your parents live comfortably!
No! Theyre struggling, and you never offer help! You never accompany me, never ask if they need anything!
Edward snatched the car keys.
Im tired of this. My mother arrives Saturday. Prepare a room.
What if I refuse?
This is my flat. I pay the mortgage. My mother will live here, whether you like it or not.
He walked out. Ellen stayed, sank to the kitchen floor and wept silently. This was her flat, her decision, her motheryet she felt like a servant, a shadow forced to accept every decree.
She wiped her tears, reached for the phone, and dialed her parents.
Hello, love! her mothers frail voice answered.
Mum, how are you?
Were managing. Dads chopping firewood, were stoking the stove. Its a cold year.
Mum, could you move to the city? I could find a flat
Dont be silly, dear! Weve lived here all our lives. Where would the money come from for a city flat?
Ill manage.
Never mind. You already do enough. Just dont overwork yourself.
Ellen swallowed another wave of grief.
Ill be home Sunday, bring groceries.
Come on over, love. Well be glad to see you.
Her parents never complained; they always said theyd cope. Yet Ellen knew the truth an old cottage, coal heating, water drawn from a pump, a father of seventythree barely walking after heart surgery, a mother with a weak left hand after a stroke. They survived, refusing to be a burden.
Her motherinlaw, Margaret Whitfield, lived in a twobedroom flat in Leeds. At sixtyfive she was in fair health, managing on her modest pension, though she still called Edward ten times a day, advising on everything from clothing to travel. Edward obeyed without question.
At first Ellen endured, then protested, but Edward always sided with his mother, insisting she meant well.
Now Margaret was moving into their cramped flat, and Ellen was expected to look after her, cook, clean, while her own parents were left to the cold village.
One night Edward returned late, slipped straight to the bedroom without a greeting. Ellen lay on the sofa, pretending to sleep.
The next morning he left early for work, leaving a note on the kitchen table: Prepare a room for Mum on Saturday. Clean the floors, change the linens.
Ellen crumpled the note and tossed it.
That Friday evening she drove to her parents cottage, brought food and medicine, helped her father split firewood, cleaned the house. Over tea her mother looked at her with concern.
You look pale, love. Everything alright?
Its fine, Mum.
Youre not fooling me. Youre upset.
She sighed. Margaret is moving in with us. Edward decided.
Fine, her father shrugged. An old woman can stay.
But we have a onebedroom flat. Shell take the bedroom. Well sleep on a foldout in the kitchen.
Youll manage, shell be shortterm, right?
I dont know. Edward said until she gets better. No timeline.
Her mother sighed. I understand, dear. Its hard with a motherinlaw under the same roof. But a son must look after his mother.
A daughter doesnt owe the same to her parents? Ellen blurted.
Her parents exchanged glances.
What are you talking about? her father asked.
I suggested we bring you to the city, get a bigger flat. He refused, saying the village is better for you.
My dear, were used to this life. The city would be cramped for us.
Youre struggling, Dad you can barely walk, Mum cant use her left hand!
We manage. Your health is what matters, love. And Edwards.
Ellen pressed her forehead to her mothers, tears spilling.
I’m tired, love. Tired of his attitude, tired of being second, tired of his mother being more important than my parents.
Her mother soothed her, Soon shell stay with us a while, then return. Itll pass.
But Ellen could not convince herself.
Saturday morning Margaret arrived with three enormous suitcases and boxes.
Ellen, help me with these! she called from the doorway.
Ellen silently helped. Margaret surveyed the flat.
You live so cramped! You need a bigger place!
We cant afford one now, Ellen replied flatly.
You should earn more! Edward, ask for that bonus at work!
Its not that simple, Edward interjected, arranging the boxes.
These days we work for conscience, not for fear, Margaret chanted, taking charge of the kitchen.
Ellen stepped back, teeth clenched, as Margaret ordered Edward where to place a chair, where to hang a coat.
Lunch was a tense affair. Margaret inspected Ellens borscht and meatballs.
Edward cant have fatty food; his liver is weak!
Chicken patties, steamed, Ellen offered.
Still not right. Give him fish. I brought a pike; Ill show you how to cook it.
I can cook fish, Ellen retorted.
Margaret waved her hand. You can, but not the way I do. Watch.
She pushed Ellen away from the stove, taking over.
After the meal Margaret retired to the lounge. Ellen washed dishes while Edward approached from behind.
Thanks for taking my mother in, he said.
Did I have a choice? Ellen snapped.
Dont start.
Im not starting. Im stating facts. You decided, I obeyed.
You could be kinder to her.
I am kind, Edward defended. Shes ill.
Shes a tyrant, and you let her run the house!
Enough! Edwards voice rose. Shes my mother! I wont let you insult her!
Im not insulting; Im speaking truth! Ellen shouted.
From the next room came Margarets voice, Edward, whats happening? Are you arguing?
No, Mum, all is well, Edward replied, stepping into the room.
Ellen stayed in the kitchen, wiping tears, finishing the dishes.
A week later Margaret had claimed half the wardrobe, spread her belongings across the flat. Ellen and Edward slept on a foldout in the kitchen, backs aching from the cramped position. Margaret rose early, rattling dishes, preparing a heavy breakfast Ellen refused, then watched television at full volume, then offered endless advice.
Ellen, youre washing the floor wrong. Look, shed say.
Youre washing at the wrong temperature, shed add.
You should dress differently, shed remark.
Ellen endured, doing as she had always done, while Margaret complained to Edward, and he scolded her.
Why cant you listen to my mother? She wants to help!
Youre ungrateful!
Their fights became daily. Ellen felt her strength drainwork, home, motherinlaw, husband, all pressing down.
Her own parents suffered too. She could no longer visit as often; Margaret demanded her attention. She had to ask a neighbour to help her parents, paying her for the assistance.
One evening Ellen sat at the kitchen table, tallying expenses. Money would not stretch to the next payday; she needed to buy medicine for her father, pay the neighbour, and set aside council tax.
Margaret entered.
I need new slippers; these are tight. Can you spare some money?
I have none left.
How can that be? Edwards salary is in the bank!
Edwards pay goes to the mortgage and food.
And yours?
My wages cover my parents medication, the bills, household costs.
Your parents! Margaret hissed. You always fund them, never me!
Your pension is small, Ellen replied.
It isnt enough! I need more!
My situation is the same. Im not asking for your money.
Margaret stormed out, then returned minutes later, complaining to Edward, She refused my slippers! How can she be so stingy?
Edwards face flushed with anger.
You really turned my mother down for money?
I have nothing spare!
You have money for your parents, but not for my mothers slippers?
Give it yourself! Margaret snapped.
Youre both shouting now, Ellen whispered, watching the scene from the doorway.
The tension finally snapped inside Ellen. She rose, voice steady.
Thats enough. Im exhausted. I will not be your servant any longer. Im leaving this house.
Edward stared, bewildered.
Where will you go?
To my parents cottage. Ill stay there and look after them. If my help isnt needed here, Ill be elsewhere.
Are you mad? he shouted.
No. Ive made a decision. Live together without me.
He stood frozen.
What about me?
Youll manage. Your mother will cook, wash, and tend to herself.
But I love you! he pleaded.
Ellen halted, met his eyes.
If you truly loved me, you wouldnt put your mothers wishes above my needs, nor ignore my parents. You didnt even remember my fathers birthday next week, never asked if he needed help.
Edward fell silent.
I am tired of being alone in this marriage, tired of carrying everything by myself. I will care for those who value my care.
She packed her suitcase, Edward following, trying to stop her.
Stop! You cant just leave!
I can, and I will.
What about us?
Youll survive. My mother will look after you.
Ellen turned, her voice calm yet firm.
Margaret, youve won. Youve taken my husband. I dont resent you, but I wont live in a cramped flat with a son who values his mother more than his wife.
She walked to the door, paused in the cold, snowy night, hailed a cab, and rode to the railway station. She bought a bus ticket to the village.
The cottage was quiet; her parents slept. She slipped inside, changed into nightclothes, and lay on the old sofa in the hallway.
Morning brought the smell of pancakes. Her mother was at the stove.
Ellen, love! How are you? she beamed.
Im here for good, Ellen replied.
What about Edward?
Hes with my mother. Itll be easier for them.
Her mother embraced her, My dear, how did it come to this?
It just happened, Ellen whispered, tears welling.
They sat over tea, Ellen recounting the battles, the decision to leave.
You did right, her father said. You shouldnt endure such treatment.
But I love him, she murmured.
Love isnt about enduring humiliation. Its about respect. He gave you none.
Ellen nodded, his words settling like rain on dry earth.
She found work in the village library, modest pay but enough. She helped her parents with chores, slowly settling into rural life.
Edward called at first, begging her to return, promising change. She remained sceptical.
A month later he appeared at the gate, eyes hopeful.
May I come in?
Come, she said, letting him step inside.
They sat in the kitchen while her parents tended the garden.
Ive realized my mistake, Edward confessed. My mother was overwhelming. I cant live like that again. Ive sold the flat and bought a threebedroom house so your parents could move in with us if you wish.
Did you really do that? Ellen asked, wary.
Yes. Ive learned that I placed my mother above you. Im sorry.
What about Margaret?
Shes angry, but I told her its either she accepts us both or she stays away. She chose to come over and apologise to your parents.
Ellen felt the old lump of grief loosen.
Will you come back? Edward asked.
She looked at his earnest face, at the calloused hands that had helped her father chop wood, at the sincerity in his eyes.
Ill return, but on one condition: my parents are as important as your mother, my opinion as valuable as yours. Well be equals.
He nodded. Agreed. I promise.
They embraced on the old porch, the wind tugging at their coats. Ellen knew more work lay aheadrebuilding trust, balancing familiesbut she felt hope. Love, she realised, must be mutual, not onesided.
Margaret indeed arrived a week later, apologised to John and Martha, even helped Ellens mother with chores. With time, the family settled into a new threebedroom home in the city, while Ellens parents stayed content in their cottage.
The story lingered in Ellens memory, a reminder that a household thrives only when respect, equality, and love are shared by all.
