Mum will stay with us; your parents can remain in the village, Oliver said, his voice flat.
You spent £40,000 on what? A kitchen unit?!
Oliver hurled the receipt onto the table so hard the plates jumped. Laura flinched, then forced herself to stay composed.
On the unit. The old one finally fell apart. The door fell off, the worktop is stained all over.
£40,000! We agreed any big purchase would be discussed first!
Oliver, we did discuss it! I told you a month ago! You said, see for yourself.
I never said you could spend that much!
And how much do you think a decent set should cost? Ten grand? That was the cheapest you could find!
Oliver paced the kitchen, his fingers twisted in his hair.
Every penny counts now! We were saving for a car!
We were saving. Well still save. But I need a place to cook now, not when we finally buy a car.
You could have waited!
Wait? Spend the next six months cooking on two burners because the rest dont work?
Oliver turned to her, eyes cold.
You know what? If you could actually save, wed have both a car and a bigger flat by now!
Laura felt a lump rise in her throat.
I cant save? I count every pound to make it to payday. I buy the cheapest groceries and wear the same coat for three years.
See? Youre the victim again!
Im not a victim! Im just stating facts!
They stood opposite each other, breathing hard. Tears threatened, but Laura swallowed them down. No crying. No showing weakness.
Olivers phone rang. He glanced at the screen.
Mum, he muttered and slipped out into the hallway.
Laura was left in the kitchen. She sank onto the table, her head in her hands. What had happened to them? Theyd never fought over money before. Theyd never argued so often.
She recalled how they met. Laura was a receptionist at a dental practice; Oliver came in for a filling. They chatted in the waiting room, he invited her for tea, six months later he proposed.
Laura was twentysix, Oliver twentyeight. Both worked, sharing a modest flat. Then they took out a mortgage and bought a onebedroom terraced house on the outskirts of Manchester. Small, but theirs.
Life was ordinarynot rich, not destitute. Arguments were rare and trivial. Laura thought everything was fine.
Then something cracked. Oliver grew irritable, nitpicking. Money and savings entered every conversation, even though he earned well as a senior manager at a telecom firm.
Laura also worked, but earned less. She tried to help at home, cooking, cutting costs wherever she could.
But nothing was ever good enough for Oliver. The food was wrong, the cleaning was wrong, the spending was wrong.
Oliver returned to the kitchen, his face serious.
Laura, we need to talk.
Im listening.
My mother called. Her health is failingblood pressure spikes, the hearts out of rhythm. She cant live alone.
And?
Ive decided shell move in with us until she gets better.
Laura stared at him.
Oliver, we only have a onebedroom. Where will she stay?
On the sofa in the living room. Well shift the kitchen, set up a foldout.
Youre serious?
Absolutely. Shes my mum; I cant leave her on her own.
Im not saying we cant. But maybe a carer? Or
A carer costs money. Money we dont have, thanks to your splurges.
Laura clenched her fists under the table.
Fine. What about my parents? Theyre aged seventy, my dad cant manage the house, my mum struggles after a stroke.
Your parents live in the village. They have their own cottage and garden. Theyre fine there.
Theyre not! I drive up every week to chop wood, fetch water, tidy up!
Keep doing that. But my mum will be here.
Why does your mum get a place in the city while my parents have to suffer in the village?
Olivers gaze turned icy.
Because my mum is alone. Your parents are a pair; its easier for them. And in the city she has access to doctors. In the village, your folks are used to it.
Used to it?! Oliver, do you hear yourself?!
I hear. Mum will stay with us, your parents can stay in the village. Thats my decision.
Laura stood abruptly.
You decided. Not us. Not after a discussion. You just decided.
Im the head of the household.
Head of the household! she laughed bitterly. The head who spends on fishing gear and a new rod, but cant afford a proper 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, its a different story!
Your parents live comfortably!
No! Theyre struggling! And you never even offer to help! You never go with me! You never ask if they need anything!
Oliver snatched the car keys.
Im fed up with this talk. Mum arrives Saturday. Prepare a room.
What if I refuse?
He stopped at the door.
This is my flat. I pay the mortgage. My mother will live here, whether you like it or not.
He left. Laura collapsed onto the kitchen floor, sobbing silently. This was her flat. Her decision. Her mother.
And who was she? A servant? A shadow forced to agree with every demand?
She wiped her tears, rose, dialed her parents.
Hello, love! her mothers voice crackled, weak but cheerful.
Mum, how are you?
Oh, you know, taking it easy. Dads been chopping firewood, were keeping the stove going. Its a cold winter.
Mum, could you move to the city? Ill find a flat
Oh, Laura! Why would we go to the city? Weve lived here all our lives. And where would you get the money for a rented place?
Ill manage.
No need. Well manage. You already do so much. Just dont wear yourself out.
Laura swallowed her grief.
Mum, Ill be home Sunday. Ill bring food.
Come on, love. Well be glad to see you.
She hung up. Her parents never complained; they always said theyd cope. Yet Laura saw the strain: an old house heated by a coal stove, water drawn from a communal tap, firewood stacked outside. Her dad, seventythree, barely walked after a heart operation. Her mum, after a stroke, struggled with her left hand. Still, they pressed on, refusing to be a burden.
And the motherinlaw? Valerie Stevens lived in a twobedroom flat in the city, a touch younger than Lauras parentsshe was sixtyfive. Health wasnt perfect, but she managed on her modest pension.
Oliver was the only son, the mams boy. Valerie called him ten times a day, offering advice on everything from clothing to travel. Oliver obeyed without question.
At first Laura endured. Then she began to object, but Oliver always sided with his mum, claiming she only wanted his best.
Now the motherinlaw was moving into their cramped flat, and Laura would have to look after her, cook, cleanall while her own parents stayed shivering in the village.
Oliver returned late that night, heading straight to the bedroom without a word. Laura lay on the sofa, pretending to sleep.
In the morning he left for work early, leaving a note on the kitchen table: Prepare a room for Mum on Saturday. Clean the floors, change the linen.
Laura crumpled the note and tossed it in the bin.
Friday night she drove to the village, delivering groceries, medicine, helping her dad stack firewood and tidying the house. They sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea. Her mother looked at her intently.
You look pale. Everything alright?
All good, Mum.
Dont lie. I can see when youre upset.
Laura sighed.
Valeries moving in with us. Oliver decided it.
Well, thats that, her dad shrugged. An old woman, let her stay.
Dad, we have a onebedroom. Shell take the room. Oliver and I will sleep on the kitchen couch.
Wait a minute. Shell be here only a short while, right?
I dont know. Oliver said until shes better. And when that is, who knows.
Her mother sighed.
I understand, love. Its hard, having your motherinlaw under the same roof. But a son must look after his mother.
And a daughter? Dont we have to look after our parents? Laura blurted.
Her parents exchanged a glance.
What are you talking about? her dad asked.
I suggested we bring you to the city, get a bigger flat, help you more. He refused, saying the village was better for you.
Its better here, her mother said, patting Lauras hand. Were used to it. The city would be cramped for us.
Mum, youre struggling! Dad can barely walk, you cant use your left hand!
We manage. The most important thing is youre healthy. And Oliver. Dont worry about us.
Laura clung to her mother, tears spilling.
Im so tired. Tired of his attitude. Tired of being second. Tired that his mother matters more than my parents.
Quiet now, love. Itll sort itself out. Shell stay a while, then go back.
Laura didnt believe it.
Saturday morning Valerie arrived with three massive suitcases.
Laura, help me with these! she shouted from the doorway.
Laura silently helped carry the bags. Valerie surveyed the flat.
Youre living so cramped! You need a bigger place!
We cant afford it yet, Laura replied curtly.
Earn more! Oliver, ask for that bonus at work!
Mum, thats not how it works, Oliver said, trying to help.
In our day we worked for conscience, not just a paycheck! We earned well!
Laura retreated to the kitchen, beginning to prepare lunch. From the other room she heard Valerie boss Oliver aroundput that there, hang that.
Valerie later appeared at the stove.
What are you cooking?
Borscht and meatballs.
Oliver cant have anything greasy! His livers weak!
Chicken meatballs, steamed.
Still no good. Better fish. I brought a pike, Ill show you how to cook it.
I can cook fish.
You can, but not like this. Watch
She pushed Laura away from the stove, taking over. Laura stood by, teeth clenched.
The lunch was tense. Valerie chattered nonstop about health, neighbours, shop prices. Oliver nodded, Laura stayed silent.
After the meal Valerie retired to the living room. Laura washed dishes. Oliver approached from behind.
Thanks for taking my mum in.
Did I have a choice?
Laura, dont start
Im not starting. Im stating facts. You decide, I comply.
You could have been kinder.
I am kind.
Youre cold. She feels it.
Laura turned.
Oliver, your mother has taken our bedroom, kicked me from the stove, criticised my cooking, and Im supposed to be polite?
Shes ill!
Shes used to ordering! And you let her?
Enough! Oliver raised his voice. Shes my mother! I wont let you insult her!
Im not insulting! Im telling the truth!
Valeries voice drifted from the hallway.
Oliver, whats happening? Are you two fighting?
No, Mum, everythings fine! Oliver called back, retreating.
Laura stayed in the kitchen, wiping tears, finishing the dishes.
A week passed. Valerie settled in, occupying half the wardrobe, scattering her belongings throughout the flat. Laura and Oliver slept on a foldout couch in the kitchen, backs aching from the cramped position.
Valerie rose early, rattling dishes, preparing a heavy breakfast that Laura wouldnt eattoo rich, too caloric. Then she turned the TV up to full volume, before dispensing unsolicited advice.
Laura, youre washing the floor wrong. Look, you should do it like this.
Laura, youre washing clothes wrong. Use a hotter cycle.
Laura, you dress wrong. That doesnt suit you.
Laura endured, doing as she always had. Valerie complained to Oliver; Oliver scolded Laura.
Why cant you listen to Mum? She wants to help!
I dont need her help!
Youre rude and ungrateful!
Arguments became daily. Laura felt herself drainedwork, house, motherinlaw, husband, everything suffocating.
Then her own parents. She couldnt visit as often; Valerie demanded attention. She had to ask a neighbour to help her parents, paying her for the chores.
One evening Laura sat at the kitchen table, calculating expenses. Money wouldnt stretch to the next payday. She needed to buy her dads medication, pay the neighbour, and set aside the council tax.
Valerie entered.
Laura, I need new slippers. These are too tight. Can you give me some money?
I have nothing spare.
How can that be? Oliver got paid!
Olivers salary goes to the mortgage and food.
And yours?
Mine goes to my parents medicines, the bills, everyday costs.
Your parents! Valerie snapped. You always fund them! Yet theres nothing for me!
I have a pension, Valerie.
Its tiny! I need more!
Im in the same boat. Im not asking you for money.
Valerie stormed out. A minute later she complained to Oliver.
She turned me down! I asked for money for slippers, and she refused!
Oliver entered, face flushed.
You really turned my mother down for money?
Laura, I have no spare cash!
But you have money for your own parents!
My parents are ill! They need medicine!
My mother is ill too! She needs slippers! Give her something!
You give it yourself! Shes your mother!
I dont have any!
I dont either!
They shouted, Valerie watching from the doorway, satisfied.
Laura stepped back, seeing the whole scene. Her motherinlaw manipulating her son, her husband blind to it, herself trapped in a corner.
Enough, she whispered. Thats it.
Whats enough? Oliver asked, confused.
Everything. Im tired of your treatment. Tired of being a servant. Tired that my parents mean nothing to you.
Laura, stop this melodrama!
Its not a melodrama. Its a decision. Im leaving.
Oliver froze.
Where?
Back to my parents. Ill live with them, care for them. If you dont need my help here, Im gone.
Youve lost it!
No. Ive simply made a choice. Live together without me; itll be easier for you.
Laura walked to the bedroom, began packing. Oliver followed.
Laura, stop! You cant just walk out!
I can, and Im doing it.
What about me?
Youll manage. You have your mum; shell cook, wash, iron.
But I love you!
Laura halted, looking him in the eyes.
If you loved me, you wouldnt let your mother push me aside. You wouldnt put her wishes above my needs. You didnt even remember my dads birthday next week. You never asked if we should visit together.
Oliver was silent.
Im tired of being alone in this marriage, Laura continued. Im tired of carrying everything. I want to care for those who value my care.
She closed her suitcase, grabbed her bag.
Laura, wait! Lets talk!
Its too late. It should have been earlier.
She left the flat. Valerie stood in the hallway.
Youre leaving? Fine. Oliver will be better off without you.
Laura paused.
Youve won, Valerie. Youve taken my husband. But I dont envy you. Living in a cramped flat with a motherson duo isnt happiness.
She walked out, shutting the door.
Outside it was cold, snow falling. She hailed a cab, rode to the train station, bought a bus ticket to the village.
She arrived late, the house silent. Her parents were asleep. She slipped inside, stripped off her coat, collapsed onto the old sofa in the lounge.
Morning greeted her with the smell of pancakes. Her mother was at the stove, beaming.
Laura! How are you?
Im here. Stay forever.
Forever? And Oliver?
Hes staying with his mum. Theyll manage.
Her mother hugged her tightly.
My dear, how did it come to this?
It happened, Mum. It just happened.
They sat, drinking tea, Laura recounting the nightmare with her motherinlaw, the fights, her decision to leave.
You did right, her father said. You cant endure that.
But I love him, Laura whispered.
Love isnt putting up with abuse. Love is respect. He didnt give you that.
Laura nodded. She took a job at the village library. The pay was modest, but it was enough. She helped her parents around the garden, fetched water, tended the firewood.
Oliver called at first, pleadingMonths later, as the first snow drifted down, Laura watched Oliver step onto the doorstep, humbled and ready to rebuild their lives together.
