My son lives here, so Ill be staying too, Eleanor said as she stepped into our flat.
Lets head to the market on Saturday and pick up some seedlings, Emily suggested, pouring tea for me. We can grab tomatoes and cucumbers for the garden.
I nodded, scrolling through the news on my phone. Sounds good. Lets get an early start, otherwise the queues will be a nightmare.
Deal, Emily said, sitting opposite me. And how about a cinema outing in the evening? Theres a new film Ive been wanting to see.
I looked up from the screen and smiled. Sure thing, love. Its been ages since weve had a night out just the two of us.
Emily let out a satisfied sigh. That was the dream quiet evenings, weekend plans, no rush. After eight years of marriage wed learned to cherish this calm domestic harmony.
My phone rang. I glanced at the screen and frowned. Its Mum, I said. She rarely calls at this hour.
Answer it, Emily prompted.
Hello, Mum, I said, putting the call on speaker. Whats the matter?
James, dear, I have news! Eleanors voice crackled with excitement. Ive sold my flat!
Emily and I exchanged a startled look.
How could you sell it without telling us? I stammered. You never mentioned you were planning to move.
It just happened, she replied hurriedly. Our neighbour, Tamara, mentioned her nephew was looking for a place. He offered a good price, so I agreed. The moneys already transferred; we sign the paperwork tomorrow.
Hold on, Mum, I said, rubbing my nose. Where will you live then?
You have a spare room, dont you? she said as if it were obvious. Ill be there tomorrow with my things.
A chill ran through Emily. She looked at me, but I could only stare back, bewildered.
Mum, can we discuss this calmly? I finally managed. Come over and well talk.
Theres nothing to discuss, Eleanor snapped, a hard edge entering her tone. Im your mother, I have nowhere else to go. Ill be off now, loads to do. See you tomorrow.
The line clicked off.
Is she joking? Emily whispered.
Im not sure, I ran a hand through my hair. Mum can be impulsive. Maybe shell explain everything tomorrow.
But I knew Eleanor well enough to know she never joked about moving in with her son. If she said she was coming, it meant she was coming.
That night I lay awake, picturing the future Eleanor in our kitchen, in the sitting room, constantly offering unsolicited advice. I turned from side to side while James slept peacefully beside me.
Morning found me exhausted. James had already left for work, leaving a note on the kitchen table: Emily, dont worry. Well sort it with Mum this evening. Love you.
I crumpled the note. It was easy for him to say dont worry when his own mother was about to upend our life.
At work I couldnt focus. My colleague, Laura, noticed my gloom.
Whats wrong, Emily? You look down, she asked.
I told her about the call.
Oh dear, Laura sighed. My sister had a similar situation her mother moved in and they split after three months.
Dont scare me, I muttered, feeling my heart race.
Laura placed a hand on my shoulder. Im not trying to frighten you. Maybe your mother is reasonable?
I forced a bitter smile. Reasonable. She thinks shes the only one who can properly make a stew, do the laundry, run the house.
That evening I came home early, hoping for a few quiet hours before Eleanor arrived. I walked through each room, saying a silent goodbye to the life wed built: the bright bedroom, the cosy living room where wed watched countless films, the kitchen where I loved to cook.
The lock clicked. James stepped in, followed by I froze.
My son lives here, so Ill be staying too, Eleanor declared, stepping over the threshold.
Behind her stood a mover with a massive suitcase, and two more bags and several boxes lingered in the hallway.
Good morning, love, she pecked my cheek. James, show me where I can settle in.
James looked at me, guilt written across his face. Mum, can we talk first? Have a cup of tea before you unpack?
Well talk later, she waved him off. Im tired after the long journey. Show me the room, will you?
We only have two rooms, James began. The bedroom and the living room.
The living room will be mine, then, Eleanor said matteroffactly. Is the sofa a pullout?
Yes, love, she turned to the mover. Put everything in the lounge.
I stared, stunned. Our lounge, the place we entertained friends, now her domain.
Mum, can we at least discuss this? I said firmly. You never warned us, never asked.
She turned to me, eyes cold with superiority. Sweetheart, this is my sons flat. Im his mother. I dont need anyones permission.
But Im his wife! I burst out.
Exactly, she pressed. Im the mother, the blood relation.
James stood between us, pale and unsure. I waited for him to defend me, but he stayed silent.
Fine, Eleanor said, handing the mover a few pounds, then closing the door behind him. What time shall we have dinner?
I havent cooked anything, I replied through clenched teeth.
No problem, she said, heading to the kitchen. Ill make something myself. You two must be living on readymeals by now.
Alone in the hallway, I turned to James, tears threatening. Why didnt you stop her? Why let her move in without asking?
Emily, shes my mum, he said helplessly, rubbing his forehead. She really has nowhere to go. She sold her flat.
Did she ask us first? Did she discuss it with us? I asked, voice shaking. Are we just furniture in this house?
Im not sure what she did with the money, he admitted. She said it was an investment in a friends business.
Where did she invest it? I demanded.
I dont know, he muttered, avoiding my eyes.
The kitchen filled with the clatter of pots and Eleanors muttering about missing proper cookware.
I fled to the bedroom, slammed the door, and collapsed onto the bed. For the first time in eight years I wanted to pack my bags and leave. Where could I go? Why should I have to abandon my own home?
An hour later Eleanor called us to dinner. Shed prepared a steaming pot of stew.
Sit down while its hot, she instructed. James, slice the bread.
I ate mechanically; the stew smelled wonderful, but I could barely swallow.
Whats wrong? she asked. Dont you like it?
Im just not hungry, I said.
She chuckled. A working woman should eat well. Maybe youre on a diet? You could stand to lose a few pounds.
I clenched my fists under the table. The showdown had begun.
Emily looks lovely, James murmured, trying to smooth things over.
Shes just being helpful, Eleanor replied, offended. I want my sons wife to look her best.
Its already beautiful, James muttered, his cheeks flushing.
After dinner Eleanor announced, Tomorrow Ill do a deep clean. Its been ages since youve really tidied up.
I gritted my teeth. Our place is already clean, I said.
Seems that way to you, dear, she said condescendingly. Ive always kept a spotless home. Remember, James?
Yes, Mum, he replied wearily.
Later, in the bedroom, I finally let the tears flow. James tried to hug me.
Emily, please dont cry. Itll be temporary, he whispered.
How long? I sobbed. A month? A year? Forever?
I dont know, he admitted. But well figure something out.
You didnt stand up for me when she criticised my weight, I said sharply. You just laughed.
I said youre beautiful! he protested.
Only after she pushed me further, I retorted, pulling away. This is my flat too. I wont have you motherinlaw telling me how to live.
Shes just used to running the household, James tried to explain.
Then let her run her own house! I snapped. Im not being fair she has no other flat, but I cant stay silent. Choose her or me.
Emily, stop being ridiculous, James said, frowning. I love you, but shes my mother. I cant kick her out.
And what am I supposed to do? Put up with her antics?
Shes just worried about us, James replied defensively.
Worried? Shes dictating how I live in my own home! I shouted.
Lets try to get along, James pleaded, taking my hands. Please, for me.
I turned away, unable to sleep until dawn.
Morning found me waking to the whirr of a vacuum. It was half past six on a Saturday our day off. I slipped on a robe and headed to the bedroom, where Eleanor, apron over her dress, was vacuuming the lounge.
Good morning! she sang, drowning out the noise. Got up early, thought Id make the most of it!
Mrs. Thompson, its six thirty on a Saturday, I said, trying to stay calm. Could you start a bit later?
Early bird catches the worm! she chirped. Back in my day
I ignored the lecture, retreated to the bedroom, and found James already awake.
Your mums vacuuming at seven on a Saturday, I muttered.
He winced. Ill talk to her.
We didnt need to speak shed finished cleaning by the time we sat down to breakfast.
Now thats proper hospitality, she declared, placing a stack of golden pancakes on the table. Emily, would you like some tea?
I nodded silently. She beamed, recalling how shed made the same pancakes every Sunday when I was a child.
By the way, she said, turning to me, I need to tidy the bathroom. Towels are all over, cosmetics everywhere. Ill sort it.
Its already fine, I replied coldly.
Oh, dear, she said patronisingly. Ill teach you a thing or two. Youve got so much to learn.
I excused myself, disappearing into the bedroom. I slammed the door and collapsed onto the bed, yearning to pack everything and leave. But where?
An hour later she called us to dinner. The table was laden with her stew.
Sit while its hot, she ordered. James, cut the bread.
James obeyed. I ate in silence; the stew smelled delicious but sat heavy in my throat.
Whats the matter? she asked. Dont you like it?
Just not hungry, I replied.
She sipped her spoonful. A working woman should eat well. Maybe youre on a diet? A little trim wouldnt hurt.
I clenched my jaw. The battle had begun.
Emily looks lovely, James muttered softly, trying to ease the tension.
Shes just being helpful, Eleanor replied, offended. I want my sons wife to look her best.
Its already beautiful, James said, cheeks reddening.
The next day Eleanor announced a fullscale spring clean. I reminded her our flat was already tidy.
You think its clean? she said smugly. My standards are higher.
Later, in the bedroom, I finally let the tears fall. James tried to comfort me.
Emily, please, dont cry. Itll pass, he whispered.
How long? I sobbed. A month? A year? Forever?
I dont know, he admitted. But well sort it out.
She kept insisting on teaching me how to cook, how to clean, how to live. I realised I couldnt stay silent any longer.
The following week Eleanor finally moved into a small onebed flat a short walk from us. I helped her settle, bringing over potted plants and new curtains.
Cozy, she said, admiring the space. Thank you, Emily.
Youre always welcome to visit, I replied. Just give us a headsup first.
She promised to call before dropping by. True to her word, she came a couple of times a week, sometimes bringing a cake, sometimes just tea and gossip.
Gradually the tension eased. She stopped criticizing everything, and I stopped feeling like an intruder in my own home.
One afternoon, while we were baking a Victoria sponge together, she said, You know, Emily, Im glad we got through this. I used to think my son owed me everything, that I should run the house. Now I see his wife is the one who runs his life.
You both matter to James, I replied. Just in different ways.
She gave me a hug. Thank you for taking me in and forgiving me.
Were family, I smiled.
That evening, James and I curled up on the sofa, just the two of us again. I rested my head on his shoulder.
Didnt think Id survive having your mum live with us, I said.
Why not? he asked, surprised.
Because we learned to talk, not to shut down, I answered simply. We faced the problem together, and it made us stronger.
He kissed the top of my head. Youre brilliant, love. I love you.
I love you too, I replied, feeling the warmth of the lamp casting a gentle glow over the room. The spring dusk outside deepened, the house felt calm, and life, with all its troubles, seemed manageable now that wed turned an adversary into an ally.
