Hey love, so heres the whole thing thats been going on, told just like Id be chatting with you over a cuppa.
My mum can stay with us. Yours should go up to the cottage, Mark decided flatout.
Listen, would you fancy going to the theatre on Saturday? Emily asked, stirring the soup on the stove. Theyve got a new play, Liza was raving about it.
Mark paused his telly, glanced at his wife and said:
The theatre? Im not sure Im in the mood. Its been a brutal week.
Emily sighed. We havent been out together in six months.
Fine, well see, Mark muttered, eyes glued back to the screen.
Emily pursed her lips. It was always the same well see, later, maybe. Fifteen years of marriage had taught her to expect those dodges, but getting used to them didnt mean shed just accept them.
Mark, she called, turning off the stove, we really need to talk.
What about? he asked without looking away from the football match.
My mum called today. Her cottage roofs leaking after the rain, she needs it fixed. I was thinking she could stay with us for a couple of weeks while the builders finish up.
Mark frowned. My mum rang too. Shes got a renovation starting and wants to move in as well.
Emily sat down at the table. Then let both of them stay. Weve got enough space.
No, Mark shook his head. Two mums under one roof is too much. Theyll end up stepping on each others toes.
They wont, Emily protested. They get along fine.
Mark got up, walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, drank it, then turned back to Emily.
My mum will live here. Yours, off to the cottage, he said, voice firm.
Emily felt the air go cold inside her.
What? So my mum stays in a leaky cottage and yours gets a warm flat?
Exactly, Mark shrugged. My mums almost sixtyfive, its hard for her to be on a building site. Your mums younger, shell manage.
My mums sixtytwo! Emily snapped. Whats three years difference?
There is a difference, Mark insisted. Besides, my mums ill, she needs peace.
Emily stood up. And mine? Her blood pressure spikes, her back aches!
Everyones got aches, Mark waved it off. Bottom line Ive decided. My mum arrives the day after tomorrow, yours can stay at the cottage.
He turned back to the telly. Emily stood in the kitchen, stunned at how he could just decide, no discussion, no consent.
She walked into the living room.
Mark, we havent finished talking.
Nothing more to say, he flicked channels. Its settled.
It isnt! This is my flat as well! I live here, I have a say!
The flats in my name, Mark said coldly. I decide.
Emily froze. So because it was in his name, he was the boss and her opinion didnt matter.
Great, she hissed through clenched teeth. Just great.
She slipped to the bedroom, shut the door, sank onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. Anger and hurt roiled inside her she wanted to scream, to cry, to smash dishes, but she just sat there, silent.
That night they didnt speak. Emily set the table in silence, Mark ate in silence, then went back to the telly. When they finally went to bed, each turned to their own wall.
The next morning Mark left for work without a goodbye. Emily called her mum:
Mum, Im sorry but you cant come over. Mark his mum also needs a place, there isnt enough room.
Thats alright, love, her mum, Dorothy Ellis, replied calmly. Ill just stay at the cottage, Ill manage.
But the roofs leaking! Emilys voice trembled.
Fine, Ill stretch some plastic, put buckets out. Ill get by, dont worry.
Emily hung up and broke down. Her mum would be sitting under a dripping roof, while Marks mother would be snug in a warm flat. And Mark didnt seem to care his mum was the priority.
An hour later Mark called:
Mums arriving this evening. Get the guest room ready.
Okay, Emily said shortly and hung up.
She tidied the room, laid fresh linen, placed a few flowers all mechanically, without thinking.
That evening Marks mother, Susan Harper, a stout woman with a perpetually annoyed expression, arrived.
Hello, Em, she smacked Emily on the cheek. What a journey! The driver was a right wanker.
Good evening, Susan, Emily helped her off the coat. The rooms ready.
My son! Susan swooped around Mark, hugging him tightly. Ive missed you so much!
Mark smiled, hugged his mum, asked about the trip. Emily watched the scene and felt everything tighten inside her.
During dinner Susan bragged about the repair costs:
Can you believe the builders want a hundred pounds for everything? Its a robbery!
Those are normal rates now, Mark remarked.
Normal? In my day you could buy a flat for that! Susan sniffed. Now they charge you an arm and a leg for anything.
Emily ate her stew in silence while Susan went on about the government, the neighbours, the weather.
Why are you so quiet, Em? Susan asked suddenly. You look glum.
Just tired, Emily replied.
Tired? You sit at home all day and youre tired? When I was your age I held three jobs and never complained! Susan retorted.
Emily kept quiet. Arguing with Susan was pointless shed always win the debate.
After dinner Susan retreated to her room, and Emily washed the dishes. Mark came over:
Whats with you, you look angry?
Im not angry, Emily said without turning. Im upset.
Why?
Because you never even asked my opinion, she finally looked at him. You just decided, thats it. My mum will be soaked in rain, yours will be warm here.
Dont exaggerate, Mark grunted. Your mum will manage.
What if it was the other way round? If I said my mum would come and yours stayed on the repair?
Thats different, Mark muttered.
How so?
My mum is older and sicker.
Three years older! Emily snapped. Its not a difference!
Mark waved his hand and walked away. Emily stayed in the kitchen, stunned, wondering if she should just pack up and go back to her mums cottage, leaving Mark with his beloved mum.
She thought about it for a while, then dismissed the idea this was her home too.
The next morning Susan got up early and started bossing around the kitchen. Emily woke to the clatter of pots.
Morning, Susan said, rummaging through the cupboards. Em, wheres the sieve? I want to make porridge.
In the righthand cupboard, top shelf, Emily replied.
Susan dug through the cupboard, pulling out dish after dish.
Good heavens, what a mess! How do you even find anything?
I manage, Emily said evenly.
We need to rearrange everything, Susan declared. Ill sort it all today.
No need, Emily said, taking Susans hand. Im happy as it is.
Happy? Living in chaos? No wonder Marks always grouchy! Susan snapped.
Emily clenched her fists. She could say something shed later regret, but she took a deep breath.
This is my kitchen. Ive been cooking here for fifteen years, and I like things where they are, she said calmly.
Fine, fine, dont get worked up, Susan waved her off. I just want whats best!
Emily went to the bathroom, stared at herself in the mirror tired eyes, dark circles, a strained expression. She was exhausted, plain and simple.
Mark left for work, leaving Emily with Susan. The whole morning Susan stalked the flat, commenting on everything:
The curtains are outdated, we need new ones. The sofas sagging, the wallpaper in the hallway is peeling why havent you reglued it? The carpets dusty when was the last time you vacuumed?
Emily listened in silence, thinking how her own mum never interfered, never criticised, always polite when she visited.
By lunchtime Susan announced shed make her signature beef stew Mark loves it! She took over the whole kitchen, pots and pans everywhere. Emily tried to help:
Want me to chop something?
No, Ill do it myself, Susan snapped. You never cut it right!
Emily stepped onto the balcony, called her mum.
Mum, how are you?
Fine, love, Dorothy said brightly. Ive got the buckets out, the plastic on the roof. The rains stopped, at least for now.
Mum, Emily felt tears well up, could you maybe come stay with us? We could sort a room
No, dear, you sound strained enough already. Ill manage here, dont worry.
Emily hung up, sobbing. Her mum would be under a leaky roof, while Susan settled into a warm flat. Was it fair?
An hour later Mark called:
Mums arriving tonight. Get the spare room ready.
Sure, Emily said briefly, then turned off the line.
She freshened the room, laid clean sheets, put out a vase. It felt mechanical, like she was just going through the motions.
That evening Susan, now fully settled, greeted Mark with a delighted shout:
Son! Ive made your favourite stew!
At dinner Mark raved about the stew:
Mmm, this is brilliant! I havent tasted anything like this in ages!
Emily ate quietly. Was her own stew not good enough? Shed been making it every week for fifteen years, and Mark never complained. Now her motherinlaws stew was the star.
What, is my cooking bad? Emily finally blurted.
No, its fine, Mark said, clueless. Your mums stew just has that special something from when I was a kid.
Emily set her fork down. Fine, Ive had enough. She got up, went to the bedroom, lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Life felt like a loop cook, clean, please everyone, and still feel invisible.
A week later Susan had fully made the flat her own rearranged the kitchen, hung her towels in the bathroom, claimed a shelf in the fridge. She rose early, clanged pots, made breakfast for her son, and nitpicked every little thing.
Em, why is Marks shirt wrinkled? Cant you use an iron?
Em, theres hair on the bathroom floor! When did you last clean?
Em, youve put too much salt in the soup!
Emily kept quiet, gritted her teeth, and endured.
Then her own mum called, sounding weak:
Love, Ive got a fever, I think I caught a chill.
What temperature? Emily asked, alarmed.
Just a low thirtyeight, dont worry, Dorothy muttered.
Emily hung up, went to Mark, who was glued to his computer.
Mark, my mums ill. She cant stay out in the rain, we need to bring her in.
What? I already have a mum here.
Then let your mum move out! Emily snapped. My mums hurting!
My mum isnt going anywhere, Mark said coldly. She still has work to finish on the house.
Can my mum get sick at the cottage? Emilys voice rose. Do you understand what youre saying?
I get it, Mark finally looked up. Your mums exaggerating, as usual. Thirtyeight isnt even a fever.
Shes sixtytwo! Her blood pressures high, her hearts weak! She cant be out in the cold!
Dont shout at me, Mark stood, I said no. End of story.
Emily stared at him and realised she barely knew the man shed spent fifteen years with. He felt like a stranger.
Fine, she said quietly. Ill go back to my mums cottage and stay until she gets better.
Go, Mark replied indifferently. Just leave dinner for us.
She packed a bag, prepared three days worth of food, wrote a list of where everything was in the kitchen. Susan watched her pack.
Going away for long?
I dont know, Emily said. My mums ill, she needs me.
Wholl look after Mark? Susan asked, offended.
You, Emily replied, your mum.
Emily left for the cottage. Her mum was feverish, coughing, complaining of weakness. Emily lit the woodburner, made broth, gave her tea with honey.
Why did you come? her mum asked weakly. Marks still there.
Because you need me, Emily replied, pulling the blanket tighter.
Three days passed, Emily cared for her mum, cooked, cleaned, kept track of meds. Mark called once, asked when shed be back, then never bothered again.
When her mums fever broke, Emily decided to return. She walked into the flat and saw the kitchen a disaster piles of dirty dishes, pots still full of water, Susan lounging on the sofa watching telly.
Oh, youre back, Susan grumbled. We were starving.
Wheres Mark? Emily asked.
Hes at work, of course. Im alone here, no one to cook or clean.
Emily went to the sink, started washing. Anger boiled inside her while she was looking after her sick mum, these two had just been waiting for the housemaid to return.
That evening Mark came home.
Finally! My mum was a wreck without you.
Hello to you too, Emily said coldly. My mums fine now, thanks for asking.
Whats for dinner? he asked.
Emily looked at him steadily:
Nothing. I didnt cook.
How could you not cook? Youve been home all day!
I was only home for half an hour, then I cleaned up after you lot.
Mark stammered, What? Emily, whats going on?
Im exhausted, she said simply. Tired of being the servant. Cook yourself or ask my mum the one who matters more.
She walked to the bedroom, closed the door, and didnt answer his knocks.
The next morning she got dressed and announced:
Im moving back to my mums. For good. Ill stay there until I decide what to do next.
Youve gone mad! Mark shouted, looking like a man whod lost his mind. Why all this drama?
Because you chose your mum over me, Emily replied calmly. Your mum gets the comfy flat, my mum gets the leaky cottage. Im done being the housewife you need.
Emily, thats nonsense! Mark protested.
Its not nonsense, she said, grabbing her bag. Im fed up. If you want to live with your mum, fine. Im leaving.
Susan burst out of her room:
Em, where are you off to? Whats happened?
Nothing, Emily said, pulling on her coat. Just realised Im not valued here, so Im going.
She stepped out of the flat, closed the lift doors behind her, and felt a strange relief. For the first time in ages she was doing exactly what she wanted, not what was expected.
Her mum met her at the gate, surprised.
Love, whats happened?
Emily told her everything. Her mum listened, shook her head, sighed.
Maybe Im being harsh? she asked gently. Its your husband, after all.
Mom, Ive spent fifteen years living for him cooking, cleaning, endless compromises. When I had to choose between his comfort and my own mothers health, he chose his mum. Im not important to him, and neither is my mum. Only his mum matters.
Her mum sighed:
Maybe youre right. Stay here, rest, think it through.
A week later Mark called every day, begging her to come back. She ignored the phone. He eventually drove up to her cottage.
Emily, stop this nonsense! Come home! he shouted at the gate.
Emily stepped out:
Mark, I wont return until you understand something simple.
Whats that?
That there are no important or unimportant people in a family. You cant put one mother above another. Im not a servant; Im a person with feelings and dignity.
Mark was silent, then quietly asked:
You really wont come back?
No, not until you apologise to me and to my mum, and until your mum moves out of our flat.
My mum still has the renovation!
Then she can rent a place, or stay in the flat while its being fixed.Mark finally relented, called his mother to arrange a new flat for her, and promised Emily that they would both move out, granting her the peace and respect she had long deserved.
