“Ive got nowhere to go!”
“Im not going back to that useless bloke! Id rather live in a basement than with him!”
“Mum, then go to the basement! Ill be divorcing you soon at this rate!” snapped Emily, stirring her porridge.
“Kicking your own mother out?!” Lydia clutched her chest. “Ive given you everything, and this is the thanks I get? Cheers, love, for your kindness!”
With a huff, her mother stormed off to their shared bedroombecause the four of them were crammed into a one-bed flat, and privacy had been impossible for the last three months.
Emily never imagined shed be part of such a mess. People around her divorced and remarried, but her parents had always been the picture of stability. Only recently, Lydia and George had celebrated their ruby wedding anniversaryforty years togetherand now her mother refused to even look at him.
Then, one “lovely” day, her mum turned up on her doorstep with suitcases, announcing she was leaving him.
“You wont believe it! Hes been cheating with some flirty nurse!” Lydia gasped, still catching her breath from climbing the stairs. “Fancy chasing after women at his age! What a hero!”
“Mum, seriously? Are you sure? Maybe youve got the wrong end of the stick?” Emily stared at her.
Lydia had always been dramatic, spinning half-truths into grand tales. But this time, it wasnt just her imagination.
“Oh, Ive got it all wrong, have I? The photos on his phone dont lie! Hes an old fool who shouldve known better!”
Emily decided to deal with it later. First, she had to calm her mother down. She sat her with a cup of tea and tried to reassure herthat even if it was true, life wasnt over, that it happened to plenty of people, that shed help her through it.
Little did she know her mum would take that literally. Emily had no idea what she was signing up for.
From that moment, Lydia moved in. It wouldnt have been so bad if Emily didnt already have her own familyher husband, James, and their five-year-old son, Oliver. The age where curiosity ran wild and boundaries were tested.
At first, Emily tried to be understanding, even looking for silver liningsbut there werent any. Help with Oliver? She worked remotely and managed fine. Cooking? Lydias meals were too greasy for Emilys diet and James health. Cleaning? Their standards of “spotless” were worlds apart.
And that was just the start.
“Right, time to change the bedsheets. Olivers tooyou can do his in the morning,” Lydia announced at eleven at night, just as they settled in for a film.
“Now? Mum, Olivers asleep! How are we supposed to do it in the dark?”
“Dont be daft. The hallway lights enough. Do it quietly, then go to bed. You shouldve done it earlieryoud be lost without me! Dust mitesll be marching in next!”
Hands on hips, Lydia scanned the room for more chores to assign.
Emily sighed but obeyed. She knew her mums quirksarguing meant hours of lectures. Lydia never backed down and thrived on conflict, while Emily had grown up bending to keep the peace.
James didnt share her patience.
“Love, cant you just say no?” he muttered when they were alone.
“Well its Mum. You know how she is.”
“I do. But this is *our* home, *our* rules. Im getting tired of this.”
“Just hang on a bit longer. She and Dad need time. Itll sort itself out.”
But Emily didnt sound convinced. Shed already spoken to her father. Hed admitted ityes, thered been a fling.
“I dont know what came over me Maybe I just wanted to see what I was missing. Your mothers the only one Ive ever been with. Now I dont know where to put myself. I love her, but she wont even listen”
Honestly, Emily understood her mum. She wouldnt have forgiven an affair either, no matter how brief. Lydia had every right to leave him. But she wasnt *doing* anythingjust waiting, as if itd fix itself.
Things only got worse. Lydia soon decided James was getting too comfortable.
In her parents house, chores were split evenly. George vacuumed, scrubbed the bathroom weekly, did dishes, even cooked occasionally. He helped with deep cleaning, polished windows, went to the markettasks many saw as “womens work.”
In Emilys home, it was different. James helped Oliver with handwriting or took him swimming, but everything else fell to her. It made sensehe was the main breadwinner, now supporting her mum too. Emily worked part-time remotely, her earnings covering little more than extras.
But Lydia didnt see it that way.
“Youve let him off too easy!” she nagged. “Make him pitch in evenings instead of lounging about. Men get ideas if theyre idle!”
“Mum, thanks, but well handle it.”
Lydia wasnt listening. She launched a full-scale campaign to “reform” James.
“Sit down,” shed order when Emily cleared the table. “James, shes been run ragged todaytoo proud to ask for help. Be a dear and wash up.”
James would glare but oblige. His patience, though, wasnt endless. Arguments eruptedrants muttered privately, careful not to boil over while Lydia was near.
And he wasnt wrong. Emily knew it. But what could she do?
“Mum, you cant live like this forever. Whats the plan?” she asked after two months.
“Dunno. Ill figure it out. Ive got nowhere to go,” Lydia said tightly, sensing where this was headed.
“Of course you do! Yours and Dads flats half yours. Sort it out, move on. You cant just stall.”
“I want *nothing* from him!” Lydia snapped, arms crossed. “Ill manage. Wont speak to him.”
“Managing” meant Emily and James bore the brunt. They were exhausted. Emily hinted they missed their evenings alone, that the flat was too smallbut Lydia ignored her. Then she said it outright. Lydia didnt take it well.
Finally, Emily snapped. She found Lydia a room, packed her bags while she showered.
“Whats this? Are you going somewhere?” Lydia asked, towel-drying her hair.
“No, *you* are. Weve rented you a place. Best we could afford. Happy couples are for tellyreal people need space.”
Lydia ranted, screamed about being thrown out, but Emily and James stood firm. They sat her down, explained theyd help with rent for two monthsthey couldnt keep this up.
“Dyou want *us* splitting this flat next? Wheres everyone supposed to go?” James asked.
Lydia gave in. But the peace didnt last.
“What *is* this place?!” she shrieked over the phone after one night. “Roaches everywhere, neighbours couldnt care less! The kitchens filthylooks like it hasnt been scrubbed in a decade! Dont get me started on the loo!”
“Mum, we did what we could. Youre free to find somewhere else.”
But the places Lydia liked were out of her budget. Slowly, her tune changed. She started mentioning solicitors, gathering documents. Then one day
“Right. Im home. Moved back,” she announced, as if it were Emilys fault.
“Really? What about Dad?”
“Still cant stand him,” Lydia sniffed. “But Id rather my own room than *that* hovel. Somebody nicked my purse while I was at the shops! Ill tolerate your fathers face. At least my rooms just mineno extra lodgers with whiskers and paws.”
Emily breathed easy. Whether her parents reconciled or divorced didnt matter. Let them battle it out in *their* home, not hers. For the first time in months, her flat felt like her own again.
