My mother-in-law thought I would keep supporting her out of fear after the divorce, but she had no idea I had other plans entirely.
Mary stared at the elderly woman standing on her doorstep, suitcase in hand, and could hardly believe her eyes. Margaret Whitmore, her former mother-in-law, stood there with an air of casual familiarity, as if visiting an old friend.
“Mary, dear,” she began in a drawn-out tone, “Ive nowhere else to go. David moved that whats her name Sophie into his place. And I dont want to be a burden on young love, do you see? Theyre building their future, and whats an old woman like me to do? Could you let me stay for a little while?”
Mary stepped aside without a word, allowing her in. What else could she say? Turn a sixty-year-old woman out onto the street? Yes, the divorce had been painful. Yes, David had turned out to be the sort of man who, after twelve years of marriage, suddenly “found himself” in the arms of a twenty-five-year-old colleague. But his mother had nothing to do with any of it.
“Margaret,” Mary said quietly, closing the door, “I dont understand. You have your own flat. Why do you need to stay here?”
“Oh, Mary,” sighed the older woman, settling onto the sofa and loosening her shoelaces, “you know how cramped my place is. This is so much more spacious, so much airier. David mentioned you were living alone in a two-bedroom now. Surely its no trouble?”
Mary clenched her fists. Of course, David had said that. How convenientmoving his new love into his home while palming his mother off on his ex-wife. And no one cared how she felt.
“Its only temporary,” Margaret repeated, already unbuttoning her coat. “Just until I sort things out.”
For the first week, Mary tried to be understanding. She made breakfast for two, bought the medicines Margaret “urgently needed,” and quietly tidied up after her. Her mother-in-law was not the tidiest guestdirty dishes piled in the sink, clothes scattered about, the telly blaring late into the night.
“Mary, darling,” she said one morning, “my pension is so small. Could you spare a little something for groceries? And my blood pressure tablets. Im quite strapped.”
Silently, Mary opened her purse and handed over fifty pounds. Then another thirty for a “new heart supplement.” Then twenty for “something sweet with tea.”
“Margaret,” Mary ventured cautiously after a month, when yet another request left her purse nearly empty, “perhaps we should live within our means? Im not exactly rolling in money either.”
The older woman turned sharply, a familiar glint flashing in her eyes. Mary knew that lookthe prelude to a grand scene.
“What did you just say?” Margarets voice rose an octave. “Live within our means? How dare you! I welcomed you into this family as my own! Twelve years I treated you like a daughter! And now you begrudge me a few pounds for medicine?”
“Im not begrudging you, I only”
“What would you know about hardship, childless as you are!” Margaret shrieked, waving her hands. “I raised my son alone after his father passed! Worked three jobs! And now you scold me for needing heart tablets? Ill tell the neighbours what youre really like! Ungrateful!”
Mary endured the outburst in silence. And the next one. And the one after that, sparked by an “unsuitable” supper. Margaret was a master of theatricsshe could shout for hours, draw the neighbours attention, accuse Mary of every sin under the sun.
After yet another performance, Mary dialled Davids number.
“David, please come and get your mother.”
“Mary, come now. Im trying to build a life here. Mums still upset about the divorce. Youve got the spacewhats the harm?”
“The harm is my money, my nerves, and my peace.”
“Dont be dramatic. Shes elderlyshe needs support. If you can help, then help.”
The dial tone hummed in her ear. Hed hung up.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Mary realised shed had enough. Margaret acted as if she owned the place, threw tantrums over nothing, demanded money constantly, and never once doubted her right to do so.
“My mother-in-law thought Id keep supporting her out of fear,” Mary thought, gazing out at the grey February courtyard. “But she didnt know I had other plans.”
The next morning, while Margaret was at the clinic, Mary called a locksmith. The locks were changed in an hour.
That evening, her mother-in-law returned from her usual roundsshopping and complaining to shopkeepers about her lot in life. But her key wouldnt turn in the lock.
“Mary! Mary, open up!” she banged on the door. “What sort of joke is this?”
Mary stepped into the hallway, calm as she regarded the flustered woman.
“No joke, Margaret. Pack your thingsIve called a taxi.”
“What? Have you lost your mind? Where are you sending me?”
“Home. To your son. Where you belong.”
“But I cant! Sophie lives there! Its inappropriate!”
“And was it inappropriate for me?” Mary asked quietly, watching as Margarets face hardened, ready for battle.
“How dare you!” she screeched. “Im an old woman! My hearts weak! You cant do this!”
“I can. This is my flat.”
“Then Ill go to the neighbours! Theyll hear what kind of woman you are!”
“Tell them. I dont care anymore.”
The packing was quickMargaret hadnt brought much. In the taxi, she sat in fuming silence, breathing heavily, occasionally clutching her chest for dramatic effect.
Outside Davids building, Mary helped with the suitcase. Up to the third floor they went. The door opened to reveal a startled David in his pyjamas.
“Mary? Mum? Whats going on?”
“Whats going on,” Mary said, pushing the suitcase inside, “is that Im returning your mother. She no longer lives with me.”
Sophie appeareda pretty blonde in a dressing gown. Her face fell when she saw Margaret.
“But she cant stay here!” David protested. “This is were”
“Building your new life,” Mary finished. “Lovely. Build itwithout me.”
“Mary, you dont understand,” David said in that patronising tone reserved for children. “Mum needs help. Shes elderly, unwell. Her pensions meagre.”
“She has a son. Let him help.”
“But Ive got a new family now!”
“And Ive got a new life. One that doesnt include your problems.”
Margaret, silent until now, erupted.
“David! Do you see how shes treating me? Throwing an old woman out! Heartless! I loved her like a daughter!”
“Mum, come on,” David muttered, panic flickering in his eyes.
“If you want to turn your mother away, thats your conscience,” Mary said, turning towards the door. “But none of you will set foot in my home again. I wont open the door.”
“Mary, wait!” David called after her.
But she was already descending the stairs, ignoring the shrill protests behind her.
At home, Mary booted up her laptop and booked a holidaytwo weeks in Spain, all-inclusive. The money shed saved for new furniture would cover it nicely. A small price for peace after a month of Margaret.
That evening, David called.
“Mary, how could you be so cruel? Mums in tears.”
“Let her cry in your flat.”
“But Sophie and I have just started our lives together! You understand?”
“I do. I understand its your problem now.”
“Mary, be reasonable. Well figure something out, just not yet. Give us time.”
“You had time. A whole month, while I housed your mother. Times up.”
She hung up and switched off her phone.
For three days, calls came inDavid, Margaret, even unknown numbers. Probably Margarets friends roped into her campaign. Mary ignored them all.
On Thursday morning, sipping coffee by the window, she watched children play in the courtyard. The silence in her flat was bliss after a month of chaos.
The doorbell rang. Sophie stood there, red-eyed.
“Mary, can we talk?”
“About what?”
“About Margaret. I know youve had a falling-out, but”
“We didnt fall out. I set boundaries.”
“Shes difficult,” Sophie whispered. “She blames me for breaking up the family. There are scenes every day. Davids never home, and Im left with her. The things she says”
Mary nearly smiled. A month ago, she might have pitied the girl, offered advice, even helped. Now, she simply watched her.
“Thats your family matter.”
“But maybe we could take
