Long ago, in a quiet corner of England, there was a moment Emily would never forget.
“Darling, Ive been thinking,” her mother, Margaret, began one evening. “Why do you need three rooms? One would surely be enough. Little Sophie sleeps with you anyway.”
At first, Emily didnt grasp her meaning. She assumed her mother wanted to dump another so-called “treasure” into their homesome chipped old armchair or a dusty sideboard that had been cluttering her own house.
“Well… yes, we dont use the other rooms much,” Emily admitted cautiously.
“There, you see!” Margaret exclaimed. “So, Ive decided to rent them out. Ill find quiet, respectable tenants. No sense leaving good space unused, is there? You know how it isI let you stay there, and now Im left scraping by on pennies.”
Emily froze. At first, she couldnt believe her ears. Then, a cold crack splintered through her chest. Visions flashed in her mindstrangers in their kitchen, noise, chaos, endless guestsall in the home where her three-month-old daughter slept. Perhaps it wouldnt be so bad, but it was a gamble. And she wouldnt risk her childs safety.
“Mum… what do you mean, tenants? I have a baby! I dont want strangers in the house.”
“Oh, dont be dramatic,” Margaret scoffed. “You grew up in a shared house, and you turned out fine. Ive been more than fairnot charging you a penny extra, waiting while you save. But what am I supposed to do? Starve?”
Emily clenched her teeth. She hadnt expected such betrayal from her own mother. Margaret would never rent out rooms in her own flat. But here? No hesitation.
Still, Emily pushed her hurt aside. Sophie was all that mattered.
“If its that important to you… fine. Well pay you for this month,” Emily finally said. “Well figure something out after that.”
She hoped her mother might relentsay she couldnt take money from her own daughter, especially now. But
“Very well. Ill charge you the family ratetwo hundred pounds,” Margaret replied airily. “Just give me a fortnights notice if you leave. And youll need to show the flat to the next tenants. No gaps in payment, mind.”
“Fine,” Emily hissed, hanging up.
She opened her banking app and transferred the money at once. As she pressed “Send,” she felt itthe shift from family to business.
Margaret had always been like this. Clever at twisting things to her advantage, though never so sharply before.
When Emily was ten, shed discovered her godmother sent lavish gifts every Christmas and birthdayplush ponies, robotic dogs, fashionable dolls. Margaret passed them off as her own, adding nothing. Emily had been hurt, but only slightly. She knew it was wrong, but the full weight hadnt sunk in. Her godmother, however, was furious and sent gifts through Emilys grandmother after that.
Another time, Aunt Lydia and cousin Lucy planned a short stay in London to sort paperwork. Theyd already booked a hotel when Margaret swooped in.
“Dont be silly, trailing around with a child! Stay with us. Its not the Ritz, mind, but youll be comfortable.”
Aunt Lydia, reluctant to impose, stocked their fridge to the brim. “Our sharefood. Yoursthe cooking,” shed offered cheerfully. “Well be out all day, queues and museums and such.”
They left early, returned late, caused no trouble. Yet on the third day, Margaret announced:
“Lydia, Ive overestimated myself. Perhaps ring that hotel?”
Aunt Lydia was livid. The hotel refused her now, forcing a frantic search for lodgings. Emily never saw them again.
Back then, Emily believed her mother was simply tired of guests. Now she understoodMargaret had wanted a free feast. Once satisfied, shed cast them out.
Before, Emily had only felt the edges of her mothers schemes. Teachers scowled when Margaret refused school contributions. Birthday invitations never cameofficially because “who knows what those parents are like,” really because gifts cost money. But all that paled next to the flat.
Emily and James had known each other since school. Friendship turned to love. James gave up his dream of studying medicine in Edinburgh for her, staying to train as a psychologist instead. They married, saved for a mortgage, planned childrenlater, when they had their own place.
Then life intervened. An unexpected pregnancy.
Two pink lines left Emily torn. A child with the man she lovedbut now? When they were so close to their deposit?
“Your choice,” James had said, though his eyes betrayed his own longing.
Enter Margaret.
“Whats there to ponder?” shed declared. “God sends the babe, Hell send the bread! Stay in my second flatGrandmothers old place. Save your pennies. And dont you dare end thiswhat if you cant have another?”
Her offer tipped the scales. Despite Margarets ways, Emily believed they had a decent relationship. A mother with means helping her struggling daughterhow noble. How right. If only it had stayed that way.
Now Emily didnt know where to turn. What if Margaret decided two hundred wasnt enough? Or moved in friends unasked? Nothing would surprise her.
That evening, James listened, grim. When Emily broke down, he held her tight.
“Dont worry. Ill sort it. Faster than a month,” he promised.
And he did.
Days later, they visited his mother, Eleanor. Nothing unusualthey dropped by often. Eleanor had known Emily since she was a girl, taking her and James to the park as children.
This time, Eleanor took Emilys hand.
“Dear, James told me. Dont fretIll help with the deposit. Youre good children, independent. At your age, some still lean on their parents.”
Her quiet words held none of Margarets pomp. But the warmth in her eyesEmily wept into her hands at the table. The contrast was too sharp: her own mother squeezing them out, her mother-in-law lifting them up.
They moved in with Eleanor while arranging the mortgage. James packed their things; Emily returned the keys to Margarets flatbut didnt go up. She left them in the postbox, texted her mother to collect them.
“You didnt come in?” Margaret asked later.
“Isnt it obvious?”
“Well… you chose to leave. No one forced you. Youre the one who took offence.”
From that day, Emily barely spoke to her mother. Truthfully, she had no timepaperwork, signatures, renovations. She took freelance work to ease the mortgage. Hard, yes, but she felt part of something greater.
Now her familyJames, Sophie, Eleanorwas her world. Eleanor had given them more than money: faith, support, a future. As for Margaret… well, one doesnt choose their mother. Sometimes family isnt blood, but those who stand by youor at least dont betray you.
