“Take these sausage rolls, they’re still warm. I baked them this morning,” said the elderly woman in a floral apron, handing her neighbour a plate covered with a tea towel. “And a jar of blackberry jamfresh, only made yesterday.”
“Thank you, Margaret, you spoil me,” replied Dorothy with a grateful smile, accepting the treats. “At least stay for a cuppa, since you’re here. You’re always in such a rushwe hardly see you.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Margaret nodded, following her into the kitchen. “Besides, theres news. Have you heard about Emma and her husband falling out?”
Dorothy sighed, fetching cups from the cupboard. “Hard not tothe whole block knows. They were shouting so loud the walls shook. What was it about?”
“Apparently, he went and brought his mother down from Yorkshirewithout so much as a word. And theyve only got that tiny flat,” Margaret tutted, settling at the table. “Emma hit the roof.”
Dorothy put the kettle on and sat opposite. “Thatll be Daniel, the one with no sense? Didnt even warn his wife?”
“Probably knew shed say no. But the poor old dears cottage burned downnowhere else to go. So he just turned up with her, gave Emma no choice,” Margaret lowered her voice. “Ran into Sarah from number twelve yesterdayshe said Emmas packing her bags. Leaving him.”
“Youre joking!” Dorothy gasped. “Over her mother-in-law? Thats no reason to split a family!”
Margaret shrugged. “Dunno if its true or just gossip, but theres no smoke without fire…”
That same evening, on the other side of town, a woman in her forties paced the kitchen, clutching her phone. Linda was wound up tighter than a springtucking a greying strand behind her ear, drumming her fingers, scowling at nothing.
“Claire, I just dont know what to do,” she hissed into the phone. “He didnt even ask! Just dropped it on me. Can you believe it? I come home from work, and theres Patricia sitting in the lounge with her suitcases, like she owns the place!”
Her friend murmured something, but Linda cut in. “I get shes got nowhere to goof course I do! But why couldnt he talk to me first? Were married, for heavens sake! These things arent decided unilaterally!”
The door creaked open, and in walked Jamestall, tired, with a receding hairline. Linda fell silent, shooting him a look sharp enough to slice bread.
“Claire, Ill call you back,” she muttered, hanging up.
Awkward silence. James rummaged in the fridge, poured himself water, avoiding eye contact.
“Wheres Patricia?” Linda broke first.
“Resting in the lounge,” he mumbled. “Long journey.”
“The lounge,” Linda echoed. “On our sofa.”
“Where else was she supposed to go?” James voice turned defensive. “We dont have a spare room.”
“Thats exactly it, James,” Linda kept her tone measured. “We dont have space. Sixty square metres for three is cramped. And you moved your mother in without consulting me!”
“What choice did I have?” He slammed his glass down, water sloshing. “Her house burned down! Should Ive left her on the street?”
“I wanted you to talk to me first!” Lindas voice rose, then dropped as she remembered their guest next door. “We couldve discussed optionsrenting her a studio, staying with your sister in Manchester. Shes got room!”
“Manchesters miles away, you know that,” James rubbed his temples. “And rentings money we dont have. Were barely scraping by as it is.”
Linda shook her head. “Its not about money. Its about you deciding for both of us. You didnt even call to warn me! I walk in, and bamyour mums moved in!”
“I tried calling,” he grumbled. “You didnt pick up.”
“I was in a meeting! Couldnt you wait two hours? Had to spring it on me like some dreadful surprise?”
James stared into his water like it held the meaning of life.
“Fine,” Linda took a steadying breath. “Whats dones done. But lets discuss how long thisll last. Does your mum have insurance? Will she rebuild?”
“Place was condemned,” James shook his head. “Barely standing to begin with. And no insurancewho insures cottages out there? So… its long-term, Lin. Maybe permanent.”
“Permanent?” Lindas legs buckled; she sank onto a chair. “James, have you lost the plot? Three of us in this shoebox wont work!”
“Where else can she go?” he repeated stubbornly. “Shes my mother. Im all shes got.”
“And me?” Linda whispered. “What am I? Im your wife. Youre all Ive got too.”
Just then, Patricia appeareda petite woman with silver hair in a bun, wearing a mothball-scented cardigan despite the summer heat.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said timidly. “But the walls are thin.”
Silence. She shifted awkwardly.
“Linda, love,” Patricia continued, “I know Ive landed like a ton of bricks. If Im in the way, Ill go. Theres that nice retirement home in”
“Mum, stop,” James hugged her. “Youre not going anywhere. This is your home now.”
Lindas chest burned. “Your home now”said without consulting her, the person who paid half the mortgage. But aloud, she only said:
“Patricia, its not that youre unwelcome. But this shouldve been a joint decision. James and I are a team. He cant just bulldoze over that.”
“I understand, dear,” Patricia nodded. “Young couples need space. An old biddy like me underfoot wont help.”
“Mum!” James groaned. “No one said that! Lindas rightI shouldve discussed it.”
Patricia sank onto a chair with a sigh. “Dont defend me, son. I see Ive picked a bad time. Lindas knackered from work, and here I am with my dramas.”
Linda blinked. Her mother-in-law was voicing the apology James shouldve made. Against her will, she felt a thaw.
“Patricia,” she softened, “lets talk properly. Its a mess, but not hopeless. How long ago did the fire happen?”
“Three days back,” Patricias voice wobbled. “Id popped to the neighbours to help with scones. Wiring fault, they reckon. Came back to flames. Got the photos and papers out, thanks to the village fire volunteers. But the rest…” She dabbed her eyes with a lace hanky.
Guilt pricked Linda. The woman had lost everything, and shed been worrying about her sofa.
“Im so sorry,” she said, covering Patricias hand. “Thats awful. Of course youll stay as long as needed. We just… need to figure out how to manage.”
Patricia squeezed back. “Thank you, love. Ill keep out of your way. Help where I cancooking, cleaning. Still spry, thank the Lord.”
“Sorted, then,” James relaxed visibly. “Nowwhos for takeaway? I grabbed a roast chicken and salads.”
Dinner was stiff. Patricia chattered about village life, her garden, the neighbours. James listened intently; Linda pushed potatoes around her plate, imagining three in a flat built for two.
Afterwards, Linda washed up while James converted the sofa for his mum.
“Let me dry,” Patricia offered, rolling up her sleeves.
“Ta,” Linda passed her a plate. “Patricia, Im sorry about earlier. That wasnt fair.”
“Dont be silly,” Patricia waved her off. “Im the one who barged in. James said youd be fine with it. Turns out…”
“Its not you,” Linda admitted. “Its how James handled it. Fifteen years together, weve always talked things through. Then thisno discussion.”
“Hes been like that since nappies,” Patricia sighed. “Thinks he knows best. Just like his dad.”
Linda smirked. “Too right. Stubborn as a mule.”
They finished the dishes. James was hauling a camp bed from the cupboard.
“Whats that for?” Linda frowned.
“Mum cant do the sofa,” he explained. “Bad back needs firm support. So she takes the camp bed, Ill kip here.”
“And me?” Linda crossed her arms. “On the ceiling?”
“Youve got the bedroom!” James looked baffled.
“So were sleeping apart now? Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
“Linda, not this again,” James groaned. “Mum needs the camp bed. We cant both fit on it. Whats the big deal?”
“The big deal,” Linda said slowly, “is that we didnt discuss it. Again. You just decide. Again.”
“Children, dont squabble,” Patricia cut in. “Ill take the sofa, I dont mind.”
“No, Mum,” James said firmly. “Doctors orders. Camp bed it is.”
“See?” Linda raised an eyebrow at Patricia. “‘Doctors orders.’ No room for debate.”
She stormed off, bedroom door slamming behind her. James and Patricia exchanged helpless looks.
“Maybe I should go to your Aunt Junes?” Patricia whispered.
“Over my dead body,” James scowled. “Youre staying. Lindall cool off.”
Alone, Linda sat on the bed, tears hot on her cheeks. She wasnt crying over Patriciawhod turned out surprisingly decent. She cried because her husband kept treating her like an afterthought. Fifteen years of marriage, and her opinion still didnt matter.
Her phone buzzedClaire: *You okay? Any better?* She ignored it. What could she say? That her husband was behaving like a dictator? That they were now effectively roommates?
A soft knock. Linda wiped her face. “Come in.”
Patricia hovered with a steaming mug. “Brought you tea. Peppermintcalms the nerves.”
“Thanks,” Linda took it, sheepish. “Sorry about…”
“Dont be,” Patricia sat beside her. “I get it. James has always been a know-it-all. Drove me up the wall when he was fourteen.”
Linda smiled, picturing a teenage James sulking.
“Howd you handle it?”
“Talked,” Patricia shrugged. “Shouting just makes him dig in. But calmly explaining why his idea wont work…”
“I tried,” Linda sighed. “He doesnt listen.”
“Not tonight, he wont,” Patricia patted her hand. “Hes all worked up defending me. Wait till tomorrow. Meanwhile… I could sleep on your floor, you two take the lounge.”
“Dont be daft,” Linda snorted. “Not with your back. I just… need time to adjust.”
“Ill keep to myself,” Patricia promised. “And help outI make a cracking shepherds pie. And Ive got a sewing machinecould whip up new curtains, cushion covers. Spruce the place up.”
Somehow, the tension eased. Patricia wasnt the meddling monster shed fearedjust a lost, kind woman.
“Patricia,” Linda said finally, “I know youve nowhere else. And I dont mind you staying. Really. I just want us to make decisions together. James cant keep bulldozing ahead.”
“Ill have a word,” Patricia promised, standing. “Now rest. Long day.”
After she left, Linda sipped her tea, oddly soothed. Whether it was the peppermint or Patricias wisdom, something helped.
Morning brought the smell of bacon and fresh coffee. Patricia was flipping pancakes at the stove.
“Sleep well, love?” she chirped. “James left earlysaid hell work late.”
“Ran off, more like,” Linda grumbled, but without bite.
“Gave us time to get acquainted,” Patricia winked. “Women sort things better without men underfoot.”
Over breakfast, they chattedpancake recipes, the spider plant needing repotting, weekend weather. To her surprise, Linda enjoyed it. They shared a dislike for loud telly and a love of detective novels.
“You know,” Patricia said over tea, “I didnt jump at coming here either.”
“No?” Linda paused. “James made it sound like you packed that same night.”
“Oh, he insisted,” Patricia chuckled. “But I said no at firsttold him Id rent somewhere or stay with June. But our James, once he gets an idea…”
“What changed your mind?”
“He said youd be fine with it,” Patricia said simply. “Called you kind, understanding. Said youd welcome me.”
Lindas throat tightened. Had James lied to them both?
“Well talk tonight,” she said firmly. “All three of us. Figure this out.”
Patricia nodded. “But mark my wordswell manage. And Jamesll learn. No more one-man decisions.”
Linda smiled. Maybe there was a silver liningan ally against James stubbornness. Maybe, just maybe, the flat would feel cosier with Patricia in it.
“Patricia,” she reached across the table. “Proper welcome to the family.”
Patricias eyes glistened as she clasped her hand. “Thank you, love. You wont regret it.”
Strangely, Linda believed her.
