“You’ve had your turn, now it’s ours.”
“Listen, Mum,” said the grown son, “most of my mates had their parents help with housing. Im getting married sooncant you sort us out with a flat? You dont want us living out of a suitcase, do you? Doesnt even have to be a purchasejust let us have the one-bedder you rent out. Better yet, put it in my name you know, to keep things fair!”
Margaret sat at the kitchen table, sifting through bills. Her husband, James, had left for work ages ago, but she couldnt bring herself to tidy up. Her thoughts buzzed like a swarm of agitated bees. Lately, peace in the family had crumbledtheir youngest, Oliver, had been grating on their nerves.
Shed dreamt of finally living for herselfredoing the spare room just how she liked, buying sleek new furniture for the lounge. Oliver would marry and move out with his wife, leaving the whole flat to her and James. But no such luck. Their eldest, Emily, had recently divorced her layabout husband, throwing the household into chaos. Renovation plans were scrappedthe largest room now belonged to Emily and the grandkids, little Alfie and Rosie.
And now, in a months time, Oliver was set to marry his fiancée, Charlotte. Hed moved her in months ago, claiming it as “his” space, leaving seven people crammed into a three-bed flat, tripping over each other daily.
Charlotte strolled into the kitchen. Margaret tensed at the sight of her.
“Morning, Margaret,” she said, adjusting her flawless ponytail. “Are you having breakfast, or shall I sit alone? Dont want to intrude.”
She addressed her future mother-in-law with casual familiarity, never using her surname or title. The sheer cheek of it made Margarets skin crawl. If it were up to her, shed never have welcomed such a girl into the family. But Oliver was besotted, so she and James had to grin and bear it.
“Good morning, Charlotte,” Margaret answered curtly. “Ive eaten. Give me five minutes to clear up, then you can have the kitchen.”
Charlotte took a glass from the shelf and filled it with water.
“Margaret, I wanted to ask you something. Oliver and I were discussing where wed live after the wedding What do you think?”
Margaret set the bills aside. There it wasthe thread theyd been tugging for months.
“Weve already talked about this, Charlotte. Theres a spare room. Live there.”
Charlotte set the glass down. Her face twisted into what Margaret had privately dubbed her “patronising sneer.”
“Margaret, lets be honest. Youve done a lovely job with the flat. Its cosy, bright. But its *your* home. You and James have lived here thirty years. And now, with Emily and two kids thats five people, not three. Oliver and I dont want to live under a microscope.”
“And how do you picture married life?” Margaret asked, irritation rising. “Youve no place of your own. The best you can manage is renting.”
“Thats exactly what were talking about,” Charlotte cut in, sitting opposite her. “We considered your other flatthe one-bedder you rent out. Itd be perfect for us. Wed pay rent, of course Or you could just *give* it to us. It *is* yours, after all.”
Margaret smirked.
“Ive two children, in case youve forgotten. Hand it to you and leave Emily with nothing?”
“Emily could stay here,” Charlotte shrugged. “Three bedroomsyou and James in one, Emily and the kids in another. Plenty of space.”
“Emily cant live here forever,” Margaret clenched her fists. “Shes divorcedshe needs her own life. And Ill say it againI wont give you that flat. I wont have you expecting me to solve your housing problems. Youre young, you worksave up for your own place.”
“But thatll take ages!” Charlotte threw up her hands. “Olivers just had a promotion, but buying a flat will take five, maybe seven years! We want to live properly *now*!”
“Then why this lavish wedding?” Margarets tone brooked no argument. “Why the limos, doves, a hundred-guest banquet if you cant even afford a roof? Have a quiet registry office do, put the money toward a deposit. Isnt that simpler?”
“Thats *your* idea of simple,” Charlotte said coolly. “Oliver and I see it differently. Its our daywe want it perfect. I want the dress, the glamour, my friends seeing were not skint. I want to *show* them! Dont you get it?”
“Oh, I get it,” Margaret nodded. “You want to show off. But I also know no home means divorce waiting to happen. Smart couples get the flat *first*, then marry.”
Charlotte shot her a venomous look and stormed out. She had no comeback.
***
That evening, Oliver cornered her with the same argumentno doubt put up to it by Charlotte. This time, he dragged their recent anniversary into it.
“You and Dad celebrated thirty years at a posh restaurant because you *could*. You scrimped for a decade, paid off the car loanthe car *you* gave *me*, by the way. And yes, you splashed out because you *earned* it!”
“You couldve stayed in! Had a barbecue at the cottage. Wouldve been cheaper. That money couldve helped me now! How much did you drop? Two grand? Three?”
Margaret whirled on him.
“Youre saying this to *me*?” Her voice cracked. “You, who couldnt even save for a decent suit? We *bought* your wedding one! Were covering seventy percent of this farce, even took out a loan for your little fantasies. And now you *dare* throw it in my face?”
“Dont shout at me,” Oliver snapped. “No ones blaming you. Im just asking for whats fair. Where am I supposed to take my wife? Here? Some mouldy bedsit? Mum, Im asking you!”
“And Im asking why *her* parents cant sort you out! You demand I hand over the only safety net Ive kept for myself? That flats for me and your dads retirement. Well keep renting it!”
“Since when? Youve had your turngive *us* a shot, Mum!”
“You forget youve a sister, Oliver. Emilys got kidsshe needs help more than you, young and healthy!”
Footsteps interrupted themCharlotte swept in.
“Emily can lean on her ex,” she declared, “or that flat youll leave *her*. Give *us* the one-bedderwe wont touch this place. Right, Ollie?”
The row escalated. Both sides dug in. Oliver and Charlotte had long shed any pretencethey werent asking anymore. They *demanded* a flat theyd no right to.
***
A week before the wedding, the house was oddly quietOliver and Charlotte were off at a mates cottage, Emily and the kids visiting cousins up north. Margaret and James were watching telly when the doorbell rang. They frownedthey werent expecting anyone.
James answered. The moment the lock clicked, a shrill voice pierced the flatCharlottes mother, Zoe.
“Jim! Hi. Marg in? Let me through!”
Margaret froze. Shed met Zoe only thrice, but that was enough. Charlotte was her mothers daughter.
Margaret hurried to the halljust in time. Zoe had already toed off her shoes.
“To what do we owe this?” Margaret asked coldly.
Zoe grinned.
“Hiya, Marg. Came for a chat. Long overdue. The kids big days close, and my Charlies in bits*crying* about you, mind!”
Margaret arched a brow.
“Really? And what have I done now?”
Zoe scoffed.
“Dont play daft! Why wont you let them have that empty flat? Its just sitting there! Too stingy to help your own son?”
James exhaled sharply. Margaret squeezed his handa silent plea to stay calm.
“Zoe, why dont *you* buy them a place? Whys it *my* job to house them?”
Zoe looked genuinely baffled.
“Whered I get that sort of money? Were just getting by! If *I* had a spare place, Id hand it over in a heartbeat. So come on, Margstop being difficult. Give them the flat. No need for fuss, eh?”
James had had enough. Steering Zoe toward the door, he barked:
“Enough. *Out*. Tell your daughter the flats off the table. End of.”
Cursing, Zoe left. James rang Oliver and told him to pack his things the moment he got back. Enough was enough.
