Listen, Mum, a lot of my mates had help from their parents with housing, said the grown-up son. Im getting married sooncant you help us out with a flat? You dont want us drifting from place to place, do you? It doesnt have to be a purchasewe could just move into the one-bed youre renting out. Though itd be fair if you put it in my name
Margaret sat at the kitchen table, sorting through bills. Her husband had left for work hours ago, but she still hadnt mustered the energy to tidy up. Her thoughts buzzed around like disturbed wasps. Lately, peace in the household had been shatteredher youngest son, Oliver, had been wearing her and Davids patience thin.
Margaret longed to finally live for herselfto decorate the spare room just how she liked, to buy sleek new furniture for the lounge. Oliver was getting married; hed move out with his wife, and the whole flat would be hers and Davids. But life had other plans. Her eldest daughter, Emily, had recently divorced her good-for-nothing husband, leaving Margaret and David to pick up the pieces. Renovations were scrappedthe largest room went to Emily and the grandchildren, little James and Sophie.
In a months time, Oliver was set to marry his fiancée, Victoria. Hed moved her into *his* space months ago, and now seven people were crammed into a three-bedroom flat, practically tripping over each other.
Victoria walked into the kitchen. Margaret frowned the moment she saw her.
“Morning, Margaret,” she said, adjusting her perfect ponytail. “Are you having breakfast, or shall I sit here alone? Dont want to intrude.”
Victoria addressed her future mother-in-law casually, just by her first namenever “Mrs. Thompson.” The cheeky, entitled fiancée didnt inspire much warmth in Margaret. If it were up to her, she wouldnt be welcoming this woman into the family. But Oliver was smitten, so she and David had to grin and bear it.
“Hello, Victoria. Ive already eaten,” Margaret replied curtly. “Give me five minutes to clear up, then you can have the kitchen.”
Victoria took a glass from the shelf and filled it with water.
“Margaret, I wanted to ask you something. Oliver and I were talking about where well live after the wedding What do you think?”
Margaret set the bills aside. There it wasthe thread theyd been tugging at for months.
“Weve already discussed this, Victoria. Theres a spare room. You can stay there.”
Victoria put the glass down, her face instantly twisting into what Margaret had dubbed her *patronising sneer*.
“Margaret, lets be honest. Youve done a lovely job with the place. Its cosy, bright. But its *your* flat. You and David have lived here thirty years. And, frankly, with Emily and two kids thats five extra people. Oliver and I dont want to live under a microscope.”
“And how *do* you picture married life?” Margaret asked, irritation rising. “You do realise you dont own a place, dont you? Renting is your only option.”
“Thats exactly what weve been thinking about,” Victoria cut in, sitting across from her. “We considered your other flatthe one-bed you rent out. Couldnt we live there? Itd be perfect. Wed pay rent, obviously Or you could just *give* it to us. It *is* your property, after all.”
Margaret smirked.
“Ive got two children, in case you forgot. So Im meant to hand you a second flat and leave Emily with nothing?”
“Emily could stay with you,” Victoria shrugged. “Three bedroomsyou and David in one, Emily and the kids in another. Plenty of space.”
“Emily cant live with us permanently,” Margaret clenched her fists. “Shes divorcedshe needs her own life. And let me explain this again: I *wont* give you the flat. I wont let you assume Ill solve your housing problems. Youre young, you workearn your own home.”
“But that takes *years*!” Victoria threw up her hands. “Oliver just got a promotion, but saving for a deposit could take five to seven years! We want to live *now*!”
“Then why the lavish wedding?” Margarets tone brooked no argument. “Why the limos, the doves, the hundred-guest reception if you cant even afford a roof? Just elope and put the money toward a depositwouldnt that make more sense?”
“Margaret, thats *your* opinion,” Victoria said, forcing calm. “Oliver and I see it differently. Its our daywe want to celebrate how we *dreamed*. I want the dress, I want my friends to see were not broke. I want to *show them*. Dont you understand?”
“Oh, I understand,” Margaret nodded. “You want to show off. And I think skipping straight to marriage without securing a home is a fast track to divorce. Smart people sort housing *first*.”
Victoria shot her a venomous glare and stormed out. She had no comeback.
That evening, Oliver brought it up againclearly put up to it by Victoria. This time, he targeted their parents recent anniversary celebration.
“You and Dad celebrated thirty years at a fancy restaurant because you *could*. You scrimped for a decade, paid off the car loanthe car we *gave* you, by the way. And yes, we splashed outwe *earned* it!”
“You couldve had a quiet night in! A barbecue at the cottage wouldve been cheaper. Do you know how much I could use that money now? How much did you spend? Two hundred? Three hundred grand?”
Margaret turned to 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 weddingwe had to take a *loan* for your fairy tale. And now youre *lecturing* me?”
“Dont shout at me,” Oliver snapped. “No ones blaming you. Im just claiming whats *fair*. Where am I supposed to take my wife? Here? Some rented hovel? Mum, Im *asking* you!”
“And *Im* asking why *her* parents cant house you! You demand I hand over our only safety netthe flat we kept for our retirement. Well keep renting it out, same as always!”
“Since when? Youve had your turngive *us* a chance, Mum!”
“Youre forgetting your sister, Oliver. Emilys got kidsshe needs help more than you do!”
Footsteps interrupted themVictoria burst in.
“Emily can lean on her ex,” she said sharply, “or the flat youll leave *her*. Give us the one-bedwe wont touch this place. Right, Ollie?”
The argument escalated. Everyone thought they were right. Oliver and his fiancée had long abandoned politenessthey werent asking anymore. They were *demanding* a flat theyd done nothing to earn.
A week before the wedding, the house was unexpectedly quietOliver and Victoria were away visiting friends, Emily and the kids were visiting cousins. Margaret and David were watching telly when the doorbell rang. They exchanged glancesthey werent expecting anyone.
David answered. The moment the lock clicked, a shrill voice pierced the flatVictorias mother, Zoe.
“Dave, hi. Maggie in? Let me through!”
Margaret froze. Shed only met Zoe three times, but that was enough. Victoria was her mothers daughter.
Margaret hurried to the halljust in time. Zoe was already kicking off her shoes.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Margaret asked coldly.
Zoe grinned.
“Hiya, Mags. Came for a chat. Long overdue, really. The kids big days coming, and my Vickys in bits*thanks to you*.”
Margaret arched a brow.
“Really? What have I done now?”
Zoe scoffed.
“Dont play dumb! Why wont you let them have the spare flat? Its *empty*! Too stingy to help your own son?”
David exhaled sharply. Margaret squeezed his handa silent plea to stay calm.
“Zoe, why dont *you* buy them a place? Why is housing them *my* job?”
Zoe looked genuinely baffled.
“Whered I get that kind of money? We live paycheque to paycheque! If *I* had a spare place, Id hand it over in a heartbeat. So come on, Magsstop being difficult. Give them the flat. No need for drama, eh?”
David had heard enough. Gently steering Zoe out, he yanked the door open.
“Enough. *Out*. Tell your daughter the flats off the table. *End of discussion*.”
Zoe left, grumbling. David called Oliver immediatelyhe was to move out the moment he got back. Enough was enough.
