Lady of Her Own Home
Annie, youve left the butter uncovered again, Helen sighed, dragging her chair closer with a scrape. Now its spent the whole night soaking up smells from the fridge. Jamie, love, spread some cream cheese instead, I bought it fresh yesterday.
My wife, Anne, gripped the knife tighter and silently kept slicing bread, trying to keep her hands steady despite the slight tremble. Outside, October rain streaked the windows in uneven trails, and somehow, the kitchen felt too cramped for three grown adults.
Mum, honestly, the butters fine, Jamie mumbled, not even glancing up from his phone, chewing on his sandwich.
Of course, of course. Im only thinking of you. You youngsters dont realise how food goes off if you dont store it right. Then youre sick, and whos left to sort you out?
Anne put the plate of bread on the table, sat down with a sigh. Her head had been swimming all morning, and there was a nasty taste in her mouth. She poured herself a mug of English Breakfast tea, hoping a hot drink would settle her queasiness.
Annie, youre barely touching your food, my mother-in-law remarked, eyeing her over the top of her glasses. Youre going so thin, love. Jamie, how do you plan on having a family with a wife who wont eat? Kids need a healthy mother.
Something tightened in me. Anne took a careful sip of scalding tea and forced a smile.
Mrs. Walker, Im just not hungry in the mornings. Always been like that.
Oh, I remember my day, we went to work with a fever and never moaned. Now young people take sick days for every sneeze. I was raising Jamie by myself at your age, you know, and still kept the house tidy and held down a job.
Jamie finally looked up.
Mum, whats that got to do with anything? Anne was in the office till eight last night doing end-of-month figures.
Im not arguing, just worried for you both. Youre a young couple, high time to get on with starting a family, but your health is so frail
Anne got up, carrying her untouched cup to the sink. In the windows reflection, she could see Mrs Walker plop another spoonful of curd cheese on Jamies plate, patting his shoulder tenderly. Behind her, that caring voice, soft but persistent, kept speaking to my wife.
Jamie, dont forget that big meeting today. I pressed your blue shirt, its hanging over the chair.
Anne lingered by the sink, clutching her cooling tea, feeling an engulfing, heavy something inside. Not just tirednesssomething more bitter, more bitter than resentment.
Funny, just three months ago, she was genuinely pleased when my mother moved in.
***
Helen Walker arrived at ours at the end of July. Shed phoned late, voice nearly tearful. The flat below had flooded hers, ruined the parquet and some furniture. Needed a big refurb. The builders promised theyd be done in a weekten days at most.
Jamie, might I stay with you for a week? Hotels are so dear, and Ill be lonely shed said, and of course, Jamie agreed at once.
Anne was actually pleased. My mum lived in Bathwe rarely saw each other except for holidays. She always came off as lively and cheerful. A bit talkative, but kind. Her husband had died five years ago, she worked mornings at the local archives, kept herself busy pottering about with her violets.
A weekll go by in a flash, Anne said, planning where to put Mum up. Weve not really caught up in ages.
Jamie gave her a squeeze, kissed her hair.
Youre an angel. Its awkward, but Ill feel so much better with Mum not fretting alone in that mess.
Helen showed up with two great suitcases and a knotted cardboard box. Anne and Jamie met her at Paddington, helped haul the bags. She looked exhausted, eyes red, lips pressed in a line.
Annie, thank you for taking in an old biddy, Mum said, hugging Anne on the doorstep. I wont be long, promise. Soon as theyre finished, Ill be off; wont be under your feet.
The first few days were almost idyllic. Helen cooked dinners, tidied while Jamie and Anne worked. In the evenings, wed have tea and Rich Tea biscuits shed brought, catch up on news. Jamie sparkled, joked more than usual, so clearly happy with his mum around.
By the end of the second week, though, the mood started shifting.
It began with little things. Helen rearranged the spice jars in the kitchen said it was more sensible her way. Then she refolded the linen in the airing cupboard, put Annes things in different spots. Anne found herself hesitatingshould she say something? After all, it was nothing.
Annie, noticed the dust on your curtain rails, Mum would remark while dishing soup. Mustnt skip cleaning them; can bring on allergies. I gave them a wipe this morning spick and span now.
Thanks, Mrs Walker, Anne would mumble, cheeks flushing. She really hadnt had time to dust every week. After all the work, some nights she just wanted to sink into the sofa and read.
Im not having a go, love Mum would smile just helping out. Make things easier for you.
Then, after three weeks, the builders rang from Bath complications with the electrics were dragging things out, itd be another ten days. Helen was visibly upset, but put on a brave face.
Sorry to be in your way, Jamie. Just a bit longer.
Oh, Mum, dont be daft, Jamie hugged her tight.
Anne watched in silence, a thread of worry creeping in. But it was just another weeknothing drastic.
But a month came and went, then another half. Helen had made herself at home in our small two-bed. The spare room once Annes home office now had Mums suitcase and her knitting. Anne started working on her laptop in the kitchen or our bedroom. Awkward, but she couldnt bring herself to ask for her space back.
Every night Helen cooked tea. Tasty, yes, but always Jamies favourites: roast with mash, shepherds pie. Anne preferred lighter things fish and vegetables but didnt know how to mention it.
Annie, not eating again? Helen would sigh. Jamie, look at your wife skinny as a rake. Best see a doctormaybe its her stomach?
Are you alright, Anne? Youre eating less, Jamie showed a flicker of worry.
Just not hungry, Anne insisted. And it was true. Her appetite had disappeared. Mornings, she felt queasy, odd spells of exhaustion in the day. But she dreaded a doctor telling her it was just stress. Admitting that would mean confessing that Mums presence got to her but how could she say such a thing?
***
A crunch came at work mid-September. The tax deadline loomed, and Anne and her two colleagues were staying late. Some nights she got home just before ten, headache and all.
The flat greeted her with the warm glow of house and the aroma of Helens cooking.
Annie, at last! Jamie and I had ours, but I left yours in the pot heat it up. And dont reorganise the pans on the cooker I arranged them for convenience.
Anne nodded, warmed her dinner, barely able to choke anything down. Jamied come, peck her on the cheek, share stories about his day. Helen was always there knitting, thumbing magazines. And always, always present. It felt as if the air was heavier, harder to breathe.
Jamie, is it just me or is your mum settling in for keeps? Anne dared to ask late at night in the dark.
The builders havent finished. Give it time. She cant live there yet, he murmured, half-asleep.
But its been two months
Anne, shes my mum. Shes lonely. Cant you try a bit harder?
That stung. Anne lapsed into silence and rolled to face the wall. Jamie was snoring in a minute. She lay awake, listening to Helen fussing about through the thin wall.
Next day, Helen pounced with an offer:
Annie, I could help clean on Saturdays? Youre so tired, I noticed. Be easier sorting out together.
Anne wouldve refused, but Mrs Walker was already at her elbow mop, bucket, dusters in hand. They cleaned together, Helen offering a steady stream of suggestions: dont forget behind the radiator, time to wash the curtains, the fridge needs a scrub every fortnight. Anne just nodded, wiped, mopped irritation rising, but unable to snap. Helen was only trying to help. How could Anne begrudge her that?
By the end of September, Anne felt like a guest in her own home. An inept, inexperienced one, at that. Helen ran the kitchen, managed the laundry, even did Jamies shirts with starch.
Jamie loves a crisp shirt, shed say with a fond smile. I raised him tidy.
Anne washed her bits separately, late at night, when the machine was free. Sometimes, it felt like she tiptoed about her own place, always trying not to disrupt anything, not to intrude.
She had unsettling dreams endless corridors, every door locked, or trying to cook but all the pots and food vanished.
Shed wake in a cold sweat, heart racing, staring at the ceiling, wishing she could wake Jamie and pour it all out. But the words stuck. How could she say her mother-in-laws kindness was suffocating?
***
Things started getting properly odd on the first of October.
Anne woke feeling sick. Barely made it to the bathroom in time. Slumped over the sink, pale and shaking, she heard Helens anxious voice at the door.
Annie, darling, are you alright? Shall I call the GP?
No, honestly, Im fine. Mustve eaten something dodgy.
Dodgy? a hurt note in Helens voice. I did the cutlets yesterday, with fresh mince. Jamie was fine! Only you
Its not the cutlets, Mrs Walker. Just a queasy stomach.
The fatigue wouldnt leave her. At work, she barely focused, numbers swimming. Her colleague, Mary, was worried.
Anne, you look dreadful. Go home?
Cant deadlines tomorrow.
Health comes first. At least see the nurse.
But Anne didnt. She came home late to a frosty glare from Helen.
Weve been beside ourselves. Jamie too. Dont you realise, worrying us like that?
Works been hectic.
Work! Always at the top of the list. What about home? Poor Jamie spent half the day alone; at least I saw he ate a proper dinner.
Anne headed to the bedroom, closed the door, flopped on the bed. Her head throbbed. Through the wall, the muffled voices of Helen and Jamie. She caught only tones Helen complaining, Jamie soothing.
She pressed her pillow over her face and wondered if she could simply scream. Loudly. But she stayed silent, as always.
The next morning, dressing for work, she found her favourite blouse a white silk one hanging back in the wardrobe with a strange yellowish mark by the collar. Shed sworn it was clean the night before.
Mrs Walker, do you know what happened to my blouse? she asked, stepping into the kitchen.
Helen looked round, eyes innocent.
Blouse, dear?
The white one. It was spotlessnow look
I havent touched your things, love. Maybe you spilt something and forgot?
Anne stared at her that round, guileless face and suddenly realised Helen was lying. She knew what had happened. Shed done it.
But Anne had no proof, so again she said nothing. She put on another top and left for work, a weight settling in her chest.
Things kept disappearing. Her favourite mug a big ceramic one Jamie gave her for her birthday vanished. Never found. Helen just shrugged.
Maybe you smashed it, forgot? Ive not seen it.
Her shampoo disappeared too full bottle empty overnight. Helen shrugged.
Some bottles leak, it happens.
Anne stopped asking. She felt like she was drifting in a fog. She worked by rote during the day, sat with her laptop at night, stopping only for tea. Jamie grew more irritable. More than once they nearly rowed.
Anne, youre on edge all the timework?
No. Not work.
Then what?
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to say she could hardly bear having his mum around, that she felt like a stranger at home, but, as ever, nothing came out.
Just tired. Sorry.
He hugged her, kissed her head.
Hang in there. Mum says her place is nearly sorted.
But it never was. Each week, Helen would call the builders, frown.
Just the wallpaper and the skirtings now, love. A few more days.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months.
***
Towards the end of October, Anne couldnt sleep at all. Or, rather, sleep came, but left her exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, hands shook.
One night, she woke to odd noisesa faint shuffling from Helens room. She sat up, listened. Twice it came, then all was still.
At breakfast, she asked,
Mrs Walker, did you hear anything last night?
No, dear, I sleep like a log. Dreaming, maybe? Nerves are funny. GP, perhaps?
A few days later, a sweet, waxy scent hung in the flatlike a church. Anne sniffed around, found it strongest by Helens door.
Mrs Walker, have you been burning candles? she asked that evening.
Candles? Why ever would I? Did it waft in from next door?
But the scent kept returning at night.
One afternoon, when Helen was out, Anne crept into her room. Everything looked ordinary enough neatly made sofa-bed, piles of Heat magazines, violets on the sill. She opened the wardrobe. All Mrs Walkers clothes hung in a row, suitcases on the floor, and the same cardboard box tied with string.
Anne knelt, reached for the boxwhen the front door banged. She leapt up and slipped out, heart racing.
Annie, home so soon? I thought youd be working late.
Felt a bit off today.
Poor love. Sit down, Ill make tea.
That evening, the waxy scent returned. Passing the hall, Anne noticed their framed wedding photo on a shelf the one usually by the bed. The glass was intact, but her face on the picture was scratchedfine, sharp lines, like someone had taken a needle to it.
Her heart pounded. She stood, gripping the frame, staring at her disfigured image.
Anne, whyve you stopped? Jamie wandered out, yawning.
Jamie look.
He peered at the photo, frowned.
Whats this?
Found it on the shelf. The glass is fine, but the picture
Hm. Maybe it was like that from the printers, and we never noticed?
Jamie, its not a printing fault! Someone scratched it. Deliberately.
Who would do that?
They both knew who else lived under this roof. But to say it aloud was unthinkable. Insane.
I… must be mistaken, she mumbled. Never mind.
That night, Anne didnt sleep. She lay listening, blankly afraid.
***
November brought the chill. Anne was always freezing, wrapping up in her cardigan indoors. The sickness worsened. She barely ate, surviving on tea and dry biscuits when Helen wasnt watching.
Annie, youre looking truly ill, Helen fretted, but Anne caught a glimmer in her eyessatisfaction?
At work, her boss took her aside.
Anne, youve been making mistakes lately. Mixed up the figures on Monday, wrong date on Thursday. Thats not like you.
Im sorry, Ms Jenkins. Wont happen again.
Are you alright? Maybe you need some time off?
Time off. Anne imagined a week at home with Helen and felt herself shrink inside.
No thank you. Im fine.
But she wasnt. She moved through days in a haze. Jamie tried to talk, but Anne barely responded. He got cross, wounded, distant.
Anne, I dont know you lately. Are you here at all?
Sorry. Just tired.
See a doctor, maybe? Mum says youre eating nothing at all.
Mum says. Anne looked up.
Your mother says a lot.
Whats that supposed to mean?
Nothing. Never mind.
She walked off to the bedroom. Jamie didnt follow.
A turning point came shortly after.
Anne arrived home early, around six. The flat ought to have echoed with Helens soaps or her endless calls. But tonight, silence.
She went to wash her face and heard a faint sounda low, chanting voice. Helens room.
Anne froze, listening. Low, endless, like a prayerbut not.
Slowly, she approached and peeked in. The lights were on, the door ajar, the edge of the desk visible. Two thick, church candles were burning.
Annes heart thudded. She pushed open the door.
Helen stood over the desk, muttering and waving her hand over two photos: one of Jamie, one of Anne, mine marked over the face with black marker. She was brandishing a long sewing needle in her fingers.
Mrs. Walker, Annes voice croaked.
Helen spun round. Her face was white, eyes wide.
Annie you I didnt hear you
What are you doing?
Helen shoved the needle behind her back, flustered, then her expression hardened.
None of your business.
Candles. Photos. What is this?
I said mind your own business! Get out of my room!
Something snapped in Anne. All the months of strain and fear erupted.
YOUR room? she stepped forward, hands trembling. This is MY flat! MY room! Youve been living here for three months!
Anne, dont shout
I will shout! Slinking about with candles and needles, defacing my pictures, ruining my things! Making my life hell!
I did nothing of the sort! Helen straightened, eyes cold. Youre destroying everything, all by yourself! Hed have a family by now with another woman. All you care about is work! Youre not a wife, youre a burden!
Annes chest ached as though shed been slapped. She stood, breathing hard, tears stinging.
How dare you
I dare because Im his mother! I raised him! And who are you? You lured him away!
Lured? We love each other were a family!
Family? You cant even give him a child! Look at you, sick and frail. Youre no match for my son.
That was it. Anne lunged at the desk, swiped the candles to the floor (one guttered out, the other burned sideways), picked up her photo and tore it in half.
Get out, she demanded quietly but with steely resolve. Pack your things. Youre leaving now.
What? Helen wavered. You cant
I can! Im lady of this house and I say so! Go. Now.
Jamie will never forgive you!
Thats between Jamie and me. You wont spend another night here!
The front door banged. Jamie was home. Hearing the commotion, he burst into the room.
Whats going on?
Helen ran to him.
Jamie, shes kicking me out! Your wifes throwing me on the street!
Jamie looked from his mother to Anne, from the torn photo and burned candles to the needle. Realisation, then horror, crossed his face.
Mum what the hell is this?
Nothing, love. I was just praying for you…
With a needle? Marking Annes picture? What are you doing?
I only wanted to help! Shes no good for you, I can see it!
Enough! Jamie thundered. Id never heard him shout at her before. Just stop!
He dragged her suitcase out and tossed it onto the bed.
Pack your bags. Ill take you to the station. Now.
Jamie
Now, Mum.
***
Within an hour, Helen was gone. She packed up in silence; Jamie helped, jaw grim. Anne sat in the hall, drained.
Suitcases ready, Helen paused at the door, gave Anne a long, icy glare.
Youll regret this.
Anne didnt reply. Jamie shouldered the bags and left. The door closed.
Silence, sudden and deep, pressed in. Anne wandered to the (now vacant) spare room only remnants of wax on the desk, singed candles, torn photographs. She gathered everything, dumped it in the bin on the balcony.
Then flung open the window, letting in sharp November air. Stood there, watching the dark sky and wet rooftops, filling her lungs for the first time in months.
Jamie returned after midnight, haggard. Dropped onto the bed.
Put her on a train to Bath.
Anne sat beside him, took his hand.
Im sorry.
Dont be. I should be. I didnt see it. Didnt want to see it. Thought you were just tired. That it was work. And it turned out
He broke off, cupping a hand over his face.
Shes lost her grip. I had no idea she could do such things.
Jamie, shes lonely. She lost your dad. Youre everything to her.
That doesnt excuse what she did. Doesnt make it right.
They were silent. Then Jamie hugged Anne, tight, and she felt him shaking.
I was scared Id lose you. Lately, youve felt so far away. I thought you didnt love me anymore.
No. I just couldnt breathe.
Youll never feel like that again. I promise.
The next morning was strange. Anne woke to sunlight peeking through the curtains. No noise in the hall, no rattle in the kitchen, no Helen.
She walked the flat. The spare room was empty only the desk and the old sofa-bed, shelves bare. Her room. Hers again.
Jamie was making coffee in the kitchen. Turned to smile.
Morning.
Morning.
They ate breakfast quietly, but in peace. Anne managed toast and butter and, for the first time in ages, didnt feel ill.
Anne, you really should see the doctor. You look done in. Let me book you in?
Alright then.
He made her an appointment for the next day. Anne went to work, lighter now, as if somebody had lifted a stone from her shoulders.
That evening, Jamie held her on the sofa.
Ive been thinking about Mum. She hasnt called once.
Do you think shes angry?
Probably. But Anne, I cant cut her off completely. Shes my mum. But youre my wife. I wont lose you.
I understand.
Maybe one day, when things cool down, she can visit. Just a visit. For a day.
Anne nodded. The fear still lingered, but she knew Jamie couldnt break family ties entirely. It was his mother.
***
Next day, Anne went to the GP. The doctor, kindly and grey-haired, listened to her symptoms nausea, tiredness, not eating.
When was your last period?
Anne hesitated, then realised she couldnt remember.
Over a month, I think.
Lets do a pregnancy test.
Anne froze. Pregnant? She hadnt considered it, with everything else going on. She and Jamie never took precautions but thought theyd deal with that in the future.
The test was positive.
Congratulations about six weeks along, the GP smiled. The nausea, tiredness, thats all quite normal. Well get you booked in with midwives.
Anne drifted out, dazed. Pregnant. She was pregnant. Their baby.
She sat in the corridor and cried. Relief, hope, fear everything at once.
That evening, she told Jamie. He was speechless, then crushed her in a bear hug, covering her in kisses.
Really? Truly?
Truly. Six weeks.
I I dont know what to say. Anne, its incredible.
They sat in the kitchen, fingers entwined. Jamie repeated how much he loved her, that hed do everything for her and the baby.
***
Three weeks passed. Helen didnt call. Twice, Jamie tried to ring, but she didnt answer. Eventually, she texted: Im fine. Dont worry. Nothing more.
Anne started to heal. She still felt rough, but less so. Appetite returned, energy crept back. Evenings, she and Jamie reclaimed the spare room Annes study again. She bought new curtains, rearranged the furniture, wiped away every trace of Helens stay.
The flat was lighter. Anne started cooking again what she liked, with Jamie pitching in. The laughter came back.
One night, lying on the sofa, Jamie spoke up.
Anne, when the babys here, Mum will surely want to visit.
I suppose she will.
You object?
Anne was quiet, then turned to him.
Let her visit. A visit a day. But shes not staying overnight, ever again. Thats my line.
Agreed.
And I wont leave her alone with our child. Not at first. Maybe later, when trust is rebuilt. For now, no.
Thats fair. Totally.
Jamie, I dont want to be harsh or fight. But I wont let our life fall apart again. I dont want our child raised in tension.
Therell be boundaries. Clear ones. Mum will have to respect them, or thats that. Our peace comes first.
Anne nestled in close, closing her eyes. Rain pattered beyond the windows, but inside was warm and calm.
Do you think well manage? All of it the baby, us, your mum?
Well make it, Anne. Because were together. And we know now what we cant let happen again.
Anne nodded. Fear curled within, but she felt strong stronger than ever before. Shed finally found the courage to say no. To defend her home, her life, her right to be herself.
Jamie, she put a hand on her stomach, where their baby was growing. Promise me if things get hard again, youll listen. Not pretend its all okay.
I promise. Ill always listen.
