The bell rang persistently, somewhere between annoying and urgent. I wiped my hands, took off my apron, and went to answer the door. There, on the threshold, was my daughter with a young man in tow. I let them in.
Hello, Mum, my daughter said, kissing me on the cheek. Meet Harry, hell be staying with us.
Good evening, the lad greeted politely.
And this is my mum, Aunt May.
Its just May, I corrected her.
Mum, whats for dinner? she asked.
Pea mash and sausages, I replied.
I don’t eat pea mash, the young man said, slipping off his shoes and strolling straight into the sitting room.
Well, Mum, Harry doesnt eat peas, my daughter exclaimed, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Harry settled onto the sofa, dropping his rucksack onto the floor.
That happens to be my spot, I pointed out.
Come on, Harry, Ill show you where well live, Sarah called.
I like it here, though, he muttered but got up all the same.
Mum, could you sort something for Harry to eat? Sarah pleaded.
Im not suretheres half a pack of sausages left, I shrugged.
Theyll do, with mustard, ketchup, and a bit of toast, Harry declared.
Fine, I sighed, heading for the kitchen. She used to drag home stray kittens and puppies, and nowthis and Im supposed to feed him, too.
I helped myself to some pea mash, put two sausages on my plate, grabbed a bowl of salad and settled down to enjoy my dinner.
Mum, are you eating all on your own? Sarah entered the kitchen.
Yes, Ive just come home from work and Im hungry, I said, biting into a sausage. If someones hungry, they can sort it or cook. And I want a word with you, by the way. Why is Harry moving in?
Why? Because hes my husband.
I nearly choked.
Husband?
Yes. Your daughters grown up and can decide whether to get married. Im already nineteen.
No one invited me to the wedding
There wasnt one. We just went to the register office, thats all. And since were husband and wife, were living together, Sarah said, eyeing me as I chewed.
Well, congratulations, I suppose. Couldnt you have had a wedding?
If youve got money for a wedding, feel free to give it to us; wed know where to spend it better.
I see, I sighed, taking another bite. But why do you want to live here, exactly?
Because his family all share one roomfour people. Its tiny.
Havent you thought of renting?
Why bother when Ive still got my room here? Sarah replied in astonishment.
Right.
So, can we have something to eat?
Sarah, theres a pot of mash on the cooker, sausages in the pan, and half a pack left in the fridge. Help yourselves.
Mum, you dont understandyouve got a SON-IN-LAW now, Sarah announced the last bit with dramatic emphasis.
So? Am I supposed to break out into a Morris dance or something? Sarah, Ive just come home from work; Im tired and Im not in the mood for rituals. You two can manage for yourselves.
Thats why youre still single! snapped Sarah.
With a glare, she stomped off to her room and slammed the door. After eating, I washed my plate, wiped down the table, and headed off to the leisure centre. I was a free woman, and a couple of evenings a week, I enjoyed the gym and a swim.
Around ten I returned, anticipating a nice cup of tea. Instead, the kitchen was a bomb sitesomeone had clearly tried to cook. The lid for the mash was missing so it had gone dry and cracked. The sausage packaging had been abandoned on the table alongside a crusty, half-eaten bit of bread. The pan was burnt, its non-stick scratched beyond salvation. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes, and a puddle of sticky pop was slowly spreading on the floor. The flat reeked of cigarette smoke.
Well, thats a new one. Sarah would never have let that happen.
I opened Sarahs door. There they were, drinking wine and puffing away.
Sarah, go sort out the kitchen. And tomorrow, you can buy me a new frying pan, I said, then headed straight to my room, leaving her door wide open.
She was after me in seconds.
Why should we have to clean up? And where am I supposed to get the money for a pan? I dont work; Im studying now. Why are you so bothered about a pan?
Sarah, you know the rules: if you eat, you tidy; if you break something, you replace it. Everyones responsible for themselves. And yes, I am bothered about the panit cost money and its ruined.
You just dont want us living here! she shouted.
No, I replied, perfectly calmly.
I really didnt want an argument, but for once, I said it.
But its partly mine, after all!
No, its not. The flat is entirely mine. I worked for it. Youre just registered here. My problems arent yours to fix at my expense. If you want to stay, follow the rules, I said, still calm.
Ive lived by your rules all my life. Im married nowyou cant tell me what to do! Sarah wailed, tears streaming down her face. And anyway, surely you should hand the flat over to us now youve had your turn at life.
Youre welcome to the entire corridor, and the bench outside. Oh, my sweet girl, youre married? Fine by me. You sleep here alone, or with your husbandsomewhere else. He isnt living here, I replied sternly.
Choke on your flat, then! Harry, were leaving! Sarah screamed, furiously gathering up her things.
Five minutes later, my new so-called son-in-law barged into my room.
Listen, Missus, chill out, yeah? Were not going anywhere. Be nice to us, and well even make sure to keep it down at night, he slurred, tipsy on cheap red wine.
What sort of parents are we? I shot back. Your parents are at homewhy dont you toddle back to them? Take your blushing bride, too!
He raised his fist at me. Yeah, well, Ill
Oh, will you now?
I caught his fist in my manicured grip.
Ow! Let go, you nutter! he yelped.
Mum, what are you doing? Sarah shrieked, trying to pull me away from her precious Harry.
I shoved her aside and kneed Harry squarely in the groin, followed by a swift jab to the neck.
Im pressing charges for assault! he spat. Ill take you to court!
Hang on, let me ring the policeitll be easier to write it all up, I replied.
They scarpered, abandoning a perfectly good two-bedroom flat.
Youre not my mother anymore! Sarah screamed from the hallway. And youll never see your grandchildren!
Oh, the heartbreak, I muttered under my breath, finally enjoying the peace.
I looked down at my handsa few nails snapped clean off.
All this damage for your sake, I mumbled.
Once theyd gone, I cleaned up the kitchen, trashed the hardened mash and that hopeless pan, and got the locks changed. Three months later, Sarah was waiting for me after work. She looked gaunt, with dark circles under her eyesa shadow of herself.
Mum, whats for dinner? she asked quietly.
I dont know, I shrugged. Havent decided yet. What do you fancy?
Chicken and rice, she swallowed. And salad.
Then lets go hunt for some chicken, I answered. And you can make the salad yourself.
I didnt ask questions about Harryand, truth be told, he never resurfaced in our lives.
One thing Ive learned: boundaries matter, and peace, in the end, is worth every argument.
Who Will Live With Us Now…?
The doorbell rang insistently, signaling that someone had arrived. Linda slipped off her apron, wiped her hands, and went to answer. On the doorstep stood her daughter with a young man. She invited them into the flat.
“Hi, Mum,” her daughter kissed her on the cheek, “Meet Victor—he’ll be living with us.”
“Hello,” the young man greeted her.
“And this is my mum, Aunt Linda.”
“Just Linda,” she corrected her daughter.
“Mum, what’s for dinner?”
“Pea mash and sausages.”
“I don’t eat peas,” the young man replied, shrugging and heading directly into the lounge.
“Well, Mum, Victor doesn’t eat peas,” her daughter said, eyes wide.
Victor plopped himself down on the sofa, dropping his rucksack on the floor.
“This is actually my room,” Linda said.
“Victor, come on, I’ll show you where we’ll be living,” called Lucy.
“But I quite like it here,” Victor muttered, getting up from the sofa.
“Mum, can you think of something else for Victor to eat?”
“I’m not sure, there’s still half a pack of sausages left,” Linda shrugged.
“They’ll do with mustard, ketchup and some bread,” he replied.
“All right,” Linda relented, heading into the kitchen. “First she used to drag home stray cats and dogs, and now… she’s brought home this one, and I’m supposed to feed him too.”
She served herself some pea mash, added two sausages to her plate, reached for the salad and began eating her dinner in peace.
“Mum, why are you eating alone?” her daughter entered the kitchen.
“Because I’ve just come home from work and I’m hungry,” Linda replied, chewing on a sausage. “Whoever wants to eat can help themselves or cook. And I’ve got one more question for you. Why is Victor living with us?”
“Because he’s my husband.”
Linda nearly choked.
“Husband?”
“Yes. I’m an adult, I make my own choices. I’m nineteen.”
“You didn’t even invite me to the wedding.”
“There was no wedding, we just signed the register. Since we’re husband and wife now, we’re living together,” Lucy replied, glancing at her mother.
“Congratulations, I suppose. Why no wedding then?”
“If you’ve got money for a wedding, give it to us—we’ll find a use for it.”
“Understood,” Linda continued with her meal. “And why here, specifically?”
“Because they’re living four to a one-bed flat.”
“Did you not think of renting somewhere?”
“Why rent, when I have my old room?” Lucy looked genuinely surprised.
“I see.”
“So, will you get us something to eat?”
“Lucy, there’s a pot of mash on the stove, sausages in the pan. If that’s not enough, there’s half a packet left in the fridge. Help yourselves.”
“Mum, you don’t get it, you have a SON-IN-LAW now,” Lucy emphasised the last word.
“And what, am I supposed to dance a jig to celebrate? Lucy, I’ve just got home from work and I’m exhausted—let’s skip the ritual dances. You both have arms and legs, you can look after yourselves.”
“That’s why you’ve never married!”
Lucy shot her mother an angry glance and stormed off to her room, slamming the door. Linda finished her meal, washed her dishes, wiped the table and went off to her fitness class. She was a free woman, and several evenings a week she spent at the gym and swimming pool.
Around ten, she came home. Expecting a hot cup of tea, instead she found the kitchen an absolute tip—someone had evidently tried to cook. The lid was missing from the mash, so it had dried out and cracked. The sausage packet lay on the table, next to a crusty heel of bread without its wrapper. The frying pan was burnt, its nonstick surface scratched beyond recognition. The sink overflowed with dishes, and a puddle of sweet drink glistened on the floor. The flat reeked of cigarettes.
“Well, that’s new. Lucy would never let this happen.”
Linda opened her daughter’s door. The young couple were drinking wine and smoking.
“Lucy, go clean up the kitchen. Tomorrow, buy a new frying pan,” her mother said and went to her own room, leaving the door open.
Lucy leapt up and hurried after her.
“Why should we clean up? And where am I supposed to get money for a new pan? I’m not working, I’m studying. Are you that precious about your pans?”
“Lucy, you know the house rules: You eat—you tidy. You break—you replace. Everyone’s responsible for themselves. And yes, I am precious about that pan. It cost money and now it’s ruined.”
“You don’t want us living here!” Lucy exploded.
“No,” Linda replied calmly.
She was too tired to argue, and she realised she’d never felt like this before.
“But part of this flat is mine.”
“No, the flat is mine, entirely. I worked for it. You’re just registered here. Don’t expect to solve your problems at my expense. If you want to stay here, follow the rules,” Linda said steadily.
“I’ve lived my whole life by your rules. I’m married, you can’t tell me what to do anymore,” Lucy cried. “And since you’ve already lived your life, you should let us have the flat.”
“There’s a nice big space for you in the hallway or on the bench outside. Yes, darling, you’re married—you didn’t ask me. But whether you sleep here alone or with your husband, he’s not living here,” Linda stated firmly.
“Choke on your flat then! Victor, we’re leaving!” Lucy screamed, gathering her belongings.
Five minutes later, her new son-in-law burst into Linda’s room.
“Don’t get wound up, Mum. Everything’ll be fine,” he slurred—the wine was clearly taking effect. “We’re not going anywhere. And if you behave, we’ll even make love quietly at night.”
“Well, that really makes us parents, doesn’t it?” Linda said, offended. “You left your own parents at home—so go back there, and take your newly minted wife with you.”
“Oh yeah? I’ll…” Victor raised his fist to her face.
“Go ahead then,” Linda said, grasping his fist tightly with her manicured nails.
“Ow, let go, you’re mad!”
“Mum, what are you doing?” Lucy shrieked, trying to pull her mother away from her beloved.
Linda pushed her aside, then kneed Victor in the groin and jabbed his neck with her elbow.
“I’ll report you for assault!” the young man howled, “I’ll take you to court!”
“Hang on, I’ll call the police—make it official,” replied Linda.
The young couple fled from Linda’s well-kept two-bed flat.
“You’re no mother to me!” Lucy yelled at last, “And you’ll never see your grandchildren!”
“How I’ll cope,” Linda said, irony thick in her voice. “Finally, a bit of peace at home.”
She surveyed her hands—several nails broken.
“All that damage for them,” Linda muttered.
Once they’d gone, she cleaned the kitchen, threw away the solidified mash and ruined pan, and changed the locks. Three months later, on her way out from work, her daughter was waiting. She was gaunt, her eyes sunken, her whole aura miserable.
“Mum, what’s for dinner?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Linda shrugged, “I haven’t decided yet. What would you like?”
“Chicken and rice,” Lucy swallowed hard. “And salad.”
“Then let’s go find some chicken,” Linda replied. “You can make the salad yourself.”
She didn’t ask anything else about her daughter, and Victor never appeared in their lives again.
