Mother, I didnt sign up to be a servant, I whispered into the receiver as the morning call from my son crackled through.
Darling, weve got a problem. The landlady wants the flat cleared at once. Sort through my room, make as much space as you can. Well be there today, the whole family, Lydia heard, clutching the phone as the words sank in.
Good grief, she muttered. Ive read that in winter you cant just be evicted from a rented flat, especially without a formal tenancy agreement. They should at least give us time to find somewhere else. The surprise left her momentarily speechless.
It wont be a week, Mum, Alex snapped. Natalie had a row with the landlady yesterday, and shes now furious.
Ah, that explains it, Lydia replied dryly. Natalie needs to learn to keep her tongue in check and treat people with at least a modicum of respect.
Oh, dont start, Mum! Alex growled, his mood sour. I told youclean the room, well be home with the boxes this evening.
A brief, tinny buzz flickered through the line and Lydia sank onto the floor, bewildered. Yesterday at the office had been a nightmare: two new hires arrived, her boss demanded she give them a tour, she had to draft two reports for senior management, and a stack of other tasks piled up. By evening she didnt so much arrive home as crawl back into her tiny twobedroom flat.
The weekend had promised a modest escape. Saturday she wanted to linger in bed, then wander the park at dusk. Sunday she planned to meet a friend for a stroll through the market. And nowwhat? Her modest tworoom flat suddenly had to accommodate four people: herself, her son, his wife Natalie, and her sevenyearold grandson Oliver. Grand plans dissolved into dust. First she would have to purge Alexs former bedroom, shuffle a few belongings, then dash to the corner shop and somehow conjure a dinner before night fell.
Lydia felt no lack of love for Alex or Oliver. It was the relationship with Natalie that was, at best, strained. She always tried to be courteous, to spare her son any embarrassment, and to keep the periodic flareups that seemed to haunt the family at bay.
Despite the shattered plans and sour mood, Lydia set to the cleaning. She then shuffled to the shop, bought the necessities, and cooked a modest supper.
When evening draped over the flat, everything was ready. Alex arrived with his family, the rooms filled with clatter and a strange, almost cheerful din. Lydia slipped away to her own room early. Alex and Natalie lingered at the table while Oliver stared at a cartoon on the screen.
Good night, then. Youll clear the table yourselves, right, Nat? Lydia said, drifting from the kitchen.
Sure, Natalie murmured, eyes glued to her phone.
In the halfsleep she heard laughter and footfalls, but chose to ignore them. She convinced herself the visit was brief; they would need a place to crash, after all. The trouble, she thought, was Natalies own doing, stirring discord with every word. Lydia had repeatedly urged her to negotiate and show respect, but Natalie either brushed her off or launched into yet another theatrical quarrel.
The alarm jolted her awake the next morning. She shuffled to the kitchen and froze. Cups of halfdrunk tea sat untouched, a mountain of candy wrappers lay scattered, and apple cores formed a small hill on the counter. The sink waited, brimming with a tower of unwashed dishes.
Mum, whats for breakfast? Alex trudged in, still halfasleep, as Lydia fumbled to tidy the remnants of last nights feast.
Make yourself a sandwich and a cuppa. Ill just have coffee, she replied.
Mom, Im stuck in traffic. One sandwich wont keep me fed, he groaned.
Then put the blame on your wife. Let her spend forty minutes in the bathroom and then cook you breakfast. I didnt sign up to be your maid, but Im late for work and have to wash your dishes. You didnt even tidy up yesterday, Lydia snapped, the words hanging heavy in the air.
At that moment Natalie appeared, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
So I knew it. Lydia Conway, its half past seven and youre already complaining, she drawled.
Im not complaining, Nat, Im just speaking to Alex. Could you perhaps make him breakfast? I cant be the one constantly washing dishes and cooking, Lydia replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
Sure, Natalie muttered, eyes back on her phone.
The next five days unfolded in a tense haze. Lydia held herself together as best she could, hoping Alex would sort the flat situation within the week so she could reclaim some normalcy on the weekends.
Friday evening brought no movement from the guests. Lydia imagined Alex had simply decided not to drag her into his mess. Saturday morning found Alex and Natalie sleeping like the dead. By lunchtime Alex emerged from his room, and Lydia sensed no move to relocate.
On Sunday she asked directly, Alex, have you found a place?
Weve been looking. Everythings either too pricey or too far. Well probably stay here another week, he said.
Fine, stay then, Lydia answered resignedly. She couldnt throw her son and his family out onto the street; she would just endure another week. Better than constant fighting.
But miracles never came. The family didnt move after one week, nor after two. Instead, they seemed to settle deeper into her flat, making no effort to search for a new rental.
Natalie, meanwhile, made no effort with housework. She dumped dirty plates in the sink and retreated to the sofa to sleep. She tossed laundry into a basket, leaving Lydia to wash, iron, cook, and clean all weekend.
Natalie, Im off to the shop. Could you please wash the floors? Lydia asked.
Im the lady of the house, isnt that right? Ill do something else later maybe tomorrow, Natalie replied, the flats grime unnoticed.
Nat, Im the lady of the house, but you live here too, Lydia pointed out.
What? My head hurts! Understand? Natalie shrieked.
This is outrageous! Lydia snapped.
Exactly! And you caused it! Natalie retorted flippantly.
Lydia stopped the argument, went to the shop herself, then swept the floors, brewed a cup of tea, and lay down for a brief rest.
A sudden, relentless thump roused her. Oliver was playing ball inside.
Oliver, you should be playing outside, not in the flat. Its evening, the neighbours are watching, Lydia warned.
But Grandma, I want to play now. Mum and Dad wont take me out, the boy replied, bouncing the ball off the floor.
Stop it, Lydia ordered.
Alex emerged from his room. Dad, tell Oliver to stop, she said.
Mom, he always plays inside Alex began, but Natalie cut in.
Exactly! Youve been nagging me all morning, now youre going after the child. What do you want, to throw us out? she shouted.
Natalie, if you wont follow my rules, perhaps you should find somewhere else to live, Lydia replied.
A heavy silence fell.
Thanks a lot! Youre kicking us out! By the way, Im pregnant and cant be stressed! Natalie wailed, retreating to her room.
Mom, shes really pregnant and youre still arguing, Alex began.
First, I didnt know. Second, Im not demanding miracles. I just want my own home, Lydia said.
That evening Natalie packed a bag and announced they would move to a nearby town to stay with her parents while Alex kept hunting for a flat.
Lydia watched the drama unfold, trying to halt Natalies departure, but the daughterinlaw was determined, theatrically sobbing, gathering her things, and refusing any compromise.
Three days later Alex finally secured a new flat and moved his family out. Lydia gave the old flat a thorough springclean, took a weeks holiday, and life slipped back into its ordinary rhythm, though a sour aftertaste lingered.
Communication with Alex grew so thin that Lydia learned about her new greatgranddaughter only through mutual acquaintances. It was awkward, the family rift still raw, but what could be done?
Lydia now lives for herself. Twice a year she visits a spa resort, sends a modest sum to her grandchildren on their birthdays, and receives birthday calls from Alexalways over the phone.
No spa or personal space can replace the warmth of a close family bond, yet one can only give happiness to others when one is unconditionally happy oneself. Thats Lydias belief, and she does not regret her choices. She remains ready to reconnect with her grandchildren whenever she wishes. Whether Natalie permits it is entirely up to her, and the conscience of each party will bear the weight of their actions.
