Diary entry
Sometimes, I think the hardest thing about marriage isnt managing bills or who does the washing-up, but defending your own patch of peace. Today was one of those days.
It all started, of course, with Barbara. Shes Davids mother, and from the second she arrived, she had that tone. You know the onehalf question, half command. So, Alice, when shall I have my own set of keys, then? The way she said it, as though Id simply let it slip my mind, made me bristle. I was polishing glasses, the tea still warm and the aroma of Victoria sponge just settling in the air. David, my husband, seemed suddenly fixated on the pattern of the tablecloth, positively allergic to eye contact.
Im sorry, Barbara, Im not quite sure I understand, I said, keeping my voice gentle as I returned a glass to the cupboard. Why exactly would you need a spare key?
Barbara dabbed her mouth primly and looked at me as if explaining to a daft child why you shouldnt poke your fingers into electric sockets.
Well, really, Alice! Were family. Anything could happen, you never know. You might be at work and the water pipes could burst! OrGod forbida fire! I live closest, after all. And besides, perhaps Ill want to pop over during the day to make a bit of soup or give everything a dust. You both work so late, constantly tired, always hungry. Think of it: your mum comes, helps out, and leaves before youre home. Much easier for you.
I could feel the irritation simmering. I knew that look and that voice. In the two years since marrying David, Id got used to Barbaras ways. Personal boundaries were a one-way street for hersacred, unless they were someone elses, especially her sons.
Thank you for thinking of us, Barbara, I said, trying to remain calm. But the pipes are new, we have smoke alarms, and we quite like our routine at home. We dont need any help just yet.
Just yet! she huffed, wounded. You are proud, Alice. Thatll get you in trouble, you know. I only come from a place of love. Ive got keys to my sisters house and to my nephews flat in Surrey! No one complains, everyones happy. David, will you just talk some sense into hershes making me feel like an outsider.
David finally looked up, misery written all over his face. Stuck between us, as usual. Wife on one side, indomitable mother on the other.
Alice, maybe shes right? he ventured. Its only for emergencies. Mums not moving in, its just, you know, just in case.
I shot him a long lookreminding him with my eyes that this was my home, not his mothers playground, and warning him of the consequences of forgetting that fact.
He knew very well. Id bought the flat three years before Id even met Davidscrimped, saved, worked late nights, and paid the mortgage off early, all before we got married. Hed moved in with me, and Id never once made him feel like a guest, but suddenly that fact felt important again.
David, I said, steady but firm, Weve already discussed this. We have a spare and its with your sistershe lives half an hour away and would never turn up unannounced. Thats more than enough for emergencies.
With Emma? Barbara exclaimed. Shell lose them in a week! And anyway, why should your sister have a key and not your own mother? Thats not fair! I did raise you, you know!
Its not about trust, Barbara, I said, sitting across from her. Its about personal space. My home is my sanctuary. I like to come home knowing no ones been here moving things around, cleaning in their own way, or watering the plants just so. Thats my comfort zone. Please respect that.
Barbara pursed her lips, face blotchy with indignation. She shoved her cake plate away.
I see how it is. Comfort before family. Well. Just rememberdont come running to me for help, when things go wrongMum, help me, Mum, save us! Youll have to do everything yourselves.
She left soon after, making a show of struggling with her coat and sighing dramatically. David, see me to the taxi, would you? My blood pressure is dreadfulI might keel over, you never know.
I slumped against the wall the moment the door clicked shut behind them, knowing full well this was far from the end. Barbara wasnt one to back down so easilyher favourite motto might as well be slow and steady wins the war.
The following weeks passed in a tense truce, punctuated only by Barbaras daily calls to David. Shed grill him about what wed had for dinner, whether I was ignoring her calls (usually I was stuck in meetings), and whether we needed a jar of her homemade pickled onions.
I started refusing the onions, knowing each jar was just another excuse to try slipping inside our flat. Alice, you wont pick them up yourselves, youre always busy! Let me bring them myselfIll just drop them in your fridge. Oh, I suppose I havent got a key, have I? Fancy me, waiting outside like a charity case
Well pop round this weekend, Barbara, thank you, Id say, relentlessly.
But then something odd happened. I came home early from work one afternoon, a meeting cancelled at the last minute. The lock felt stiff when I turned my key, as if someone had just fiddled with it. Inside, there was a faint, familiar smell: Barbaras perfume, lavender and rose, unmistakable.
Everything looked perfectly normal, but the sense of intrusion lingered. A towel had been moved in the bathroom. The coffee jar stood left of the kettle instead of right. I felt suddenly, irrationally furious.
When David got home, I confronted him.
Was your mum here today?
He bent to untie his shoes and didnt look up. She called. Said she felt faint and was nearby. I let her in for a glass of water and a rest while I dashed back to work. She let herself out, popped the key through the letterbox like we agreed. Don’t start, Alice, she was unwell.
Was she here alone?
He nodded. What else could I do? Shes my mum.
I headed for the bedroom. My underwear drawer looked suspiciously tidy, every stack squared up military-style. I never stacked things that neatly.
She went through my things, I stated, coming back to the hall.
Dont be silly! David protested. Maybe she just tried to help you tidy.
I dont want her tidying my underwear! Thats crossing a line! She pretended to be unwell, just so youd let her inside. You let her in, knowing exactly how I feel.
Shes my mum! he shouted. Shall I call the police if she wants a glass of water? Youre making a mountain out of a molehill, Alice.
We argued for days, barely speaking. Barbara phoned daily, fanning the flames with sob stories about her ailments and our supposed modern-day heartlessness.
But the real showdown came a month later.
It was a Tuesday. Id left work early to prepare a presentation. Head pounding, I longed only for darkness and quiet. As I neared the flat, voices wafted outclinking crockery, laughter, Barbaras unmistakable squawk.
Hands shaking, I tried my key. It jammed. Someones key was in the door from the inside. I rang the bell.
Silence, then hurried movement. Who is it? Barbara called out.
Its Alice. Open the door, please.
Barbara stood there, wearing my apron. The flat stank of fried fishmy most hated smell, the one that made me gag. In the kitchen sat a large stranger, happily demolishing fried fish from my best china, the set I reserved for special occasions.
Hello, the woman managed, mouth full.
I turned to Barbara, something icy settling in me.
Barbara, I said, quietly, Where did you get a key?
She fiddled with her hair. Well David made me a copy, after I wasnt well, remember? Said it was only for emergencies. Its come in handy! I cooked dinner for youyou must be shattered, and look, your dads old friend Val popped over, too!
Out, I said, dangerously calm.
What? Barbara blinked.
You both need to leave. Get out of my flat. Now.
Barbara went crimson. How dare you speak to your mother-in-law like that? I went to all this trouble for you! Stood in the kitchen for ages
I didnt ask you. This is my home. I told you before, do not come here uninvited. Do not use that key. You tricked David into giving you one, and now youre having tea parties in my living room. Gather your things. You have two minutes.
Im not budging! Barbara shrieked. Ill wait for David, see what he thinks of your attitude!
Fine, I said, producing my phone, Ill ring the police. Its trespassingmy flat, my legal right. You have no permission to be here.
I began pressing buttons. Val, the guest, took the hint, grabbed her bag, and scuttled out.
Barbara, I suggest you follow her.
I actually would have called the police, too. Seeing my resolve, Barbara hurled my apron to the floor and hissed, Youll regret this! Vile woman!
She left, leaving behind only a messcheap fish stench, dirty crockery, and a lingering sense of disgust. I bolted the door, shaking.
I threw open the kitchen window, binned the plates and cups theyd usedI couldnt even bear to wash them. Then I sat in silence until David came home.
He saw the look on my face, the empty flat, the spare key glinting accusingly on the coffee table. He slumped into an armchair, head in hands.
Im sorry. She wore me down. She rang every day, begged for a key, said she was afraid of dying alone, only wanted it for peace of mind. I caved. I thought shed forget she had it. I had no idea shed actually come over while you were out
You betrayed me, David. You chose her comfort over my peace. You knew how I felt and still handed over a key to my home.
Im so sorry, Alice. Ill change the locks. Ill speak to her. I promise.
Ive already arranged for a locksmith, I told him, but its not just about locks. Its about trust. If you let her do this again, I cant stay, David. I will not live in a flat under siege.
He burst into tears. I stayed strong, because being gentle wasnt what I needed now.
He did talk to her. Barbara responded with epic drama, telling all the relations Id thrown her out onto the pavement in mid-September and that David was a spineless traitor. David ached with guilt. There were weeks of sulking, then something odd: relief. The flat was peaceful. No unsolicited criticism about shirts or calls in the middle of dinner. I loosened up, began to smile again.
Half a year passed. Time softened things. Barbara, realising her manipulations were getting her nowhere and loneliness was worse, finally reached out. A stiff Happy Birthday call to David.
If David wanted to visit, I never stopped him. I didnt stop him helping with food or little bits of money, either. But as for our flatno visit, no keys, and that would never change.
Come December, David said, Should we have Mum here for Christmas? Shell be by herself.
I looked at him, seeing hope flicker. We can visit on New Years Day, I suggested, bring something nice, stay for a few hoursbut Christmas Eve and Day are ours, here, just us.
He agreed, lesson learnt.
When we visited Barbara after New Year, she was courteous but distant. No more boundary-pushing. I could see she was still hurt, but her fear of losing David had finally checked her more overbearing ways.
On the way out, she eyed us in the hallway. Not planning on redecorating? That wallpapers a bit gloomy, isnt it?
I smiled. We like it very much, Barbara.
David squeezed my hand as we walked away, the only set of keys resting safe in my pocket. Id finally secured the invisible walls that made our life together truly ours. And that, I decided, was the only way our little fortress of happiness could ever survive.
