Dear Diary,
I cant believe Im actually signing the paperwork for a plot of landsomething that never featured in my plans. When Tom slipped the idea into the conversation, I stared at him, bewildered. Again? I asked. We just visited your mum a few weeks ago to help her out. I dont want any more of this. Cant we have a quiet weekend, just the two of us?
Toms eyes were steady. Charlotte, you know how hard its been for Margaret lately. Dads gone, and she cant manage everything on her own. Im the only son, so I have to look after her.
Fine. Then why is your mother coming over this time? I pressed.
She needs creamcoloured wallpaper and a few other bits of material, he replied.
Cant she order them herself? I asked, hoping for a simple solution.
She doesnt know how to order online. Well all go together at the weekend, take a walk, get her out of the house for a bit.
Strolling through a DIY superstore as entertainment? I snapped, feeling a sting of irritation. Yet I didnt want to ruin the weekend, so I placed the order myself, chose everything, and paid for it. All that was left for Margaret was to receive the suppliesno need for her to come to our flat in London.
The delivery was scheduled for Friday night, so I figured there would be no hiccups. My confidence was shattered on Saturday morning when Margaret arrived, lugging bags of purchases.
You wanted me to carry all that weight. Why? she demanded, glaring at Tom.
Im sorry, Margaret, it was meant as a surprise, Tom said, still in his pajamas, trying to smooth things over.
The old woman measured me with a disdainful stare, then turned to Tom. Why are you so quiet? Got something to say to your wife about our surprise?
What surprise? I asked, finally catching that something was being hidden.
Im moving in with you for a few months, Margaret announced, shedding her coat.
Before I could process that, she added, And youre coming over, too.
I grabbed Toms hand, whispering in frustration, Whats going on? We never discussed any of this.
Its okay, love. Mother suggested it. We wont move right away, he shrugged, as if nothing had changed, and headed back to his mother.
I retreated to the bedroom, hesitant to start an outright clash with my motherinlaw. By evening the picture cleared a bit; Tom finally explained.
Charlotte, you have the chance to think this through. Well renovate the house the way you want. Itll be a great addition to your portfolioyour clients will love it. While were at it, well stay there. Moms not old enough to inhale construction dust, but well need someone to supervise the workers.
So I have to manage the refurbishment? I asked, more bewildered than ever.
Yes. You need work, and were looking out for you.
The idea of being shuttled off to a country cottage for months terrifies me. I love our flat, I protested.
We wont go now. The cream wallpaper you ordered is arriving. Well do the work in a single room, enough for Margaret to feel at home.
How will she avoid the dust?
Well keep a window open; she wont even notice. Shell just keep an eye on things.
Honestly, we cant dictate terms to her. The flat belongs to her, and the house, on paper, is mine.
Only because you never claimed your inheritance, she retorted.
Dont meddle in our family affairs. Weve agreedafter mum, Im the sole heir. Everything will eventually be ours, Tom said, trying to reassure me.
Had the flat been in your name, your mother wouldnt have thrown us out for months. Now, because of your naiveté, were stuck in the village! Margaret shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway.
Just then, the bedroom door burst open. Margaret, still fuming, added, You should have kept quiet. You never had a heart when your son chose you.
Chosen me? I echoed, bewildered by the phrasing.
Of coursewithout him Id be lost. And now youre eyeing the inheritance?
I think its fair. Youve shortchanged our son, I replied, feeling a surge of courage.
Seeking justice? Margaret glanced sharply at Tom. And why are you so silent? Do you agree with her?
Tom stayed mute, unwilling to pick sides.
I do, I said firmly. It seems youve taken everything from our son. If you ever get married
Myself? Marriage? Margaret laughed, then softened. Fine, youll renovate the house, and Ill transfer the flat to our son. Satisfied? Just make sure the house ends up in my name.
I felt a small relief, though Tom looked uneasy about the clash with his mother. Later, as we drove home, he muttered, Its still awkward with Mum.
We completed the oneroom renovation quickly, and within a week we were packing for the countryside. Margaret arrived with all her belongings, declaring, Shes coming with all her heart, and were taking whats ours. I tried to imagine us owning a threebedroom flat, a dream that suddenly seemed within reach.
The house in the village was not welcomingdull colours, a massive amount of work, and a price tag that made my head spin.
Nothing, well take out a loan, Tom reasoned, and in the end well have a flat.
I agreed, throwing myself into the work despite the nervousness of living in a house without the comforts I was used to. The project stretched on, but I grew to love the process and the building itself. I even decided a garden was essentiala small plot with flowers.
Soon I was proudly telling Tom each evening about what wed achieved. Well plant roses; Ive already ordered them, I said.
Charlotte, thats beyond our budget. We cant afford it. Mum will move in and plant them herself, Tom warned.
Something inside me stirred, and I poured my heart into the idea. Tom, maybe we should stay here? I love it. The house is already yours; we wont need to reregister anything.
Dont you want the flat? Tom asked.
Its cramped, stifling. Here theres space, I replied. Ill talk to Mum.
I felt a rare happiness; I was juggling the home, the garden, and the plot of land. Life seemed to settleuntil Margaret turned up unannounced.
Good morning, Margaret, I greeted, ready to show her the renovation, but something about Toms mothers reaction made her uneasy.
What do you expect when I come home? Youve delayed the work, and Im here to see whats happening, she snapped.
Home? Oh, Tom didnt get a chance to tell you yetwere staying, she continued, misinterpreting the situation.
Where? Im coming home, you can go back to the flat if you dont like it, Tom tried to explain.
You misunderstand. Were staying in the house. It belongs to Tom, and theres no need to transfer anything, Margaret replied, eyes flashing.
She flared, Youre taking my home, you selfish thing! I came to help, and youre trying to push me out?
Ill stay here! Tom is on my side. Pack your things, she commanded.
I was stunned. I never imagined my motherinlaw would enjoy living in the house. Shed always praised our flat, saying how fortunate we were to be in civilization while she was far from society.
Tom and I sat in silence for an hour, each lost in our own thoughts, both hoping the other would take a stand. Finally Tom spoke, his mood downcast.
My firm went bust; Im out of work. Well have to stay here, Charlotte. The garden can help us save a few pounds, he said, eyes down.
Margaret looked at him, silent. Inside, I felt a strange triumph; I didnt have to force Tom into a decisionhed already chosen.
My doubts lingered, though; Tom often sided with his mother. I turned to him, Mum, Im sorry, but itll really be easier for us here. Well pay back the loans and get back on our feet.
Life in the village is slower, no fancy shops, just the essentials. Margaret agreed to Toms plan, backing him up wholeheartedly. She left, and Tom beamed at me.
Are we actors now? I teased.
What do you mean?
I know Mum wanted to return home, but she saw how much you liked this place. I guessed she wouldnt object, I said, smiling.
I hugged Tom, grateful that the property dispute had finally settled. The house, the garden, the ploteverything felt like my own. I fell asleep dreaming of the day our threebedroom flat would finally belong to us.
