Good afternoon, Margaret, called William as he appeared at the front door, breath misting in the grey daylight. For a few heartbeats, his mother-in-law simply stared at him with a puzzled frown before swinging open the door wide, letting in a cold May breeze.
Well, hello, Will. Come inside, hurry up, she said, ushering him in. But what brings you here alone in the middle of the day? Havent you got work today?
Thats right. Not working, replied William, slipping off his shoes and swapping them for a pair of tartan slippers. Ive taken the day off. Special occasion, you know.
Special occasion? Margaret repeated, her frown deepening. What are you on about?
Oh, something terribly important. He paused, peering about the hallway. Tell me, Margaret, are you quite happy with the way things are running in your flat?
What do you mean? she queried, suspicion flickering in her eyes.
I mean does everything work as it should?
Everything? What, the telly and the washing machine? Spit it out, Will.
I can. But better yet, Ill check for myself, he announced, striding straight to the loo.
Hang on a moment, Will! Margaret called after him, her voice wavering as he entered the bathroom and, apparently without reason, flushed the loo, staring intently at the swirling water. What on earth are you up to? And why now?
Dont fret, Margaret, its all for good reason, mumbled William, watching the flow with furrowed brow. I want my wife to always have perfectly comfortable living conditions.
Comfortable living conditions? Whats brought this on? Youre acting strange, Will.
Just normal home comforts, thats all. Lets take a look at the bathroom next. William flicked the light switch on and off, opened the next door and let the taps run. Steam curled up, fogging the mirror. Hmm, the pipes are happy enough You always have hot water from the tap? They dont cut it off much?
Not for ages, Margaret replied, now deeply wary of his odd behaviour. Can you just tell me why youre prying about?
I promise Ill explain when Ive finished my inspection. If anythings off, Ill fix it up.
And why ever would you do that?
Well, youve no husband now, have you? Since Dad passed, theres no one to help you.
Aha She suddenly gave a knowing grin. Has Emily been bending your ear again? Is this you being a helpful son-in-law? Well, dont you worry yourself, Will. Ive managed ten years without my John. I can fix a tap, and Ill put up a shelf if I need to.
William gave a sceptical grunt. That shelf you put up nearly knocked you out when it fell last week.
And how would you know that? Margaret glowered at him. Dont tell me Emilys been running her mouth.
For now, shes still my wifeshes entitled to tell me things. Cmon, lets give the kitchen a once-over, shall we?
He left the bathroom, poking at lights as he went, and led the way to the kitchen, Margaret trailing behind with an expression that was part amusement, part exasperation.
Go on, detectives, have at it, she said, folding her arms.
He went straight for the cooker, fiddling with the oven controls and firing up the hobs, his face illuminated by the flickering blue-orange flames.
Hmm. As I thought, he muttered, now dour. Theres something odd here. That flames not right, its burning the wrong shade. You ought to call in a proper chap.
What?! exclaimed Margaret, rushing over and peering into the oven. Dont be sillyeverythings fine.
For now, William warned. But that flame should be blue. That red tinge means its not burning right. Emilys always baking in here. She could get gassed, heaven forbid.
Margaret laughed incredulously. Oh, do stop it, Will. Emily hasnt touched that cooker since you two moved out. As soon as you got married, she gave up on it.
Oh, so you say, William replied, closing the oven door, now fussing with the kitchen tap. Well, shell need it again soon. Shell be spending more time round here again.
What do you mean, shell need it again soon? Margarets voice trembled.
Not my decision. Emily keeps talking about moving back in. Happens nearly every day.
Moving back? Here?! In my flat? Margaret paled.
Just so, said William. So I thought, as a loving, attentive husband, Id make sure your flats ready for her return. Right?
Have you lost your mind? barked Margaret.
I think its very noble, actually. If she wants to come home, well, thats her choice.
What nonsense is this! shrieked Margaret. What are you playing at?
What should I do then? he replied.
You could start by putting the bloody toilet seat down properly! Thatd stop her threatening to move out!
I always put it down now. But your daughter is creativeyesterday it was my ruining the cucumber shelf system in the fridge. I can never guess which shelf cucumbers are supposed to go on, can you? Where theres space, I say. By the way, will there be room in the fridge for her groceries? He swung the fridge open and peered inside. You dont keep your cucumbers in the right place either. Emilyll have your guts for that!
Stop it! Margaret snapped and slammed the fridge, nearly trapping his fingers. Enough. I was just starting to enjoy living on my own, breathing easynow this!
Not me, your daughter, William shrugged. Its not my fault if she gets sentimental about your flat.
Thats just it! Its my flat! Margaret wailed. And Im not letting heror anyone elsemove back in! You tell Emily that for me! Shes got her husband. Shes to live with you! Or better yet, Ill tell her myself.
Good plan, said William. Long overdue, that chat. But I still think you ought to call someone about that gas. Just in case.
Dont you dare! bellowed Margaret. Ill talk to Emily, and shell never mention this flat againmark my words!
But dont upset her too much, William fretted, feigning concern. Dont want her coming home nervous after talking to you.
Right, home you go, William, snapped Margaret, swatting at the air, as if he were a bothersome moth. Thats enough. Teach me to talk to my own daughter? She only turned out this spoilt because of you! Ill give her running awaysee how she likes it!
The hallway shivered as the front door boomed shut, and William found himself blinking against the pale English light, never quite sure if hed been awake, or sleepwalking through someone elses peculiar Sunday afternoon.
