Mum, dont come! Hes thrown us out!
Natalies voice was barely a whisper, but behind her, Sophies sobbing echoed far louder than any words. Ann Parsons stopped short by her battered Vauxhall, clutching the box of presents so tightly her knuckles ached in the December chill.
Thrown you outwhere?
He made us leave the house. Said to go before his family turns up. Brenda insisted. Were sitting in a café on the riverside, Mum, I dont know what to do.
Nine oclock in the evening. The thirty-first of December. Frost cutting through the air in crystal shards, biting at exposed skin.
Wait there, Ill be right over.
Ann Parsons spun and marched back to the road. Forty years in the Borough accounts office had taught her not to show a flicker of feeling, but now her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the box.
The door was opened by Simon flush-faced, grinning broadly, half a glass of fizz in hand. The flattened funk of fried sausages and stale wine drifted from the sitting room, already thick with voices. At the table sat half a dozen adults, Brenda straight-backed in mock majesty at the head.
Oh, Ann! Come in, dont dally on the stoop!
Ann crossed the threshold, scanning the room. Salads and pork pies lay artfully on platters, glasses foamed over, laughter clattered off the walls. But there was no daughter. No grandchildren.
Wheres Natalie?
Oh, I kicked her and the children out Brenda cant stand the sight of them. Simon flung out a careless hand and grinned wider. Let her cool down at yours for a bit.
He said it loudly, almost boasting. A snigger rose from someone at the table. Brenda nodded without lifting her eyes from the ham.
Quite right. Shouldve sorted her ages ago. Let herself go, that one.
Ann placed the present box at her feet, slowly undid her boots, and stood tall. Nobody turned forks clinked and talk carried on. She strode to Brenda, spun her round by the shoulder, and slapped her hard across the cheek.
The sound was a gunshot in the flat.
Brenda toppled from her chair, upending a bowl of trifle in her descent. Simon leapt up, but Ann was already on him, her palm colliding with his face before he could utter a word.
He hunched forward, clutching the table, and with a scrape and crash, coleslaw and Prosecco sluiced across the carpet.
Ann grabbed Brenda by the collar and bodily dragged her to the door. Brenda shrieked like a banshee, but Anns grip was iron. She shoved her onto the landing. Simon tumbled after, yelping all the way.
Ann faced the gaping guests all frozen mid-bite, eyes wide.
Get out of my flat. Now.
No one argued.
Later, she picked up her daughter and grandchildren from Paddington station. She brought them home to her silent flat. Natalie just stared at the wreckage left behind the overturned table, the mess, the stains on the walls and said nothing.
Mum, what happens now?
Nothing. Youll live in peace.
Ann produced the box of presents. Jack and Sophie tore through wrapping paper right on the kitchen floor, laughter suddenly bubbling up for the first time that evening.
At midnight, they welcomed the New Year in the kitchen, just the four of them. Natalie wept softly, brushing away tears with the heel of her hand. The children lit sparklers from the Christmas pudding and made wishes in the glow.
Later, while shadows pooled in every corner, Simon rang Anns mobile. His voice trembled, hard and shrill.
Do you know what youve done? Mums got concussion! Ill sue youll pay for this!
Ann switched the phone to speaker. Natalie froze, teacup gripped between pale fingers.
Sue away. Ill counterclaim you threw your wife and small children out onto the street on New Years Eve. Social Services will be fascinated. Your neighbours, too theyll tell all about how your mothers made Natalies life hell for three years!
What neighbours? Whod believe you, old bat
The ones who heard Brenda screaming at Natalie. The ones who saw her taking your keys into the house when Natalie was out.
There are cameras in the hallway, Simon. Got you on tape, chucking them out with their bags. And, incidentally, the flats in her name. So go on, then. Try me.
His outrage fizzled to silence, then the line went dead.
The solicitor listened quietly, took notes, then fixed Natalie with an even gaze.
Would you like a divorce?
Natalies fists clenched white. She said nothing. Ann placed a gentle palm on her shoulder.
Natalie. He threw you and the kids out on New Years Eve. Do you really think itll ever be different?
Natalie lifted her head, eyes dark with exhaustion, not hope or fear.
Yes, she said. I want a divorce.
The solicitor nodded, produced forms.
Simon tried to claim assault. He turned up in court with Brenda, displaying a dramatic bruise, but the doctor testified it was fresh painted on after the holidays.
The guests Ann had driven out suddenly developed amnesia. But the neighbours told all: rows in the hallway, Brendas raging, children crying in the stairwell, the mother-in-law letting herself in unasked.
When the judge delivered the decree, Natalie slipped out without looking back.
She didnt need to search for a new home, unlike her ex. Her flat had belonged to her a gift from her parents long before the marriage.
Ann Parsons, widowed a year before, no longer clung to the past. She sold her own old place and moved into the block next to her daughter just to be close.
The children took time to settle. Jack grew silent, Sophie tetchy. But soon enough, they would turn up at Anns place each evening, where she read them stories and conjured games, never asking questions, never prying.
One night, Natalie joined her by the window, looking out at Londons misty shadows.
Mum, do you ever regret it? Getting involved the way you slapped them?
Ann turned, her face certain, calm.
Forty years I sorted out other peoples squabbles on paper, civil, polite, by the book. Then I saw my daughter and grandchildren turfed into the freezing street and realised, some things words cant fix.
She paused.
Only regret is not doing it sooner.
Natalie hugged her tight, as she had as a child.
The next New Years Eve came. Ann, Natalie, Jack, and Sophie gathered around a small table few gifts, simple food. But when the sparklers were lit, Sophie giggled, Jack wrapped his arms around his grandmother, and Natalie, for the first time in forever, smiled without a trace of fear that anybody would crash through the door and snatch it all away.
It was the best New Years Eve of her grown-up life.
