My mum will stay with us. Yours can go up to the cottage, decides James.
Hey, how about we go to the theatre on Saturday? Emma asks, stirring the soup on the stove. Theyve got a new production Liza said its brilliant.
James pulls his eyes away from the TV and looks at his wife.
Theatre? Im not sure Im up for that now. Ive been knackered all week.
Youre always exhausted, Emma sighs. We havent gone out together in six months.
All right, well see, James grumbles, turning his gaze back to the screen.
Emma tightens her lips. Its always the same well see, maybe later, someday. Fifteen years of marriage have taught her to expect these excuses, but getting used to them isnt the same as accepting them.
James, she calls, turning off the stove, we really need to talk.
What about? he asks without looking away from the football match.
My mum called today. Her cottage roof is leaking after the rain, she needs it repaired. I was thinking she could stay with us for a couple of weeks while the builders finish.
James frowns.
My mum called too. Shes about to start a renovation and wanted to move in with us as well.
Emma sits down at the table.
Well, let both of them stay. We have the space.
No, James shakes his head. Two mums under one roof is too much. Theyll end up stepping on each others toes.
They wont, Emma protests. They get along fine.
James gets up, walks to the kitchen, pours himself a glass of water, drinks, then turns back to Emma.
My mum will live with us. Yours, go up to the cottage, he says firmly.
Emma feels a chill inside.
So what does that mean? My mum will stay in a leaky cottage, and yours will be here?
Exactly, James shrugs. My mums almost sixtyfive, its hard for her to be out on a construction site. Yours is younger, shell manage.
My mum is sixtytwo! Emma snaps. Whats a threeyear difference?
There is a difference, James insists. Besides, my mum is ill and needs peace.
Emma pushes her chair back.
And mine? Shes got high blood pressure, a sore back!
Everyone has aches, James waves it off. Bottom line Ive decided. My mum arrives the day after tomorrow, and yours can stay at the cottage.
He turns back to the television. Emma stands in the kitchen, stunned at how he can make such a decision without even a discussion.
James, we havent finished talking.
Ive got nothing more to say, he flips channels. Its settled.
Its not settled! Emmas anger rises like a wave. This is my flat too! I live here, I have a say!
The lease is in my name, James says coldly. I call the shots.
Emma freezes. So because the lease is in his name, hes the boss and her opinion doesnt matter.
Wonderful, she mutters through clenched teeth. Just wonderful.
She retreats to the bedroom, shuts the door, sits on the bed and presses her face into her hands. Hurt and fury swell; she wants to scream, to cry, to smash dishes, but she simply sits in silence.
That evening they dont speak. Emma silently sets the table, James eats in silence and returns to the TV. When they later go to bed, each turns to the opposite wall.
In the morning James leaves for work without a goodbye. Emma phones her mother.
Sorry, Mum, but you cant come up here. James his mum also needs a place, there isnt enough room.
Its fine, love, replies Margaret calmly. Ill stay at the cottage, what can I do?
But the roof is leaking! tears swell in Emmas voice.
Its nothing. Ill tar the roof, put buckets down. Ill manage, Margaret says. Dont worry.
Emma hangs up and cries. Her mum will be stuck under a dripping roof, while Jamess mother settles into a warm flat. And James doesnt care; his mother is his priority.
An hour later James calls.
Mums arriving tonight. Get the guest room ready.
Okay, Emma replies briefly and hangs up.
She tidies the room, puts fresh linen on the bed, places a vase of flowers. She does it mechanically, without thinking.
That night Jamess mother, Anita Fletcher, a plump woman with a sour expression, arrives.
Hello, Emma, she kisses her daughterinlaw on the cheek. Oh, Im knackered from the journey! The driver was rude all the way.
Hello, Mrs Fletcher, Emma says, helping her out of the coat. Come in, the room is ready.
Sweetie! Anita swoops into Jamess arms. Ive missed you!
James smiles, hugs his mum, asks about the trip. Emma watches the scene, feeling the room close in on her.
At dinner Anita launches into a rant about the renovation.
Can you believe the builders want a hundred pounds for everything! Its robbery in broad daylight! I told them theyre out of line, look for someone else!
Mom, those are normal rates now, James remarks.
Normal? In my day you could buy a flat for that! Anita huffs. Now you have to pay an arm and a leg for any nonsense.
Emma eats her soup in silence while Anita continues to complain about prices, the government, the neighbours, the weather. James nods, showing sympathy.
Why are you so quiet, Emma? Anita asks suddenly. You look glum.
Just tired, Emma replies.
Just tired? Anita repeats. You sit at home all day and are still tired? I worked three jobs at your age and never complained!
Emma keeps quiet. Arguing with Anita seems pointless she will always dominate the conversation.
After dinner Anita retreats to her room, and Emma begins washing dishes. James comes over.
Whats wrong, love? he asks.
Im not angry, Emma says without turning. Im upset.
Because?
Because you never asked my opinion, she finally meets his gaze. You just decided, and thats it. My mum will be soaking in rain, and yours will be cosy here.
Dont exaggerate, James frowns. Your mum will manage.
What if it were the other way round? Emma wipes her hands on a towel. What if I said my mum should come, and yours stay at the renovation?
Thats different, James mutters.
How is it different?
Because my mum is older and sicker!
Its only three years! Emma snaps. Three years isnt a gap!
James waves his hand and walks away. Emma stays alone in the kitchen, finishes her cold tea, and wonders what if she just left? Pack a bag and go up to the cottage, leaving James with his precious mum.
But she pulls herself back. Where would she go? This is her home too.
The next morning Anita rises early and starts fussing in the kitchen. Emma wakes to the clatter of pots.
Good morning, she says, entering the kitchen.
Morning, Anita grumbles, rummaging through cupboards. Emma, wheres the sieve? I want to make porridge.
In the righthand cupboard, top shelf.
Anita pulls a dish out, looks around.
Blimey, what a mess! How do you find anything in here?
I do, Emma replies calmly.
It needs a complete rearrangement, Anita continues. Ill sort it today.
No need, Emma says, taking Anitas hand. Im fine the way it is.
Fine! You love living in chaos! No wonder James is always grouchy! Emma clenches her fists, feeling the urge to say something shell regret. She takes a deep breath, exhales, and steadies herself.
This is my kitchen. Ive been cooking here for fifteen years, and I like everything in its place, she says.
Alright, alright, calm down, Anita waves it off. I just want whats best!
Emma leaves the kitchen, heads to the bathroom, looks at her reflection tired eyes, dark circles, a strained expression. She feels exhausted from everything.
James leaves for work, and Emma stays at home with Anita. Anita spends the whole morning touring the flat, commenting:
These curtains are ancient, we need new ones. The sofa is sagging, time for a replacement. The wallpaper in the hallway is peeling why havent you reglued it? The carpet is dusty when was the last time you vacuumed?
Emma listens in silence, thinking of how her own mother never interfered, never criticised, always polite when she visited.
By lunch Anita decides to make her famous beef stew. Ill cook my signature stew! James loves it! she declares, taking over the whole kitchen pots, pans, bowls everywhere.
Emma offers to help.
Do you want me to chop something?
No, Ill do it myself! Anita snaps. Youll never cut it right!
Emma steps onto the balcony, dials her mother.
Mum, how are you?
Im fine, love, Margaret says cheerfully. Ive got the buckets in place, the tar down. The rain has stopped, at least for now.
Mum, Emmas throat tightens, maybe you could still come up? Well sort out a place
No, dear, I hear the strain in your voice youve got it under control. Dont worry.
Emma hangs up and cries. Her mother will be stuck under a leaking roof while Anita enjoys a warm flat. Is that fair?
That evening James returns from work, and Anita greets him with a shout:
Sweetie! Ive made your favourite stew!
At dinner James raves about the stew:
Mmm, this is brilliant! I havent had a stew like this in ages!
Emma eats in silence. Her own stew seems bland by comparison.
What, am I a bad cook? she finally asks.
No, its just that mums stew has that special something from my childhood, James replies, clueless.
Right, Emma says, setting her spoon down. Im full.
She gets up, goes to the bedroom, lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling. This is what life feels like now cooking, cleaning, trying, and still not being valued. Mums stew is better. Mum matters more.
A week passes. Anita settles in fully rearranges the kitchen to her liking, hangs her towels in the bathroom, claims a shelf in the fridge. She rises early, bangs pots, prepares breakfast for her boy, and nagues Emma about every little thing.
Emma, why is Jamess shirt crumpled? Cant you use an iron?
Emma, theres hair on the bathroom floor! When was the last time you cleaned?
Emma, youve put too much salt in the soup! How can you eat that?
Emma endures it all, clenching her teeth.
Then her mother calls.
Love, Ive got a fever. I think the draft made me sick. Ill just lie down.
What temperature? Emma asks, alarmed.
Thirtyeight degrees, Margaret coughs. Dont worry.
Emma hangs up and goes to James, whos at his computer.
James, my mum is ill. Shes struggling at the cottage, we need to bring her in.
Where to bring her? he doesnt look up. We already have a mum here.
Let your mum move out! Emma snaps. My mum is sick!
My mum isnt moving anywhere, James says coldly. Her renovation isnt finished.
My mum cant be ill at the cottage! Emma feels the heat rise inside. James, do you hear yourself?
I hear, he finally looks at her. Your mum is exaggerating as usual. Thirtyeight isnt even a temperature.
Shes sixtytwo! Emma shouts. She has high blood pressure, a weak heart! She cant be out in the cold!
Dont shout at me, James stands. I said no. End of story.
Emma looks at him and suddenly realises she barely knows the man shes lived with for fifteen years. He feels like a stranger.
Fine, she says quietly. Ill go to my mums cottage and stay until she recovers.
Go, James replies indifferently. Just leave dinner for us.
Emma packs a bag, prepares three days worth of food, writes a list of where everything is in the kitchen. Anita watches her pack.
Leaving for long?
Not sure, Emma answers. My mum is ill, she needs me.
Who will look after James? Anita asks, offended.
You, Emma says, zipping her suitcase. Youre his mum.
She drives to the cottage. Her mum lies with a fever, coughing, complaining of weakness. Emma lights the woodburner, makes broth, serves tea with honey.
Why did you come, love? Margaret asks weakly. James is alone there.
Not alone, Emma corrects. He has his mum too. You need me more.
Three days pass; Emma looks after her mum, cooks, cleans, manages medication. James calls once, asking when shell be back, then never again.
When Margaret improves, Emma returns home to find the flat in disarray piles of dirty dishes, pots in the sink, Anita lounging on the sofa watching TV.
Oh, youre back, Anita grumbles. We were starving.
Wheres James? Emma asks.
At work, of course. Im on my own here. No one to cook, no one to clean.
Emma walks to the kitchen, starts washing dishes, fury bubbling inside while she was caring for her sick mum, they were just waiting for a housekeeper to return.
That evening James arrives.
Finally! The house was a mess without you.
Hello to you too, Emma says coldly. My mums fine, thanks for asking.
Good to hear. Whats for dinner?
Emma looks at him for a long moment.
Nothing. I didnt cook.
How could you not cook? James asks, baffled. You were home all day!
I was home for half an hour, Emma says, standing. I came back, tidied up after you both. If you want to eat, make it yourself.
What?! James is taken aback. Emma, whats wrong?
Im tired, she says simply. Tired of being the servant. Cook yourself or let my mum do it the one who matters more.
She retreats to the bedroom and locks the door. James bangs, demanding an explanation, but Emma doesnt open.
In the morning she gets dressed and announces,
Im leaving to stay with my mum. Permanently. Ill live with her until I decide what to do next.
Youve gone mad! James shouts, eyes wide. Why this drama?
Its because you chose your mum over me, Emma replies calmly. Your mum is your priority, mine isnt. So Im gone.
Dont talk nonsense! James protests.
Its not nonsense, she says, grabbing her bag. Im done. If you want to live with your mum, do it. Im leaving.
Anita rushes out of her room.
Emma, where are you going? Whats happening?
Nothings happening, Emma puts on her coat. I just realised Im not valued here. I have no reason to stay.
She walks out of the flat, closes the door, and feels a strange relief in the lift. For the first time in years she does exactly what she wants, not whats expected.
Her mum meets her at the gate, surprised.
Love, whats happened?
Emma tells her everything. Margaret listens, nodding, sighing.
Maybe Im being harsh? Margaret asks gently. Its your husband, after all.
Mum, Emma says, taking her hand, Ive spent fifteen years living for him cooking, washing, tolerating his moods. When I had to choose between your health and his mums comfort, he chose his mum. Im not important to him, nor am I to you. Only his mum matters.
Margaret sighs.
Perhaps youre right. Stay here, rest, think things over.
A week later James calls every day, begging her to return. Emma stops answering. Eventually he drives to the cottage.
Emma, stop this nonsense! he shouts at the gate. Come back home!
Emma steps out.
I wont return until you understand one simple thing, she says.
Whats that?
That in a family there are no important or unimportant people, she says firmly. You cant put one mother above another. A wife isnt a servant. Im also a person with feelings and dignity.
James stays silent, then asks quietly,
Will you really not come back?
No, not until you apologise to me and to my mum. And until your mum moves out of the flat.
But she still has a renovation!
Then she finds a flat, or lives in the renovation. Thats her problemJames finally called his mother, arranged a flat for her, and returned home ready to rebuild their partnership on equal respect.
