The suitcases arrived first.
“Have you lost your mind? Where on earth am I supposed to put all your luggage?” Margaret shouted into the phone, waving her free hand in exasperation. “I live in a one-bed flat, do you hear me? A one-bed! And there are four of you!”
“Mum, don’t shout like that,” her daughter’s voice crackled through the receiver. “There’s only three of us—Christopher stayed in Manchester for his exams. It’s just me, Mike, and little Emily. Just a week, tops, till we find a place to rent.”
“A week?!” Margaret nearly dropped the phone. “Katie, darling, have you seen the size of my flat? There’s barely enough room for Whiskers! And you’ve got a child—where’s she meant to sleep? On my sofa?”
“Mum, we’ll make do. We’ll sleep on the floor. Emily’s small, she won’t take up much space.”
Margaret cast a critical eye over her cramped flat. The pull-out sofa where she slept, an old armchair inherited from her late mother-in-law, the tiny kitchen with its finicky fridge. The only bright spot was the geraniums on the windowsill—her one joy in these cluttered quarters.
“Katie, love, why not a hotel? I’m on a pension, I can’t stretch to much—”
“Mum, don’t be silly! We barely had enough for train tickets! Look, we’re already on our way—we’ll be there tomorrow. Just clear a bit of space, alright?”
The line clicked dead.
Margaret sank into her armchair, staring blankly at the phone. Katie and her family were moving from Manchester to London, chasing a better life. Her son-in-law, Mike, was convinced he’d land a decent job in the city. Until then, they’d stay with her. In her tiny flat on the outskirts, where she barely fit by herself.
Whiskers, the ginger-and-white tabby, wound himself around her ankles, purring.
“Well, Whiskers,” Margaret sighed, stroking his head, “prepare for company. We’ll be packed in like sardines.”
She stood, surveying the room with a frown. The wardrobe took up half the space, shelves cluttered with decades of accumulation—framed photos, well-thumbed books, trinkets Katie had gifted her over the years.
“Time for a clear-out,” she muttered.
Her neighbor, Mrs. Wilkins, emerged from her flat just as Margaret was hauling a box into the hall.
“Margaret, dear, spring cleaning in October?” Mrs. Wilkins eyed the clutter with interest.
“My daughter’s coming. To stay,” Margaret said curtly.
“Oh, how lovely! Just visiting?”
“No. For good. Well, until they find a place.”
Mrs. Wilkins raised her brows. “Bit tight, isn’t it? Young people these days—no sense of space.”
“Mrs. Wilkins, I’m in a bit of a rush,” Margaret cut in before another lecture could begin.
That evening, she sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, lost in thought. Katie, her only child, had married Mike after her first husband left. Little Emily was four now, and Margaret had only seen her a handful of times—visits to Manchester were costly on her pension.
Mike had worked in a factory, but layoffs were looming. Katie stayed home with Emily, tutoring part-time. They’d rented a flat, but money was tight, and London seemed full of promise.
Whiskers leapt onto her lap, curling up. Margaret stroked him absently.
“How on earth will we all fit, Whiskers?” she whispered. “And how will we feed everyone? My pension barely covers me—now there’ll be five.”
The next morning, the buzzer startled her awake at half six. She threw on her dressing gown and hurried barefoot to the door.
There stood Katie, dragging a massive suitcase, Mike weighed down with two more, and between them—little Emily, blonde curls tousled, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Mum!” Katie flung herself into Margaret’s arms. “God, I missed you!”
“Katie, love.” Margaret hugged her tight, feeling how thin she’d grown. “Come in, don’t stand on the step.”
“Morning, Margaret,” Mike said, setting down his bags with a tired smile. “Thanks for having us.”
“Don’t thank me, you’re family.”
Emily peeked out from behind her father, studying her grandmother with shy curiosity.
“Emily, don’t be silly—this is Granny!” Katie nudged her forward. “Remember the photos?”
“Hello, sweetheart.” Margaret bent down. “My, you’re a picture! Just like your mum at your age.”
Emily gave a tiny smile but kept gripping Mike’s hand.
“You must be starving,” Margaret said, snapping into action. “Come, I’ll whip up breakfast.”
They shuffled into the flat, and Margaret saw the glance Katie and Mike exchanged. Yes, it was small. Far too small.
“Mum, where do we put our things?” Katie ventured.
“I cleared space,” Margaret said quickly. “Half the wardrobe’s empty, and suitcases can go under the bed.”
“Under the bed…” Mike echoed, eyeing the pull-out sofa. “And where do we sleep?”
“The sofa folds out—plenty of room for two. Emily can… well, she’s small, she’ll fit in the armchair.”
Whiskers padded in, freezing at the sight of newcomers.
“Kitty!” Emily squealed, reaching for him.
“Emily, don’t—he might scratch!” Katie warned.
“He’s gentle,” Margaret said firmly. “Whiskers, meet Emily.”
The cat sniffed the offered hand, then permitted a cautious stroke.
“Mum, does he use a litter tray?” Katie asked. “Emily’s got allergies.”
“Of course he does,” Margaret said, something tightening in her chest. “Why?”
“No reason.”
Breakfast was awkward. Margaret laid out everything in the fridge—sliced ham, bread, butter, jam. The tea was strong.
“Mum, any milk?” Katie asked. “Emily won’t eat cereal without it.”
“Ran out yesterday. I’ll pop to the shop.”
“I’ll go,” Mike offered. “Where’s nearest?”
“Just round the corner,” Margaret said. “But they don’t open till eight.”
Katie pulled out her phone. “Mum, do you have Wi-Fi?”
“Wi-Fi?”
“You know, broadband. To connect.”
“Lord, no. What would I need that for?”
Katie exchanged a look with Mike. “How am I meant to send job applications?”
“Library’s got free internet,” Mike said wearily.
“Granny, can I watch telly?” Emily pointed at the old box in the corner.
“Of course, love.” Margaret switched it on, fiddling with the dials until the picture steadied. “There, cartoons should be on.”
Mike left for the shop, and the women stayed with Emily.
“Mum, is there hot water?” Katie asked. “Emily needs a bath—the train was filthy.”
“Usually, but not always,” Margaret admitted. “Touch and go in summer.”
Katie lowered her voice. “We thought we’d find a flat in a few days. Mike’s lined up an interview tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s good,” Margaret said, forcing a smile.
“Yeah, but rentals here… deposits, first month up front, agency fees. Might take a week or two.”
“A week or two,” Margaret repeated, picturing five bodies in her tiny flat.
“Mum, we’ll help out. Once Mike’s settled, we’ll chip in—maybe even do up the place.”
“I don’t need the place done up,” Margaret said quickly. “I just…”
“Just what?”
“Nothing, love. I’m glad you’re here.”
But she wasn’t. Just overwhelmed.
Mike returned grim-faced. “Everything’s twice Manchester prices,” he muttered.
Margaret nodded. “Pension doesn’t stretch far.”
“Mum, maybe we take turns cooking?” Katie suggested. “Emily’s fussy, and we’re used to home meals.”
“Of course,” Margaret said, though she dreaded the tiny kitchen becoming even more cramped.
“Enough pots and pans?” Katie peered into the cupboards.
“Not exactly gourmet, but it’ll do.”
“Granny, can I feed the kitty?” Emily tugged her sleeve.
“Course, love. His food’s in that cupboard.”
Delighted, Emily scrambled to fetch it. Whiskers accepted the offering with regal grace.
“Mum,” Katie said suddenly, “maybe we should rehome Whiskers? Just till we sort ourselves out.”
Margaret went very still. “Rehome him?”
“You know—neighbors, or a shelter. Just temporary.”
“Katie!” Margaret paled. “Whiskers has been with me eight years!”
“Mum, be practical. There’s no space, and Emily—”
“Whiskers stays.”
Katie backedMargaret held her ground, and as the weeks passed, the overcrowded flat became a shared home—cluttered, chaotic, but filled with love, until at last Katie and Mike found their own place, leaving Margaret and Whiskers in peaceful solitude once more.
