No, Mum. You wont be visiting us againnot today, not tomorrow, not next year. A story of patience worn thin.
I spent ages wondering how to start this, but only two words came to mind: *audacity* and *silent complicity*. One came from my mother-in-law, the other from my husband. And stuck in the middle was mea woman who tried to be kind, polite, considerate. Until I realised that if I stayed quiet, our home would be nothing but an empty shell.
Ill never understand how someone can walk into another persons house and take what isnt theirs, as if everything belongs to them. But thats exactly what my mother-in-law did. And all of it for her daughter. My husbands sister.
Every visit ended with meat vanishing from the freezer, pots of spaghetti bolognese disappearing from the stove, and even my brand-new hair straightenersnever once usedgone. *Emilys got such frizzy hair, and youre just at homeyou dont need these,* shed say later, without a shred of shame.
I bit my tongue. I put up with it. I explained it to my husband. Hed just shrug. *Its my mumshe doesnt mean harm. Well buy another one.*
But the final straw came on our fifth wedding anniversary. Wed planned a romantic dinner, just the two of us, like the old days. Id picked out my dressall I needed were the shoes. And I bought them. Gorgeous, expensive, the ones Id been dreaming of since last summer. I left the box in our bedroom, waiting for the big day.
But nothing went to plan.
That afternoon, I got held up at work and asked my husband, James, to pick up our daughter from nursery. He agreed, but then something came up, so instead, he called his mum. Gave her the keys to let herself in and look after little Sophie.
When I got home, I went straight to the bedroom. And froze. The box was gone.
*James, where are my new shoes?* I asked, already knowing the answer.
*How should I know?* He shrugged.
*Was your mum here?*
*Yeah, she came to get Sophie, stayed a bit, then left.*
*And the keys?* I kept my voice steady.
*I gave them to her. So?*
I grabbed my phone and called her. She answered straight away.
*Evening,* I began, measured. *I think you know why Im calling.*
*No idea,* she replied, not a hint of guilt.
*Where are my new shoes?*
*I gave them to Emily. Youve got plenty. Shes got nothing decent for the New Years party.*
And just like that*click*she hung up. No apology. No remorse. Just silence.
My husband, as usual, just said, *Well buy another pair, dont stress. Its my mum.*
I stood up. Took his arm. Dragged him to the shopping centre. And there, in front of the display window, I pointed at the one pair Id been eyeing for monthsshoes that nearly gave him a heart attack.
*Charlotte, thats half my wages!* he gasped, pale.
*You said wed buy another pair. So were buying them.* I didnt budge.
He paid. Signed away the price of his silent complicity.
But the story didnt end there. On the way home, his phone rang. His mum: *Im coming over today. Got bags of fresh herbsmy freezers full. Ill leave them at yours and collect them in a month or two.*
I watched him stare at the screen. His jaw tightened. And then, for the first time, he dialled her number and said in a voice that brooked no argument:
*Mum, youre not stepping foot in this house again. Not today, not tomorrow, not next year. Because your last favour cost us way too much.*
He hung up. And I looked at him, feelingfor the first time in ageslike we were finally a proper family. A home where doors dont open for thieves, but for those who respect us.
