Emily finished washing the dishes after breakfast when her mother-in-law, Margaret, called. Six-month-old Oliver was peacefully asleep in his pram on the balcony, giving her a moment to talk undisturbed.
“Emily, love, Ive got a favour to ask,” Margaret began cautiously. “Id love to see my grandson. Maybe I could come and stay with you for a bit?”
Emily sensed no ulterior motive. Margaret lived up north, and they rarely saw each other. Since Oliver was born, theyd only spoken over the phone.
“Of course, Margaret, do come. You should see Oliverhes growing so fast.”
“How long can I stay? A week, perhaps?”
“Thats fine,” Emily agreed generously. “The sofa in the living room pulls outits quite comfortable.”
Margaret brightened at once.
“Oh, thank you, dear! Ill be there in a couple of days. Ive already bought the train tickets, just in case.”
Emily smiled. Later, she told her husband, William, about the visit.
“Alright, let her come,” he agreed. “Havent seen Mum in ages.”
Three days later, Emily got a message from Margaret:
“Arriving todayno need to fetch me, Ill take a taxi.”
Emily prepared the sofa, stocked up on groceries, and even bought a cake.
Margaret arrived in the evening with two large suitcases and a beaming smile. But behind her stood a mans figure in the hallway.
“Emily, meet Harold,” Margaret said cheerfully. “My friend. He had business in London anyway, so we thought wed travel together and introduce him properly.”
Emily stared blankly at the unfamiliar man in his sixtiesgrey-haired, in a worn suit, clutching a scuffed suitcase.
“Hello,” she murmured.
“Pleasure,” Harold replied, offering a handshake. “Margarets told me so much about you.”
Emily led them into the living room, struggling to process the situation. Their two-bed rented flat was meant for threenot five.
“Margaret,” she whispered aside, “where will Harold stay? You didnt mention bringing anyone.”
“Whats the issue?” Margaret blinked. “The sofas big enough. Harolds not fussy.”
Emily stood frozen, trying to digest it.
“Margaret, I only prepared for you. Weve a babyspace is tight.”
Margaret waved her off, unpacking. “Dont fret, love. We wont be in the way. Right, Harold?”
Harold nodded, scanning the flat with interest. “Nice place. Decent area, good transport links. Perfect for job hunting.”
“Job hunting?” Emily echoed.
“Aye,” Harold confirmed. “No prospects up in Blackburn. Thought Id try my luck here.”
Emilys head spun. He wasnt just visiting.
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“Oh, well see,” Margaret cut in smoothly. “Harold needs time to settle.”
Emily forced a smile and retreated to the kitchen. Just then, William returned from work.
“Hi, hows things? Mum here yet?”
“She is. And shes not alone.”
William paused. “What dyou mean?”
“She brought a gentleman friend. Go meet Harold.”
William walked into the living room, where Margaret was showing Harold family photos on her phone.
“Mum, you never said you were bringing a guest.”
“William, love!” Margaret beamed. “Meet HaroldHarold, my son.”
The men shook hands. Harold grinned.
“Your mums proud of you. Fine family youve got.”
“Cheers,” William said flatly. “Mum, a word?”
They stepped into the kitchen. Emily pretended to cook, ears straining.
“Mum, have you lost the plot? Bringing a stranger into our home?”
“William, dont shout! Harolds a good man. Weve been friends six months.”
“Friendships one thingmoving him ins another!”
Margarets face fell. “So your own mothers a burden now?”
William sighed. “Its not about you. But you shouldve asked. Weve a babyroutine matters.”
“Well be quiet,” Margaret promised. “Just till Harold finds work.”
Defeated, William relented. Kicking them out felt cruel, and Emily stayed silent.
The first days passed calmly. Margaret doted on Oliver; Harold scoured job ads. But soon, cracks appeared.
Mornings meant queues for the bathroomHarold took ages shaving. Margaret cooked breakfasts no one wanted. Evenings were spent cramped in the bedroom while the guests hogged the telly.
“Emily, youve a laptop, yeah?” Harold asked one night. “Need to send my CV.”
“We use it for work,” Emily said.
“Just borrowing it. For job hunting.”
Harold camped at the laptop daily, calling recruiters loudly.
“Aye, decades of experienceforeman in Blackburn. Age? Ive years left in me!”
Oliver woke screaming. Emily soothed him as Harold bellowed on.
“Sorry, thats the grandson. Bit fussy, you know.”
Margaret “helped”her methods clashing with Emilys.
“Pick him up too much, hell spoil,” shed say.
“Hes hungry.”
“Cant behe ate an hour ago. Must be teething.”
Emily bit her tongue.
A week in, patience frayed. Harold had no job, yet remained optimistic. Margaret acted like lady of the house.
“Emily, whys the fridge so bare?” she tutted. “Need proper groceries.”
“We buy what we eat.”
“Harold needs proper mealsjob huntings hard work!”
Emily gaped at the audacity. Their budget was stretched thinyet the guests had only shopped once.
Worse were Harolds calls bragging to mates:
“Dave, guess what? Staying in London nowsons place. Two-bed, posh area!”
Emily seethed. They were funding a freeloader who boasted about it.
The breaking point came when Oliver fell illfeverish and restless. Emily nursed him nights; Harold demanded silence for calls.
“Sorry, but hes poorly,” she said.
“Employers calling! This is important!”
William overheard and snapped.
“Mum, how longs this going on?”
“William, be patient. Harolds trying.”
“And if he fails? Lives here till retirement?”
Margaret gasped. “How could you? Were family!”
“Hes not,” William said coldly. “Youve two days to leave.”
Margaret wept; Harold sulked. But William stood firm. Two days later, they boarded a train back to Blackburn.
As they left, Margaret muttered, “Shame I wont see my grandson now.”
The rift lingered. Emily vowed never to host againhospitality had limits, especially with a baby in a rented flat.
Sowas the son right, or did he go too far? Drop your thoughts below.
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