A Home Without Welcome: When Mother Turned the House Into a Battlefield
The flat where we were no longer welcome: How a mother made home a warzone
Oliver sat at his desk when the phone rang. The screen flashedhis wife. He was surprisedshe rarely called midday.
“Hello, Emily. Is everything alright? Im a bit busy,” he said, eyes still on the monitor.
“Something terribles happened,” her voice trembled, choked with tears, “Weve been kicked out. Weve got no home left!”
“What?!” Oliver shot up from his chair, “Did something happen to the flat? Fire? Break-in?”
“The flats fine but were not allowed to live there anymore,” Emily whispered.
“What dyou meannot allowed? Who could stop us from living in our own home?!”
“Who else? Your mother!” she burst out, her voice raw with pain, fury, despair.
Years ago, theyd moved to London with the kidsthe eldest seven, the youngest five. Theyd started from scratch, worked hard. Then, luck struckEmilys father had unexpectedly inherited a flat from a distant relative in the countryside.
“Live there,” the old man had said, “Im retired, the taxes are manageable, the flat stays in my name, but we wont bother you.”
Theyd renovated, bought furniture. It felt like home. Even if the flat wasnt legally theirs, it was where they belonged. Only Emily carried a quiet unease.
“Were putting everything into this place, but our names arent on the deeds,” shed told Oliver.
“Dont worry. My parents are here. Whod kick us out? Were family.”
But worse camethey were evicted. Not by strangers. By their own blood.
The trigger was his fathers birthday. They visited, celebrated. The next day, his mother stood at their door.
“Weve decidedJames, your cousin, is moving in. Hes at uni now, halls are full. Youve got space. And,” she added coldly, “the flats ours anyway, so we decide who lives there.”
Emilys breath caught. But Oliver just nodded.
“No problem. Theres room.”
She wanted to scream, bit her lip. Not the time. But something shattered in her that day.
James moved inand acted like he owned the place. Ate on the sofa, shouted, never cleaned. Everything he touched turned filthy. Then Olivers parents visited. To see their “grandson.” And the nightmare began.
“James shoes are muddy!” his mother scolded. “Why isnt his jacket washed?! And wheres the cake?!”
She barked orders like a sergeant. Cooked, cleaned, scrubbed. Then, out of nowhere, to Emily:
“I dont see how my son lives with someone like you! You should leave. Let the flat go.”
“Go where? Rents are sky-high, the girls have their lives here”
“Not my problem. Pack your things.”
When Emily refused, his mother snapped:
“Ill talk Oliver round. Hell sign the papers.”
Emily packed in silence, tears streaming.
Oliver found out and stormed over.
“Mum, whats this?! Youre throwing my wife out?!”
“Shes unnecessary. And besidesshe drinks!”
“Excuse me?!”
“I heard bottles clinking. Why hide it? I wont have that under my roof. The flats mineI decide.”
“Mum, that was James with the recycling!”
“Dont pin it on the boy! If she shows her face here againdont complain.”
“Then Im going with her.”
“Even better. James has a girlfriendshell move in.”
Oliver clenched his fists, silent.
“Fine. Two days.”
Later, he told Emily, “Dont cry. Well take everythingToms got a garage. Itll be alright. Well buy our own place. Maybe not how we dreamed, but ours.”
Three days later, his mother arrived with sister Charlotteloaded for a siege. Meat, fish, tins, sacks of potatoes
“Have they really left?!” Charlotte gasped.
“Empty No kitchen No fridge No furniture”
“Put it on the balcony.”
“But its raining! Mum, you cant even sleep here!”
Margaret Bennett dialled her sonno answer. The grandkidssame.
“Margaret here Nana” she tried one granddaughter, but the line hissed:
“Dont call again!”
The flat held only a grubby old sofa. And a bucket in the bathtuba broken dreams last relic.
Six months later, Emily cooked in their new flat. The phone rang. Unknown number.
“Oliver, its me Mum You wont answer Im sorry. Come back. Live here.”
“We do live. In our home.”
“Your home? Why dyou need another? Youve got ours!”
“Yours is yours. Ours is ours.”
“And the girls? Theyve cut me off!”
“They dont need anything. Weve got it all. Forget the flat. Were never coming back.”
Oliver ended the call. That chapter was closed. And it would never be reopened.
