Hell be living with us
A sharp knock announced someones arrival. Molly tossed her apron aside, wiped her hands, and went to answer the door. Standing on the doorstep was her daughter, Emma, arminarm with a young man. Molly let them in.
Hi, Mum, Emma pecked her cheek. Meet Tom hes moving in with us.
Hello, the lad said politely.
And this is my mother, Aunt Molly, Emma added.
Lydia Margaret Miller, corrected the girls mother, adjusting her cardigan.
Mum, whats for dinner? asked Emma.
Pea purée and sausages, replied Molly.
I dont eat pea purée, Tom muttered, kicking off his shoes and heading to the hallway.
Seriously, Mum? Tom never eats peas, Emma whined, eyes widening.
Tom dumped his rucksack on the sofa and plonked down. Actually, this is my room, Molly said, pointing to the tidy space.
Tom, come on, Ill show you where well be staying, shouted Emma.
Im fine here, Tom grumbled, getting up.
Mum, youll have to think of something to feed Tom, Emma prompted.
Ive only got half a packet of sausages left, Molly shrugged.
Thatll do mustard, ketchup, and some crusty bread, Tom replied.
Fine then, Molly said, shuffling to the kitchen. I used to bring home litters of kittens and puppies, now Ive got a soninlaw to feed.
She ladled herself a spoonful of pea mash, popped two fried sausages onto a plate, nudged a bowl of salad closer, and dug in with gusto.
Mum, why are you eating alone? Emma asked as she entered the kitchen.
Because Ive just got back from work and Im starving, Molly answered between bites. If anyone wants food, they can serve themselves or make something. Oh, and one more thing why is Tom moving in with us?
How come? Tom asked. Hes my husband.
Molly nearly choked on her sausage.
My husband? she repeated.
Exactly. Emmas an adult now, she decides whether to get married. Im nineteen, after all.
You didnt even invite me to a wedding.
There was no wedding we just signed the papers. Since were husband and wife, well be living together, Emma said, glancing at her munching mother.
Well, congratulations. Why no ceremony?
If youve got cash for a wedding, feel free to hand it over. Well find a use for it.
Got it, Molly continued chewing, but why here?
Because the flat they have is a onebedroom and its already four people cramped inside.
So you didnt consider renting elsewhere?
Why rent when I have my own room? Emma replied.
Mum, youve got a soninlaw now, Emma declared dramatically.
And what? I have to break into a jig for that? Im exhausted from work, lets skip the ritual dance. Use your own hands and feet, thank you very much, Molly snapped.
That’s why youre still single! Emma shot back, slamming the bedroom door.
Molly finished her dinner, washed the dishes, wiped the table and headed to her bedroom. She changed into gym clothes, grabbed her tote, and off she went to the local leisure centre. She liked to keep fit, hitting the gym and the pool a few evenings a week.
Around ten oclock she returned, looking forward to a mug of tea, only to find the kitchen in chaos clearly someone had tried their hand at cooking. The lid from the pea pot was missing, the mash had dried and cracked, a packet of sausages lay open on the counter, a stale slice of bread without its wrapper sat beside it, and the frying pan was scorched, its nonstick coating scratched with a fork. The sink was piled with dishes, and a sticky sweet puddle glistened on the floor. A faint smell of cigarettes lingered.
Well, thats a new one. Emma never let this kind of mess happen, Molly muttered.
She opened the bedroom door. The young couple were drinking wine and puffing on cigarettes.
Emma, tidy up the kitchen. Youll buy a new pan tomorrow, Molly said, heading back to her room without closing the door behind her.
Emma leapt up and chased after her.
Why do we have to clean? And where am I supposed to get money for a new pan? Im not working, Im studying. You think the dishes are a burden?
Emma, you know the house rules: eat, then clean; make a mess, then clean; break something, replace it. Everyone looks after their own mess. And yes, Im sorry about the pan it wasnt cheap, and now its ruined.
You dont want us to stay here, Emma snapped.
Not really, Molly replied calmly.
She didnt feel like arguing with her daughter; it had never come up before.
But I have a stake in this, Emma protested.
Nope. The flat is mine outright. I paid for it, I bought it. Youre only on the lease. Dont expect me to foot your bills. If you want to stay, follow the rules, Molly said, her voice steady.
Ive lived by your rules my whole life. Im married now, so you cant tell me what to do, Emma shrieked. Besides, youre old enough to hand over the flat to us.
Ill give you the hallway outside and a bench on the landing. So, youre married? Nobody asked me. Youre sleeping here alone, or with your husband elsewhere. He wont be moving in, Molly retorted sharply.
Fine, keep your flat. Tom, were leaving, Emma shouted, gathering her things.
Moments later Tom stumbled into the hallway, clearly tipsy.
Alright, mum, dont panic and everything will be fine, he slurred, swaying. Emma and I arent going anywhere tonight. Behave and maybe well even get a bit romantic later.
What am I, your mum? Lydia snapped. Your mum and dad are still at home, so get on with it and dont forget your newlywed wife.
Sure, Ill Tom raised his fist, aiming at his motherinlaw.
Hold on a sec, Lydia warned, but the fist was already on the way.
Molly seized his hand with her manicured fingers, using all her strength.
Ow, let go of me, you lunatic!
Mom, what are you doing? Emma screamed, trying to pull her mother away.
Lydia shoved Emma aside, then kicked Tom in the groin and elbowed his neck.
Im going to report this assault, Tom growled. Ill sue you.
Wait, Ill call the police so they can document everything, Molly replied.
The young pair fled the nowquiet twobedroom flat.
Youre not my mother anymore, Emma cried, and youll never see any grandchildren.
Such a tragedy, Molly said with dry wit. Ill finally have some peace for myself.
She glanced at her hands a few nails were broken.
Just losses thanks to you lot, Lydia muttered.
After theyd gone, she scrubbed the kitchen, tossed the ruined pea mash and the battered pan, and changed the locks. Three months later, near her workplace, Emma appeared, looking gaunt, cheeks sunken, utterly miserable.
Mum, whats for dinner? she asked.
I havent decided yet, Molly shrugged. What do you want?
Chicken and rice, Emma whispered, eyes shining. And a proper potato salad.
Then lets go buy a chicken, Molly said. Make the salad yourself.
She didnt ask Emma any more questions, and Tom never turned up in their lives again.
