This is our flat together, Im the landlady too Holly said, Andrews girlfriend, as she entered the hallway.
Mum, why are you barging into my room without knocking? Andrew burst from the bedroom, his face twisted in irritation.
What knock? This is my flat! Margaret placed the laundry basket on the floor. Ive just brought back the clean washing, thats why Im here.
You could have taken it from the bathroom yourself!
I could have, but I didnt. Its been sitting there for two days.
Andrew snorted, slammed the bedroom door and stormed away.
Margaret sighed, moved to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Her son had become nervous, on edge, snapping at the slightest provocation something shed never seen before.
She was fiftyseven, had devoted her whole life to Andrew. Her husband left when he was five; she never remarried, raised him alone, working two jobs so he would never want for anything. Hed gone to a good school, then university, and now held a respectable position at a construction firm.
The threeroom flat was in Margarets name, inherited from her parents before the divorce. They lived together: Margaret in the living room, Andrew in his own bedroom, and a spare room that served as a lounge.
Margaret set out mugs, fetched biscuits. Andrew appeared in the doorway, calmer now.
Sorry, Mum. I lost my temper.
Its all right. Come, have a cup of tea.
He sat opposite her, took a mug.
Mum, I need to talk to you.
The tone told her this was serious.
Im listening.
I want Holly to move in with me. With us.
Margaret froze, mug halfway to her lips.
Holly? Your girlfriend?
Yes. Weve been together six months, you know that.
I know. But for her to move in Andrew, are you planning to get married?
Not yet, he looked away. We just want to live together, see if we fit.
And where will she live? In your room?
Exactly.
Andrew, thats impractical. I live here, youre young
Mum, Im a grown man, thirty now. Its time I sort out my personal life.
Im not opposed to your personal life! Margaret set her mug down. I just think you need a separate place. Rent a flat, for example.
Why rent when we already have a threeroom flat? Theres enough space for everyone.
Think about it, Andrew. Im used to a certain order in this house. A strangers girlfriend moving in
She isnt a stranger! Shes my girlfriend!
To me shes a stranger, Margaret said firmly. Ive only seen her three times; we barely know each other.
Youll get to know her when she moves in.
No, Margaret shook her head. Im sorry, Im against it.
Andrew snapped to his feet.
You know what, Mum? Im fed up asking your permission for everything! Im an adult!
In my flat youll keep asking.
In your flat, he smirked. You keep reminding me Im just a tenant, not your son.
Margaret felt a lump form in her throat.
Andrew, I didnt mean
I know. Well talk later.
He strode back to his room. Margaret remained at the kitchen table, staring out the window, a heavy weight on her chest. She didnt want a fight with her son, but she also didnt want a stranger in her home.
That evening she called her sister Lucy.
Lucy, Ive got a problem. Andrew wants his girlfriend to move in with us.
Into the flat?
Yes. Im opposed, and hes upset.
Lucy was silent for a moment.
Did you really think hes an adult now? He needs his own life.
I understand, but they should rent somewhere else!
Where will the money come from? Rents skyhigh these days. You have a big flat, plenty of room.
Are you taking his side?
Im on no side. I just think itll happen sooner or later. He cant live alone forever.
Margaret hung up feeling betrayed; even her sister hadnt backed her.
The next few days were tense. Andrew came home late from work, ate in silence, then retreated to his room. Margaret suffered the quiet, her pride stopping her from being the first to speak.
One Friday evening Andrew returned not alone. Holly was with him.
Mum, hi. Holly will stay the night, he said, heading to his bedroom.
Margaret froze in the hallway. Holly offered a shy smile.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Margaret.
Good afternoon.
The girl slipped past Andrew, the door closing behind her. Margaret stood in the hall, stunned. He had brought her in without warning, as if storming through a wall.
She retreated to her room, the sting of humiliation hot in her chest. How could he do that?
The next morning Margaret rose early, as always, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Half an hour later Andrew appeared, Holly trailing behind.
Good morning, Holly said brightly.
Good morning, Margaret replied curtly.
They all sat at the table. Margaret poured tea and set out toast. They ate in silence.
Mrs. Margaret, your flat is very cosy, Holly commented suddenly.
Thank you.
Andrew told me youve lived here a long time.
Since I was born. This was my parents flat.
I see, Holly nodded. Must get used to it.
A awkward pause hung. Andrew stared at his phone, not joining the conversation.
Im off to work, Margaret said, even though her shift wouldnt start for another two hours.
She left for her room, changed, and walked the streets aimlessly, killing time.
She returned late that night. The flat was quiet; Andrew sat in the lounge watching television.
Wheres Holly? Margaret asked.
Shes gone home.
I see.
She reheated her dinner, then Andrew stood in the doorway.
Mum, we need to talk. Properly.
Im listening.
I know its uncomfortable for you, but Holly is really important to me. I want us to live together.
Andrew, Im not against her, Margaret sighed. Im just scared.
Scared of what?
That everything will change. That Ill become an extra in my own house.
You wont. This is still your flat.
Its my flat now, and soon shell be here, and Ill be in the way.
Mum, dont imagine things.
Im not imagining. I know how it feels. Young people want space, and youre still a mother in the doorway.
Andrew sat beside her.
How about this: Holly moves in, but well try not to intrude on you. You keep your room, we keep ours.
The kitchen and bathroom are shared.
Yes, but well sort a schedule.
Margaret looked at her son, the pleading in his eyes showing how much he loved the girl.
Fine, she whispered. Let her move in. Well try.
Andrew embraced her.
Thanks, Mum. You wont regret this.
A week later Holly arrived with two suitcases and a box of cosmetics. Margaret greeted them warmly, helping with the luggage.
Thank you, Mrs. Margaret, Holly smiled. Ill try not to be a burden.
No problem, settle in.
The first few days were quiet. Holly was polite, kept to herself, cooked separately, cleaned after herself.
Then the small frictions began.
Margaret noticed the bathroom shelves now packed with dozens of new perfume bottles, taking up the space shed always used.
Andrew, could you ask Holly to move some of her cosmetics? Margaret asked that evening. Theres no room to turn around in the bathroom.
Mum, she needs somewhere to store them.
Let her keep them in your room.
Theres no space there.
How about the bathroom?
Andrew grimaced.
Ill tell her.
But the cosmetics didnt disappear. New tubes kept appearing.
Later Margaret found the kitchen rearranged. Cups were not where shed placed them, pots stacked oddly.
Holly, did you rearrange this? she asked, trying to stay calm.
Yes, I tidied up, Holly replied with a smile. Its more convenient, isnt it?
I liked it the old way.
But its impractical to have heavy pans up high and light ones down low. I did it correctly.
Margaret said nothing, went and put everything back. Holly noticed and rearranged again that night.
A silent war over dish placement erupted.
Andrew, can you talk to her? Margaret pleaded.
Mum, does it matter where things are?
It matters to me! Im used to this.
Holly also wants comfort.
This is my kitchen!
Now its shared, Andrew said, walking away.
Shared. The word hung heavy.
Hollys things began to fill the lounge, her magazines on the coffee table, her shoes by the hall, her bags on the balcony. Margaret felt herself being edged out of her own flat, yet she kept quiet, not wanting to break with her son.
One evening she came home to find two unfamiliar women on the kitchen table, laughing loudly over coffee.
Who are they? Margaret asked Holly.
My friends. Were rehearsing a dance, we need space.
You could have told us.
Why? Holly raised an eyebrow. This is our shared flat, Im a coowner too.
The words hit Margaret like a slap. She stood frozen, unable to reply.
Mrs. Margaret, please come in, one of the friends smiled.
Thank you, Ill go to my room, Margaret muttered, retreating.
She closed the door, sat on the bed, hands shaking with anger.
Owner! she thought. How dare that girl, whos only been here a week, call herself the landlady?
Later that night Andrew appeared in the hallway.
I need to speak with you. Its urgent.
Whats happened?
Come to the kitchen.
They sat at the table; Hollys room was locked.
Andrew, your girlfriend brought friends over without warning.
So what?
This is my flat!
Mum, youre starting again.
Im not starting anything! She said this is a shared flat and that shes the landlady!
Andrew winced.
She didnt mean to hurt you. She just chose the wrong words.
Wrong words? She claims to be the landlady in my house!
She lives here. She feels at home.
But its not her home!
Whose? Only yours? I dont live here, do I?
You live here, youre my son. And she
Shes my girlfriend. I want her comfortable.
And I dont matter?
Andrew stood, anger flashing.
Mum, stop. Youre just scared of a woman being near me. Youre jealous.
What? Margaret leapt up. Im not jealous! I just want respect in my own house!
Then respect others!
He left to his room. Margaret stayed at the kitchen sink, battling tears.
The next day she called Lucy again.
Lucy, I told you it would be hard.
You said thered be enough space!
I meant physically. Emotionally its always tough when someone new moves in.
What should I do?
Talk to her. Explain what bothers you.
She wont listen!
Then go through Andrew. Let him talk to her.
But Andrew was clearly siding with Holly. Margaret felt betrayed.
Another week passed. Holly grew more confident, wearing short shorts and a tank top, blasting music, hogging the bathroom for long stretches. Margaret endured it, but the tension kept rising.
The climax arrived on Saturday. Margaret was rolling out dough for a cake when Holly walked in.
Margaret, I need the table for my laptop.
Im busy, as you can see.
Its urgent. I have to work.
Use your room.
Andrews sleeping there. I dont want to wake him.
Im baking a cake. I need the table.
I need the table for work. The cake can wait.
Margaret felt something snap inside her.
No, it wont wait! This is my kitchen, my table, and I decide what happens here!
Holly crossed her arms.
We already agreed this is a shared flat, so the table is shared too.
Its not shared! This is my flat and Im the landlady! Alone!
As you wish, Holly smirked. Just remember I live with Andrew, and hes your son. One day this flat will be ours.
What?! Margaret turned pale.
Its logical, isnt it? You wont be here forever. The flat will eventually belong to Andrew, and then to me when we marry.
Get out! Margaret shouted. Leave my house right now!
Who are you talking to? Holly didnt flinch.
You! Pack your things and go!
Im staying because Andrew let me, not you. I wont leave.
Andrew rushed in.
Whats happening?
Your mother is trying to kick me out, Holly said, looking hurt.
Im kicking her out! Margaret gasped. She said the flat will soon be hers!
Andrew looked at Holly.
Did you say that?
I was just stating a fact, Holly shrugged. The flat will eventually be yours, thats obvious.
Holly, thats inappropriate.
Why? Were both adults.
Because this is my mothers house! As long as shes alive, no one talks about inheritance!
Hollys face hardened.
Fine, sorry, Margaret. I didnt mean to offend.
You already have, Margaret wiped her tears. Andrew, either she leaves, or I do.
Mum, dont give ultimatums.
Im serious. I cant live here with her any longer. She doesnt respect me, claims shes the landlady, even talks about inheritance!
Mum
Decide, Andrew. Either her, or me.
Margaret stormed into her room, slammed the door, sat on the bed, clutching her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
She had spent her whole life giving everything to her son. Shed raised him alone, worked herself to the bone, provided education, support. Now he chose between her and a girl hed known only half a year.
From the hallway came muffled voices, Andrew and Holly arguing. Then silence.
She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. What would happen next? Would Holly go, or would Margaret have to move out?
A knock sounded.
Mum, its me. May I come in?
Come in.
Andrew entered, sat on the edge of the bed.
Holly is packing. Shell leave today.
Margaret sat up.
Really?
Yes. I talked to her, explained that her behaviour was wrong.
Did she agree?
Not at first. I insisted. Im sorry, Mum. I never expected it to get this far.
I didnt want a fight, Margaret whispered, wiping her eyes. I truly didnt.
I know. Im at fault. I acted too fast. I should have waited.
Do you love her?
Andrew paused.
I thought I did. Now I see shes selfish, tactless.
Maybe shes just young.
Youth isnt an excuse for rudeness.
He stood.
Ill help her carry her bags to the car, then well talk.
Margaret stayed in the room, hearing the rustle of suitcases and the slam of the back door. After half an hour the entrance closed.
Silence.
Andrew returned, knocked again.
Mum, shes gone.
They went back to the kitchen. The cake lay halfbaked, the dough dried on the counter.
Its ruined, Margaret sighed.
Itll be fine next time.
They sat down. Andrew took her hand.
Im sorry. I acted like a selfish fool.
No, I was harsh too. I reacted too quickly. I should have given her a chance.
You did. She turned out not to be who I thought.
And what about you?
Ill manage, he chuckled. This isnt the first, wont be the last.
Andrew, perhaps you really should think about getting your own place? Margaret suggested gently. Youre an adult; you need your own space.
Youre right. Ill consider it. Maybe Ill rent a flat.
I can help financially. I saved a bit.
Thanks, Mum.
They drank tea as the evening grew dark, the streetlights flickering on neighboring houses.
Margaret felt a weight lift. The nightmare had ended. The girl was gone, her son was with her, life returned to normal.
But she knew it was only temporary. Sooner or later Andrew would find another partner, want to marry, have children. The question of space would surface again.
Mum, what are you thinking about?
Nothing, just life.
Dont worry. Ill look for a flat, move out, live on my own. Ill visit you.
Visiting, Margaret smiled. Ill bake you cakesAs the first light of dawn slipped through the kitchen window, Margaret finally felt a quiet certainty that her home, her love, and her future were all hers to shape.
