The bell rang sharply, announcing an unexpected visitor. Margaret set aside her apron, wiped her hands, and made her way to the door. There stood her daughter, accompanied by a young man. She ushered them inside.
“Hello, Mum,” her daughter said, planting a kiss on her cheek. “This is Tom. Hes going to live with us.”
“Good evening,” the young man said politely.
“And this is my mum, Aunt Margaret.”
“Margaret Whitaker,” she corrected her daughter.
“Mum, whats for dinner?”
“Mashed peas and bangers.”
“I dont eat mashed peas,” the lad replied, kicking off his shoes and striding into the sitting room.
“But Mum, Tom wont touch peas,” the girl said, wide-eyed.
He flopped onto the sofa and tossed his rucksack onto the floor.
“This is actually my room,” Margaret remarked.
“Tom, come, Ill show you where well stay,” called Emily.
“I like it here,” he grumbled, reluctantly standing.
“Mum, think of something else Tom can eat.”
“I dont knowtheres half a pack of sausages left,” Margaret shrugged.
“Thatll do,” he declared. “Mustard, ketchup, and a bit of bread.”
“Fine,” Margaret sighed, heading to the kitchen. “First it was stray kittens and pups she dragged home, now this. And Im meant to feed him too.”
She served herself mashed peas, fried two sausages, added a bit of salad, and ate with quiet relish.
“Mum, why are you eating alone?” her daughter asked, appearing in the kitchen.
“Because Ive just come from work and Im hungry,” Margaret replied between bites. “If anyone else wants food, they can help themselves. And while were at itwhy is Tom moving in?”
“Why? Hes my husband.”
“What?! Your husband?”
“Thats right. Your daughters grown nowIm nineteen, after all. I dont need permission to marry.”
“But you didnt even invite me to the wedding.”
“There wasnt one. We just signed the papers at the registry. Now were man and wife, so well live together,” Emily said, watching her mother chew.
“Well, congratulations. But why no proper wedding?”
“If youve got money for a grand do, hand it overwell put it to good use.”
“Right,” Margaret said dryly, still eating. “But why here?”
“Because his flats crammed with four people already.”
“So renting somewhere never crossed your minds?”
“Why rent when Ive got a room here?” Emily asked, incredulous.
“Fair enough.”
“Can you give us something to eat?”
“Emily, the peas are on the stove, the bangers in the pan. If thats not enough, theres half a pack in the fridge. Help yourselves.”
“Mum, you dont get ityouve got a SON-IN-LAW now,” Emily emphasized.
“And? Shall I dance a jig? Ive just come from work, Im knackeredspare me the fanfare. Youve got hands and feetsort yourselves out.”
“No wonder youre still single!” Emily shot her a glare, stormed off, and slammed her door. Margaret finished her meal, washed up, wiped the table, and retreated. She changed, grabbed her gym bag, and left for her evening workouta routine she kept thrice weekly.
By ten, she returned, hoping for a cuppa. Instead, the kitchen was a shambles. Someone had attempted cookingthe pot lid was missing, the contents dried and cracked. Sausage wrappers littered the table beside a stale crust of bread. The frying pan was scorched, gouged with fork marks. Dirty dishes filled the sink, and a sticky puddle gleamed on the floor. The flat reeked of cigarettes.
“Well, this is new. Emily never dared such a mess.”
She pushed open her daughters door. The youngsters were drinking wine and smoking.
“Emily, clean the kitchen. And tomorrow, youll replace that pan,” Margaret ordered, turning away without shutting the door.
Emily leapt up and chased after her.
“Why should we clean? And where am I supposed to get money for a new pan? Im a student, not working. Is crockery more important than us?”
“Emily, you know the rules: you eat, you clean; you make a mess, you tidy it; you break it, you replace it. This is my housenot a free-for-all. And yes, that pan mattered. It wasnt cheap, and now its ruined.”
“You dont want us here,” her daughter accused.
“No,” Margaret said calmly.
She wasnt in the mood for a row, though Emily had never been so brazen before.
“But Ive a right to be here!”
“No, the flats minepaid for with my wages. Youre only registered here. Solve your problems on your own dime. If you stay, you follow my rules,” Margaret said evenly.
“Ive lived by your rules my whole life. Im married nowyou dont get to boss me anymore,” Emily retorted. “Besides, youve had your turnhand the flat over to us.”
“Gladlyyou can have the hallway bench outside. Married, are you? Didnt ask my blessing. You stay alone, or you and your husband find somewhere else. Hes not sleeping here,” Margaret said firmly.
“Keep your rotten flat! Tom, were leaving!” Emily yelled, flinging clothes into a bag.
Five minutes later, the so-called son-in-law staggered into Margarets room.
“Oi, Mum, no need for theatrics,” he slurred, swaying. “We wont bolt at midnight. Be nice, and well keep quiet after dark.”
“What Mum? Your parents are alivego home to them. And take your wife with you.”
“Yeah, Ill” He raised a fist, thrusting it near her face.
“Go on, then.”
Margaret seized his wrist with her manicured fingers, gripping hard.
“Ow! Let go, you mad cow!”
“Mum, what are you doing?” Emily shrieked, tugging at her.
Margaret shoved her aside, kneed Tom sharply, then drove an elbow into his throat.
“Ill report you for assault!” he howled.
“Wait, Ill call the policesave you the trouble,” Margaret shot back.
The pair fled the cosy two-bedroom flat.
“Youre not my mother anymore!” Emily cried. “Youll never see your grandchildren!”
“What a shame,” Margaret said drily. “Now I can finally enjoy my life.”
She examined her handsseveral nails had snapped.
“Nothing but trouble,” she muttered.
After theyd gone, she scrubbed the kitchen, binned the ruined peas and pan, and changed the locks. Three months later, she bumped into Emily at work. Her daughter looked gaunt, hollow-cheeked, and miserable.
“Mum, whats for dinner?” she asked.
“Dunno,” Margaret shrugged. “Havent decided. What dyou fancy?”
“Chicken and rice,” Emily said quietly.
“Right, lets fetch a chicken then,” Margaret replied. “You can make the salad yourself.”
