My mother-in-law suggested we move into her flat, though I could tell she had her own reasons.
“Thank you so much for the offer. Thats extremely generous. But well have to decline,” I said.
Her face dropped.
“And whys that? Are you too proud?” she asked.
“No, its not pride. Its justwere settled. Changing schools halfway through the year is tough on the kids. Were used to it here. Weve just had everything refurbished, all brand new.”
“And in your place…” Charlotte paused, searching for the right words, but then just laid it out plainly. “Youve got all those memories, precious old things. The children are littletheyll break or mess something up. Why would we put ourselves through that?”
When Charlotte got home from work, I was waiting in the hallway for her. She slipped off her shoes, walked into the bedroom without a word, changed clothes, then headed to the kitchen. I quietly trailed behind.
She couldnt hold it in any longer.
“Are you going to start again? I already said: no!”
I sighed.
“Mum rang again today,” I said. “Shes complaining about her high blood pressure. Its getting difficult for her thereGranddad and Grandma arent well at all, acting like kids. She cant manage them alone.”
“So what?” Charlotte took a sip of cold water, trying to cool her rising irritation. “She chose life at the cottage. She rents the flat, gets her money, fresh air. She liked it.”
“She liked it while she was fit enough. Now she keeps complaining its lonely and hard. Anyway…” I took a breath. “Shes offered us her three-bed flat.”
Charlotte stared at me and snapped, “No.”
“Why immediately no? You havent even listened!” I threw up my hands. “Lookthe areas perfect. Fifteen minutes from your office, twenty from mine. The school across the road is one of those language specialists; the nurserys just downstairs. Wed never be stuck in traffic again!”
“And we could rent this place out, let the mortgage pay itself off. Wed even have some left over.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Charlotte stepped up to me. “Weve been here two and a half years. I decided where every single socket would go! The kids have mates upstairs. At last, were truly at home. Ours!”
“What does it matter where you live if you only come home to sleep? Two hours home from work every night!” I shot back. “That flat is a period property, three-metre ceilings, thick walls, you cant hear the neighbours.”
“And the last time it was done up was when I was in school,” Charlotte retorted. “Remember that smell? And, more importantly, its not ours; its Judiths flat.”
“Mum says she wont interfere. Shell stay at the cottagejust likes knowing the flats looked after.”
Charlotte let out a bitter laugh.
“John, is your memory like a goldfish? Remember how we bought this place.”
I looked away. Of course I remembered. Seven years renting bedsits, saving every pound. When we finally scraped together the deposit, Id gone to Mum. The plan was perfect: swap her massive three-bed in central London for a nice two-bed for her, and somewhere good for us.
Judith nodded, smiled, told us, “Of course, darlings, you need more space.”
Wed already found flats. We were dreaming. Then, on the day we were to see the agent, she rang up.
“Do you remember what she said?” Charlotte pressed on. “Ive thought about it My areas so posh, the neighbours are all professionals. Why would I swap it all for some new-build among the riff-raff? No, not interested.”
So we went to the bank, took out a monstrous mortgage, and bought this place five miles outside the North Circular. By ourselves. With no posh square footage from her.
“She was just scared of change, her age and all,” I muttered. “Now she says shes just lonely, wants the grandchildren nearby.”
“Grandchildren? She sees them once a month when we arrive with groceries. And after half an hour, shes sighing that their noise gives her a headache.”
Our six-year-old, Archie, came charging into the kitchen, followed by four-year-old Beth.
“Mum! Dad! Were hungry!” Archie shouted. “And Beth broke my plane! I spent three hours building it and she smashed it”
“Did not!” Beth squeaked. “It fell by itself!”
Charlotte exhaled. “Right, hands washed, its supper time. Dad, did you make pasta?”
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “And sausages.”
While the children thumped their chairs about and Charlotte dished out the food, the row paused. But the topic came back as we lay in bed that night.
***
Saturday, we had to drive down to the cottageJudith rang early, weakly complaining Dad was out of medicine and her heart was playing up. The drive took an hour and a half. Judith greeted us on the porch. At sixty-three, she looked marvellous: hair done, nails gleaming, silken scarf tied jauntily around her neck.
“Oh, you made it,” she said, proffering a cheek for a kiss. “Charlotte, dear, have you gained weight, or is that just the blouse?”
“Hello to you too, Judith. The blouse is loose,” Charlotte replied, immune to the jab.
We went in. In the lounge, her parentsfrail and drowsing before the tellybarely looked up.
“Tea?” Judith called as she headed into the kitchen. “Theres some biscuits a bit stale, mind, I cant get to the shops much, with my legs.”
“We brought cake,” I said, setting down the box. “Mum, lets talk about the flat offer”
Judith perked up immediately.
“Yes, John. I cant cope anymore. Lovely as it is here, and the airs fresh, but they need tending to, and honestly the winters are dreadful. The flats just sitting therestrangers living in it, wrecking everything. It breaks my heart!”
“Mum, your tenants are decent peoplea family,” I cut in.
“Decent?!” she sniffed. “Last time I popped in, the curtain was wonky and the place smelled wrongnot mine.”
“So why are you stuck out there, when you could be comfortable? Come back,” she said. “Plenty of room for all of you.”
Charlotte exchanged a look with me.
“And where would you live, Judith?” she asked, straight out.
Judith lifted an eyebrow. “Where else? Here, obviously. With my parents. But maybe sometimes Id pop backfor check-ups, or the doctors. All my GPs know me at our old surgery.”
“How often would that be, then?” Charlotte pressed on.
“Oh, perhaps a couple of times a week. Or a week at a stretch if the weathers bad. Ill keep my roommy bedroom. Dont put the kids in there, let them use the larger room. Leave my room alone. You never know.”
Charlottes eyes narrowed.
“Let me get this straightyoure offering us a three-bedroom flat, but were to keep one room locked up for you and live as a four in two rooms?”
“Why lock it?” Judith said. “Use itjust dont touch my things. Or the china cabinet. The crystals in there. And my books. John, Ive told youthe library is not to be meddled with!”
I shifted uncomfortably.
“Mum, if we did move in, wed need to sort out bedrooms for the kids, get proper beds…”
“Why bother buying beds? Theres the old fold-out sofayour father bought it, still good as new. Waste of money otherwise!”
Charlotte stood up.
“John, can we step outside?”
She walked onto the porch, not even waiting. I hurried after, glancing apologetically at the kitchen door.
“Did you hear that?” Charlotte hissed. “‘Dont touch the sofa’, my room, Ill come by whenever I want. You get what this means?”
“Charlotte, shes just afraid of change”
“No, John! Wed be unpaid caretakers! Not even allowed to move a wardrobe! Shed turn up with her own key whenever, telling me how to hang the curtains, stir a soup, make the beds!”
“But itd be closer for work,” I triedweakly.
“I couldnt care less about work. Id rather sit in traffic for two hours, but know Ill come home to my own place, where Im in charge.”
I went quiet, looking down at my shoes. She was right, and I knew it. The urge for an easy fix had fogged my mind.
“And another thing,” Charlotte crossed her arms. “Remember how she stitched us up beforewouldnt swap because prestige mattered more. Now shes just lonelywants us around to keep her entertained and nagged.”
At that very moment, the door banged open. Judith stood in the doorway.
“What are you two whispering about?”
Charlotte turned to her. “We dont want to put you out. We wont be moving in.”
“Dont be silly,” Judith scoffed. “John, say somethingyour wife decides everything and you just nod?”
I looked at her. “Mum, Charlottes right,” I said firmly. “We arent moving in. We have our own home.”
Judith pursed her lipsshe knew shed lost, but wouldnt admit it.
“Fine, have it your way. I was only trying to help. Live as you wish. Sit in your traffic. Just dont come complaining later.”
“We wont,” I promised. “Well be off, Mum. Anything else you needmedicines, anything?”
“Nothing from you, thanks,” she said pointedly, turning back inside and slamming the door.
We drove home in silence. The traffic had eased on the way into town, though the satnav was glowing red near our estate.
“Are you angry?” Charlotte asked as we sat at the red light.
I shook my head. “No. I just pictured Archie bouncing on Dads old sofa, Mum keeling over with a heart attack. Youre rightit was a dreadful idea.”
“Im not against helping, John,” she said gently, resting a hand on my knee. “If she needs it, well get her food, medicines. Well hire a carer if it comes to that. But well live separately. Distance is the secret to a good relationship.”
“Especially with my mum,” I smirked.
***
Of course, Judith harboured a grudge. Turns out, shed already given the tenants notice, certain wed move in. For nearly a month, she plagued me with phone calls.
But I stuck to my gunsturns out, its not hard to say no when you have to.
