My husbands parents decided, without consulting me, to move in with us in their old age.
James, are you even hearing what Im saying? my wife Ethel shouted, clutching the receiver until her knuckles went white. Your mother just called theyre selling the house! Selling it, James! And they plan to be here in a month!
James lounged on the settee, tablet in hand, and slowly lifted his eyes.
Ethel, calm down. Its not tomorrow. A month is plenty of time. Besides, theyre not moving into our onebed flat; theyre just coming to the town.
What town? Ethel paced, slipping over their son Arthurs scattered toys. Mabel Bennett said outright, Well stay with you for a while while we look for somewhere else. A while how long is that? A year? Two? We have only forty square metres, James! Forty! Theres me, Arthur, and two pensioners with their habits, ailments and trunks!
James set the tablet aside and rubbed his nose. He looked the part of a man whose thoughts on world affairs were constantly interrupted by petty domestic crises.
Im not going to kick them out onto the street. Theyre old, its hard for them out in the village a big house, a garden, snow to clear. Fathers back gave way last year, Mothers blood pressure is terrible. They need care, and were the ones next door.
Care? Ethel retorted. Mabel is sixtyfive and still works for the parish council, tending the garden like a tractor. Albert is seventy, walks twenty kilometres to fish. What care? Theyve simply decided theyre bored and want to be closer to the children, yet they never asked us.
Ethel, stop this hysteria. Theyre my parents. I owe them. Well figure something out. Maybe a shortterm flat for them.
A flat? Were paying a mortgage, nursery fees, a car loan. After salaries were left with about three thousand pounds a month. What flat?
Maybe the house sale will bring in money
The house is in a remote village three hundred miles from anywhere. How much will they get? A million? In this city that sum would only buy a garage or a shed on the outskirts. Do you realise they intend to stay forever?
Ethel slumped into her armchair, watching the disaster unfold in slow motion. Mabel was a forceful, loud woman who liked to command; Albert was quiet but stubborn, a habit of smoking his Primo cigarettes and blasting radio at full volume because his hearings gone. Their tiny, wellworn flat had only one sanctuary for Ethel the bathroom, which doubled as a washroom.
I wont let them live here, she said quietly but firmly. Visitors, fine. A week, fine. Living permanently, no.
James glowered at her.
Youre cruel, Ethel. Its family.
This is my family you, me, and Arthur. Ill protect it.
The following month was a blur of dread and waiting. Ethel tried to reason with James, suggesting they ask the parents to sell the house, stash the proceeds in a bank, scout for a place, and rent somewhere temporary. James brushed it off: Mum said theres already a buyer and the deposits paid.
Mabel called daily.
Ethel dear, Im sorting the pickles cucumbers, tomatoes, relish. Well bring them all over! Arthur loves Grandmas cucumbers, doesnt he? Ive even taken my downfeather comforter for your couch, and that red rug you remember. Your floor is bare, cold for the lad. Lets lay the rug itll look lovely!
Ethel felt her hair grey at the thought of a rug and a comforter in their Scandinavianstyle minimal flat.
Mabel, we have heated floors. We dont have room for that many pickles.
Oh, well find space! Put them on the balcony! A rug adds coziness. You young folk just dont get it.
The Dday arrived on a Saturday. James was frazzled from dawn, shuffling furniture to create any breathing room. Arthur was sent to his grandmothers house to keep him out of the way.
At noon a van rolled up the drive. Albert, spry with a walking stick, and Mabel, bossing the movers like a general, tumbled out.
Careful with the crockery! Dont break the seedling boxes!
Ethel stared out the window, counting boxes ten, twenty, thirty bags, bundles, an old floor lamp, a pair of skis, and the rolledup red rug.
James, where will we put all this? she whispered.
Well manage, he muttered, hurrying to meet them.
For two hours the hallway turned into a storeroom. Boxes crowded the corridor, the kitchen, the bedroom. Mabel, never taking off her shoes, paced the flat, directing everything.
This wardrobe needs moving. Put my oak chest here its solid, not your particle board.
Which chest? Ethel pleaded. We have no space!
Youll find it! Dont throw it away.
By evening the flat resembled a warehouse. The only room Ethel had lovingly divided into bedroom and playroom was now a chaos of sofas and a mismatched TV perched on a sideboard, blocking half of the picture.
Now we can at least live, Mabel declared, wiping sweat from her brow. Its cramped, but cramped is better than bitter.
Dinner was tense. Albert sipped tea loudly, Mabel scolded Ethels soup for being too watery, and James stared at his plate, unwilling to meet his wifes eyes.
So, Mabel began, pushing an empty cup aside, weve sold the house, the moneys in the account. We wont buy anything yet prices are skyhigh, agents are rogues. Well stay with you, look around, maybe pick a cottage. No objections?
Ethel opened her mouth to protest, but James beat her to it.
Of course, Mum. Stay as long as you need.
Ethel kicked his foot under the table, but he didnt flinch.
The everyday grind began. Mornings at six, Albert shuffled to the loo, then the kitchen, turned on the Shanson radio and smoked by the open window despite Ethels hundred pleas.
Albert, could you smoke on the landing, please? she coughed.
Its cold up there, love. Ill just puff here.
At seven Mabel stormed the kitchen, declaring, Porridge in water isnt food! James needs strength, he works. The smell of fried bacon filled the flat, staining curtains, walls, and Ethels conscience for her healthconscious habits.
Evenings brought relentless inspections.
Ethel, why havent you ironed the sheets? Theyre all crumpled! Mabel snapped, having already pressed them herself.
Thanks, but please stop rummaging through my wardrobe, Ethel replied, voice trembling.
Mabel huffed, Im only helping, you ungrateful girl.
Arthur, five, was bombarded with sweets, cartoons till midnight, and a lax discipline that left Ethel near collapse.
Two weeks later Ethel reached her limit. In the bathroom the only private sanctuary she pleaded, James, this cant go on. Theyve moved my flowers into their pots!
Hold on, Ethel. Ill speak to them this weekend.
You promised a week ago! James snapped. Either they move out, or Im taking Arthur to my mothers.
James paled; he disliked ultimatums but knew she meant business.
The Sunday lunch that followed was a showdown.
Mom, Dad, James began, fidgeting with a napkin, Ethel and I think we should start looking for a flat. Prices are rising, our money is draining, and its getting cramped for all of us.
Mabel froze, soup spoon midway to her mouth, while Albert turned the radio down.
Cramped? she echoed, voice shaking. Are we bothering you? We cook, we clean, we look after the grandson! Why are you pushing us out?
No ones pushing you out, James said gently. Just… each of us needs our own space. You wanted a separate home, didnt you?
Yes, but we thought we could save money, give you a legacy. We could live together, like a big family.
Ethels voice rose. We cant live together. Different routines, your smoking, the TV blaring. I cant sleep with a screen in my face or breathe the smoke.
Mabel threw her spoon down, splashing soup.
Ungrateful lot! We sold the house, gave up everything to be near you! she cried. Pack up! Well go to a hotel or the station!
Albert looked bewildered. To the station? At night?
Mabel sobbed, clutching her bag, while James pleaded, Please, lets find a twobed flat nearby. Youll be guests, not housemates.
The argument climaxed, but by evening they reached a compromise. James secured a vacant twobed flat in the adjoining block through a friend. The parents would move there for a few months while they sorted a permanent place.
The next day Mabel shuffled out, looking like a martyr headed to the gallows.
Leave us in peace, she hissed, and maybe well visit, but never live here again.
The door shut. Ethel collapsed against the wall, the flat finally quiet no TV, no bacon scent, no smoke.
James sat beside her, apologetic. I was a fool. I should have insisted from the start.
Ethel smiled weakly. No regret now. We defended our home.
A week later Mabel called, bright and businesslike.
Weve found a threebed flat in the same neighbourhood, a modern build. Its a terraced house, perfect for us.
James laughed. Terraced house? Weve got a twobed flat already.
Mabel replied, Weve paid the deposit from the house sale and the land share. Its settled.
Ethel exhaled, relief washing over her.
The new flat needed renovations. The parents still drifted to Ethels place for a wash, a wash, or simply to sit because they were bored. Ethel endured, reminding herself it was temporary.
Three months later the work finished. Ethel and James arrived with a multicooker as a housewarming gift. The flat was bright and spacious.
Come in, dears! Look at our new home! Mabel beamed, leading them through the living room, the bedroom, and finally the smallest room, wallpapered with tiny cars.
Whats this? Ethel asked, peering inside.
Its for Arthur! Mabel declared. Well take him to our fulltime care. Hell stay with us, and you can focus on your careers.
Ethel felt the ground vanish.
Take Arthur out of his nursery? He has friends, a prep class, a routine. He lives with us.
Mabel huffed, Hell be better with grandparents! Weve bought a bed, toys. Youre always shouting at him.
What? Youve taken his toys? Ethel snapped, seeing Arthurs beloved robots on the shelves.
No, we borrowed the keys James gave us! Mabel protested.
James turned beetred.
Mabel, give the keys back now.
No! Its my home too! Im a mother!
Enough! James shouted, causing Albert to drop the remote. Youve crossed every line! You cant take our child!
Mabel, terrified, flung a bundle of keys onto the nightstand.
Take him and leave! We dont want you here!
Ethel grabbed Arthurs hand, James hoisted the multicooker, and they fled. In the lift, Arthur whined, Mum, why did Grandma shout? I wanted to keep playing.
Ethel soothed him, Grandmas tired, love. Well go home, to our home.
That evening they changed the locks.
Six months later the relationship settled into a chilly, polite distance. They called on holidays, met occasionally in the park, but the grandparents only saw Arthur when the parents were present.
Mabel spread the tale among the neighbours, painting Ethel as a villain who turned her son against his grandparents. Ethel heard it, but cared little.
Life at home grew quiet again. Evenings were spent at their modest kitchen, laughing over the days events, free from unsolicited cooking lessons or unsolicited advice on raising a child.
One night James asked, Do you ever regret how harsh we were?
Ethel looked at him, smiled, and shook her head. No. I only wish wed done it sooner. Family is what we make of it, and we must guard our space from any intrusion, even those wearing the mask of parental love.
James embraced her. Youre right. My dad called yesterday, proud that I stood up for us. He said hed spent his whole life under his mothers thumb and now wishes hed set boundaries earlier.
Ethel nodded. Sometimes saying no earns respect.
The red rug never returned; it stayed with Mabel in her new flat, where it finally had a place. In our lives, there was simply no room for old rugs any more.
