Mums fallen ill, and shes going to stay with us for a while. Youll need to look after her announced James to his wife, Rose.
Sorry, what? Rose let her phone, still open on the work group chat, fall gently onto the table.
James stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded across his chest, with a kind of finality that didnt leave room for argument, like he thought this was the only possible outcome.
I said, my mum will be living with us for a while. She needs constant care. The doctor thinks itll be at least two or three months, possibly longer.
Rose felt something squeeze inside her, slow and tight.
And when exactly did you decide this? she asked, keeping her voice steady.
This morning. I spoke with Emily and with the doctor. Its all sorted already.
Right. So the three of you sorted it between yourselves. And I just get to be informed and expected to agree, is that it?
James bristled a little, looking like hed been bracing for pushback but was still a bit taken aback that she wasnt simply rolling over.
Oh, Rose, come on. You know how it is. Its my mum who else is going to take her in? Emilys in Manchester with the kids and her job Weve got the space, and youre at home most days anyway
I work five days a week, James. Full time. Nine to seven, sometimes later. You know that as well as I do.
So? He shrugged, clearly not seeing her point. Mums not exactly a handful she just needs someone around. Give her her meds, heat up some food, help her to the loo You can manage, cant you?
Rose stared at her husband, feeling a weird numbness. Not anger not yet but more a cold clarity: he actually thought this was how things should be. That her job, her exhaustion, her free time all of that just faded, second fiddle to Mums needs.
And did any of you think about maybe hiring a carer? she asked quietly.
Jamess nose wrinkled. You know what that costs? Any good carer around here will run you upwards of two grand a month. Where are we pulling that from?
And the idea of you taking unpaid leave, or even going part-time for a bit did that come up? Rose pressed.
He looked at her as if shed just suggested he jump off the roof. Rose, my jobs demanding. Theyd never give me two months off. And anyway, Im not trained for this dont know how to do injections, check blood pressure, all that
And I do? Again, her voice stayed perfectly calm.
James hesitated properly, for the first time that evening. The conversation wasnt following his script.
Youre a woman, he said at last, so sure of himself it almost made Rose laugh, Youve got that instinct, you know? Always been better with the sick than me.
She nodded slowly, almost to herself.
So, an instinct.
Well yeah.
Rose placed her phone face down on the table. She looked at her hands, noticing the faintest tremor in her fingers.
All right, she said. Lets do this then: you take unpaid leave for two months. I keep working. Well share the care. Ill do what I can on evenings and weekends. Youll look after her during the day. Agreed?
James opened and then closed his mouth.
Rose are you being serious?
Completely.
But I told you theyd never let me off.
Then we get a carer. Im willing to split the cost, fifty-fifty, or even sixty-forty if you reckon my salarys lower. But Im not shouldering all this on top of my job. Im just not.
A heavy, dense silence settled in the sort where you can hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.
James cleared his throat.
So youre saying no?
No, Rose looked him squarely in the eyes, Im saying I wont be an unpaid, round-the-clock carer on top of full-time work without even so much as a conversation about it. Thats different.
He stared at her, as if unsure if she was joking or if shed truly just said what hed heard.
You get that shes my mum? he asked, now sounding wounded the deep, thick hurt of a grown man asked, perhaps for the very first time, to actually carry the weight of his own family.
I do, Rose replied, soft but steady. Which is why Im offering solutions that let all of us keep our dignity and our health. Including your mum.
James spun on his heel and left the kitchen. The lounge door thudded shut not slamming, but enough that you felt it.
Left at the table, Rose stared at the cooling tea in her mug. The same, simple phrase looped in her mind, calm and oddly detached: Well, thats it. Its started.
She knew it was only just beginning.
James would ring his sister next, then his mum, then probably Emily again. In an hour, she knew, his mother would turn up at the door she lived a ten-minute walk away and always had been in the know. She could already picture the heated conversation to come, the accusations cold, ungrateful, selfish, failing to understand what family means.
But what really struck Rose was how, for the first time, she understood something crucial: she wasnt about to keep apologising for wanting more than four hours of sleep a night. Or for treating her job as a job, not a hobby. Or for having nerves and vessels and a right to a life not reduced to endless rounds of hospital care.
She stood, walked to the window, and nudged it open.
The cold night air rushed in, tinged with the smell of rain-soaked roads and someones distant bonfire.
Rose breathed deeply.
They can say what they want, she thought, The important thing is Ive finally said my first no.
And this no was the loudest thing shed declared in twelve years of marriage.
The next morning, Rose woke to the sound of the front door opening. A key turned twice, careful, almost sheepish. Then slow, shuffling footsteps, and the kind of cough that comes with old age.
She lay still, listening as a coat was shrugged off in the hall, a bag set down, shoes eased off a familiar ballet, only now it sounded less like home and more like the prelude to a turf war.
Jamie? Her mother-in-law, Patricia, called out, her voice soft but still bossy. Are you home?
James who sounded like he hadnt slept a minute all night answered right away with forced cheer:
Im home, Mum. Kettles on.
Rose closed her eyes. He didnt even warn me hed bring her over this morning, she sighed internally.
She forced herself up, put on her dressing gown and headed into the hallway.
Patricia stood there, hunched and small in her old navy blue coat the one shed worn for years. In one hand, a carrier bag of medicines and a tartan flask. When she saw Rose, she managed a thin, tired smile, with that familiar undertone of superiority.
Good morning, Rosie. Sorry for barging in so early. The doctor said, the sooner I move in, the better.
Rose nodded.
Morning, Patricia.
James emerged from the kitchen with a tray: tea, crackers, a saucer holding tablets.
Mum, you go and settle in the big room. Ive made up the sofa-bed.
And wholl unpack everything? Patricias gaze flicked to Rose. Rosie, youll help me, wont you?
Rose felt the beginning of a pulsating headache at her temples.
Of course, she answered. After work.
After work? Patricias voice rose an octave. And whos supposed to stay with me today?
James coughed.
Im at work this morning, but Ill slip home for lunch. Rose… he turned hopefully, could you perhaps take a day off?
Rose looked at her husband. Long and hard.
Ive got a project presentation with a client today. I cant cancel.
And after that? Patricia asked, taking off her coat. Surely you can come home after that?
Ill be home at my usual time about seven, half seven.
Silence.
Patricia lowered herself down onto the hallway bench.
So, Ill just be here alone the whole day?
James shot his wife a look half pleading.
Rose responded calmly, voice level: Ill prepare all your meals for the day before I leave, Patricia. Your tablets will be set out and labelled by times. If anything happens, ring me. Even if Im in the meeting, Ill answer.
Patricia pressed her lips together.
And what if I fall? Or take the wrong meds?
Then call 999. Thats much better than waiting for me to get home from the other side of town.
James opened his mouth as if to speak, changed his mind.
Patricia looked over at her son.
Jamie did you hear all that?
Mum shes right, he said quietly, Were not doctors. If its serious, you need proper help.
Rose was startled. This was the first time in years hed said, out loud, Rose is right.
Patricia stood up carefully.
Right then. If thats how its done, so be it.
She hobbled into her room, trailing her bag behind; the door closed quietly.
James looked at Rose.
You could at least
No, interrupted Rose, I couldnt. And I wont.
She headed to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, drank in one gulp.
James approached.
Rose I know this is hard. But shes my mum.
I know.
And shes really not well.
I believe you.
Then why
Rose turned towards him.
Because if I take the lot on now, thatll become the new normal. Forever. Do you get that?
He said nothing.
I love you, she continued, and I dont want us to fall apart because one of us has decided the other person doesnt get to have a life.
James dropped his head.
Ill Ill speak to Emily again. Maybe she can come for weekends at least.
That would help.
He looked up.
You wont hate me for this?
Rose managed the tiniest smile first time in a day. I already do. But Im trying not to let it last for the rest of our lives.
He nodded.
Ill try to make it right.
Rose checked the time.
I need to get ready. My presentations in two hours.
She slipped away to the bedroom. James was left in the kitchen, staring into his empty mug.
The day went by surprisingly smoothly. Rose nailed her presentation; the client was impressed, even hinted at a bonus for her efforts. She left the office just past six-thirty, feeling, contrary to her worries, lighter in her heart.
On the tube, she texted James:
Hows your mum?
The reply came back almost at once:
Shes napping. Im home from three. Made dinner. Were waiting for you.
Rose looked at her reflection in the dark tube window.
Were waiting for you.
It had been a long time since those words had sounded like home.
And it was true they were waiting. On the dining table: salad, baked cod, roast potatoes. Patricia sat in the armchair with a book. When she saw Rose come in, she put her novel aside.
Rosie youre back.
Back.
Come, eat. Jamie did it all himself. Even the dishes.
Rose looked at James.
He shrugged as if to say, it was nothing.
She sat down.
Patricia coughed delicately.
Ive been thinking maybe it would be a good idea to look for a carer, at least in the daytime. Jamies having to keep running out of work
Rose raised her eyes, slowly.
That would be sensible.
Ill ring Emily, James added. Maybe she can chip in too. She said shed think it over.
Patricia sighed.
Never thought Id see the day an outsider would be changing my pads
No ones an outsider, Mum, James said gently. Were family. We just all need our own space too, now.
Rose looked at her mother-in-law.
Patricia hesitated, but nodded.
I suppose its about time I learned.
Just then, Patricias mobile buzzed.
She glanced at the screen, sighed.
Your sister Emily.
James picked up.
Hi, Mum Yeah, were home Listen, we could do with your help. Not just money. Could you come at the weekend? Well all talk together.
He hung up.
Looked at Rose.
Shell come.
Rose nodded slowly.
Good.
For the first time in years, she realised she was no longer dreading coming home.
Not because it was quiet, but because, at last, someone was listening.
Three weeks went by.
Patricia was coughing less at night. Her medicine was kicking in, the swelling in her legs was down, and she even managed making tea for herself a couple of times. More importantly the house felt calmer. Not with that leaden hush of people afraid to speak, but the easy hush of grown-ups learning how to work things out.
On Saturday morning, Emily arrived from Manchester.
She came in with two big holdalls, her little girl on her hip, and an apologetic smile.
Mum, hi Rose, James Sorry it took so long for me to sort everything.
Patricia, sat by the window in her armchair, twisted slowly to look as if afraid the moment would vanish.
You made it then.
Course I did, Emily put down her bags, handed her daughter to James, and went straight to her mother. I promised, didnt I?
Rose stood quietly in the kitchen doorway, observing, not interrupting.
Emily crouched in front of the chair.
Mum, Jamie and I had a long chat last night. And heres what weve come up with
She produced a folded sheet from her coat pocket.
Its an ad. A carer with nursing background. Comes nine to seven, Monday to Friday. At weekends were here ourselves.
Patricia took the paper, her hands trembling, and read. Looked at her son.
And the money?
Well split the cost three ways, James replied, steady as ever. Me, you, and Rose. Evenly.
Evenly Patricia repeated, like she was tasting the word to see if she liked it.
Emily nodded.
Mum, we cant just leave work for months on end. You need proper care; that costs. So its only fair we all contribute.
For the first time, Rose spoke.
Weve set it up already. Her names Helen Fisher. Shes fifty-eight, loads of experience looking after people who are ill or struggling to get by on their own. Shell come round to meet you tomorrow.
Patricia stayed silent for some time.
When she finally looked at Rose properly, without the old suspicion she said, Rose You could have just said no and walked away. Plenty would have.
Rose shrugged, just a little.
I could have. But everyone would have suffered for it. You most of all.
Patricias gaze dropped to her hands.
Ive been thinking these weeks. While Ive been sitting here alone. I always thought that being a mother meant everyone else had to. she struggled with the words, had to adapt around me. Turns out, Im the one whos got to learn how to adapt now.
Emily reached out and took her mums hand.
No ones forcing you, Mum. Just live so it works for all of us.
Patricia looked at her daughter, her son, then Rose once more.
Sorry, Rosie, she murmured, almost too quietly. I really did believe I had the right to make demands.
Rose felt something loosen inside, something tight and sore at last beginning to let go.
I accept your apology, Patricia.
For the first time in ages, Patricia managed a smile small, no trace of that old superiority.
Then lets meet this Helen of yours. And Ill try to remember Im not the queen of the castle round here anymore.
James grinned light, for the first time in weeks.
Not the queen, not God. Just our mum. And we love you. Well look after you but well do it like real people.
That evening, after Emily and her daughter caught their train, and Patricia was asleep in her room, Rose and James sat in the kitchen in gentle lamp light.
He poured them both some red wine.
You know, he said, quiet, I was convinced youd leave.
Rose glanced at him, surprised.
Really?
Yeah. When you said no that first night, I thought it was all over youd pack up and just say, Get on with it yourselves.
She spun the glass thoughtfully.
I nearly did. Honestly.
What kept you?
Rose didnt answer straight away.
After a while she said, I realised that if I left now, Id never find out if you could become the kind of man who shoulders responsibility not just talks about it.
James looked down.
Ive learnt a lot these past few weeks. Still am.
I know. She responded.
He looked up at her.
Thank you for giving me the chance.
She smiled, soft and gentle.
Thank you for taking it.
They clinked glasses quiet, but with a feeling of ceremony.
Outside, snow was falling, properly for the first time that winter. Fat flakes drifted in the glow of the streetlamps, blanketing the road in softness.
In Patricias room a night lamp gleamed gently.
And for the first time in ages, their own bedroom smelled not of medicines or worry, but of home. Their home.
