My Mother-in-Law Demanded A Spare Set Of Keys To Our Flat But My Husband Took My Side
That lock looks a bit flimsy, doesnt it? Are you certain its secure? Burglars these days are absolutely brazen, they could pick that with a fingernail, and look at all your lovely gadgets in herenot to mention the new decor remarked the woman in a rather severe beige trench coat, inspecting our shiny new metal front door with a manicured nail.
Emily took a deep breath, trying to ensure it didnt sound like an obvious sigh of frustration. She exchanged a look with her husband, who at that very moment was struggling to peel the protective film from the peephole. Tom, catching Emilys gaze, gave her the tiniest shrughang in there, its just my mum in body language.
Its a fantastic lock, Mrs Martin, Emily replied calmly, opening the door wider and waving her mother-in-law inside. Its Italian, top security rating. We did lots of research and even got some expert advice. Theres an alarm going in next month, too. Come in, please, dont stand in the draught.
It was Veronica Martins first ever visit to their new flat. Theyd slogged through five long years to get herefive years in rented places, never allowed to put up a picture without asking, five years pinching pennies, sacrificing holidays and extra cappuccinos for the deposit. At last, the mortgage had come through, the keys were theirs, and the endless, sanity-straining renovations were actually over. This was their haven, their tiny kingdomevery tile in the bathroom, every wallpaper shade, chosen through heated debate and real affection.
Veronica swept into the hallway, shot the pale walls a look of suspicion, eyed the fitted wardrobe as if it might bite her, and pursed her lips.
Shows every mark, that will, she declared, handing her coat to Tom. You’ll be forever mopping and scrubbing, Emily. I told you: floral vinyl wallpapernever shows a thing. But still, your house, your rules, I suppose.
Emily kept silent. She knew better than to argue. Veronica Martin was one of those who saw her opinions as the only lighthouse in life’s stormand any variation from her wisdom a sign of either gross ignorance or unconscious spite.
It took about an hour for Veronica to poke her nose into every room. She turned on the bathroom taps to check the water pressure, felt the bedroom curtains and sniffed at them (Pure polyesterstuffy as anything), and examined the fridge like a surprise hygiene inspector. Tom trailed along, smiling and nodding, bending over backwards to be a peacemaker. Emily quietly set the table, feeling her nerves quietly fray. This wasnt going to end at tea and Victoria spongeshe could sense it. A storm was brewing.
Once everyone was sat round the kitchen table and Tom poured the tea, Veronica, after taking a delicate nibble of her cake, made her move.
The flats nice. Spacious, she began, dabbing at a crumb. But I do worry, Tom. Youre young, youve got a lot going on, always out and about. New plumbing, new wiringwho knows what could go wrong? Burst pipe, left the iron on
Mum, come off it, Tom grinned, the iron switches itself off automatically. And our pipes are welded plastic, theyre indestructible.
Belt and braces, darling! Veronica tapped her finger for emphasis. Look at what happened to my neighbour, Mrs Jenkinsher son went away on holiday, the radiator sprung a leak, and half the block flooded! If she hadnt had a spare key, theyd have had to break down the door. Hideously expensive! So, its simpleyou really ought to drop off a set of keys for me.
Emilys teacup froze midway to her lips. Suddenly, her brew tasted like tepid water. She put the cup down, gently, to avoid rattling the saucer. Here it wasthe moment shed dreaded.
Why, Mrs Martin? Emily asked, quietly but firmly, meeting her mother-in-laws gaze.
What dyou mean, why? Veronica looked genuinely surprised. As a precaution, of course! What if you lose your keys? Or the door slams behind you? Or you go on holidaywholl water the plants, dust the shelves, defrost the fridge? I dont mind stopping by, heaven knows Ive got plenty of time since retiring.
Images crashed into Emilys head. Their last flatVeronica had persuaded Tom to give her the keys just for a week while they visited Emilys family. Shed blitzed the place, rearranged Emilys underwear drawer properly (i.e., Veronicas idea of properly), moved the saucepans, and her private diaryneatly hidden awaywas left open on the table. Only dusted, didnt read it, not bothered, Veronica had insisted, though her pointed comments in the months following told a different story.
Thank you for your concern, Mrs Martin, but well manage ourselves, Emily replied in her best even voice. We only have a cactus at the moment, needs watering about once a month. And if we lose our keys, well call a locksmith. Its quite straightforward these days.
An icy mask slid across Veronicas face.
A locksmith? Letting strange men in? Wasting money? Emily, I always knew you were the splurging sort. Heres me, your own mother-in-law, offering help for free! Tom, say something! This isnt just about keys, its about safety!
Tom nearly choked on his tea. He loathed these momentsbeing squeezed between the two leading women in his life. He looked from his mum to Emily. Emilys eyes said a cold, clear no.
Mum, honestly, its such a trek for you. You live all the way in Finchley, were up here in Richmond. It takes two hours to get here, one way. I work twenty minutes from homeI could get here faster than you, if anything went wrong.
Thats not the point! Veronica flapped her hands. Its a matter of trust! What, do you think Id burgle you? Or snoop? Im your mother! I just want peace of mind for my son. And you, Tomyou always take your wifes side. Thats called being henpecked!
Mrs Martin, lets keep things civil, Emily said, cheeks burning. Nobodys suggesting youre a thief. Its just about personal boundaries. This is our home. Our family. We want to feel fully in charge here. Knowing someone else, even a close relative, has keyswell, it takes that away.
Boundaries! Veronica repeated, scandalised. What ridiculous ideas! What boundaries can there be with your own mother? Tom, I changed your nappies till you were five, and now you talk about personal space! Disrespectful, thats what it is. Dont trust your own mother
With great drama, she pushed her unfinished cake away. Appetite completely spoiled, apparently.
Im not asking for keys now, she said, shifting to a martyred tone. Just have copies made this week, bring them roundor Ill collect them. No rush. I just need the peace of mind. Blood pressure, you knowits not helped by worry.
The evening limped along under a blanket of tension. Veronica stopped smiling, replied in monosyllables, and soon made to leave. At the doorway, she gave them both a long, meaningful look and stage-whispered, Take your time, but pride never did anyone any favours.
Once the door closed, Emily sagged against the wall.
Tom, you do know Im never giving her the keys? Not in a million years, she muttered.
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose.
Em, she just worries. Its a generational thing. For her, controlling things is an act of love. We could give her a copyshell pop it in a tin under her bed and forget about it. No more drama.
Youre joking? Emily gaped. Have you forgotten the last time? She let herself in at 7am on a Saturdayclaiming she thought we were at workcame right into the bedroom and started making soup in the kitchen! Tom, I want the freedom to wander around in my pants, leave a mug in the sink if I feel like it, without worrying your mum will pop in and judge me. This is our house. Our rules.
I know, Tom sighed. But shell guilt-trip me for ages. You know what shes like.
She can guilt-trip all she likes. But Im not giving her the keys. And if you do it behind my back, Tom, Ill change the locks. I mean it.
The next week felt like an endurance trial. Veronica rang Tom every single day. Shed start with the weather (raining, as always), segue into her health (palpitations, aching knees), and always finish with, So, have you done the keys yet?
Tom made excuseshe was busy, the key shop was shut, hed forgotten to bring the originals. He stalled, hoping shed let it drop, but Veronica Martin had teeth like a terrier.
By Thursday, she phoned Emily directly.
Hello, Emily, my lovely! How are you? Hows work?
Hello, Mrs Martin. All good, thank you.
I was at St Barnabas earlier, lit a candle for your new home. The vicar said it really ought to be blessedand you should hang a charm over the door. Ive bought one, very special. Ill bring it tomorrowToms working, I know. You could give me a key, or leave it with the concierge. Ill pop in, hang it up, say a prayer, and slip away. No need to wait in.
Emilys knuckles went white gripping the phone.
Thank you, Mrs Martin, but well hang it up ourselves, if we decide to. Im not leaving a key out. Come tomorrow evening, if you likewell have you round for tea and you can give it to us then.
Why are you so stubborn? The warmth dropped away from Veronicas voice. Im only ever trying to help, and you justare you poisoning my son against me? Is this your idea? He used to be so soft-hearted before he met you!
Its a joint decision, Mrs Martin. Were adults, Emily replied.
Adults! Youre barely out of school. I know how the world works! If I dont have those keys by the weekend, youre telling me you dont trust me. Well, fineIll keep out of your way forever, then!
Click. Emily stared at her phone, hands trembling. Emotional blackmaila classic.
That evening, Tom came home looking thunderous.
Mum called, he huffed, not even taking his shoes off. She cried, said shed had a blood pressure crisis, called the ambulancesaid well be the death of her. Em, maybe we shouldjust give her the damn keys? Ill be firm, tell her no dropping by unannounced. Its not worth this much grief.
Emily hugged him, helping with his coat.
I know your heart aches, Tom. But think about it: if we cave in now, this never ends. Todays the keystomorrow itll be curtains, next week, how we raise future kids. High blood pressure is classic emotional manipulation. If we back down from pity or guilt, well lose our own family boundaries. Is that what you want?
Tom buried his face in her hair. Youre right. Ill think of something.
Saturday dawnedfinally, a chance for a lazy lie-in, homemade lasagne, a film marathon. Naturally, at ten on the dot, the intercom buzzed.
Whos there? Tom mumbled, bleary eyed.
Its Mum! Open up, Ive brought goodies! came Veronicas chipper reply.
Tom and Emily exchanged weary glances. No call, no warningjust, Here I am!
We did not agree to this Emily hissed.
We cant leave her on the doorstep, Tom groaned.
Veronica swept into the kitchen like the Queen arriving at a garden party, bearing two gargantuan shopping bags.
Here you arepotatoes from the allotment, pickles, homemade jam, she said, unloading jars with authority. Otherwise, youd be living off those chemical-laden supermarket things. Goodnessthere are last nights plates still in the sink, Emily! I thought every decent housewife kept it spotless!
Emily, in a bathrobe, took a calming breath.
Were relaxing, Mrs Martin. Its the weekend. The washing-up gets done when we feel like it.
Well! Laziness was invented before you, clearly, she scoffed. Anyway, thats not why I came. Tom, come here.
Tom sloped in, scratching his head.
Here you are, Mum.
Veronica fished a tiny velvet pouch from her handbag.
This. I bought a blessed silver keyring for yousays ‘God Bless This Home.’ Id like it for your keys. The ones for me, when youve had those copies done. Did you get around to it?
She looked at Tom with unshakeable expectation. In person, laden with gifts and full of affection, saying no felt a hundred times harder.
Tom glanced from his mother to Emily, who stood by the window, arms folded. She wasnt getting involvedthis battle was his to fight. If he caved in, shed never leave him, but the bedrock of respect would crack. The sense of safety at home would vanish.
Tom sat down at the table, took his mums hand.
Mum, thanks for the food. And the keyring. But therell be no keys.
Veronicas eyes went wide.
Excuse me? You must be joking.
No, Mum. Im serious. Emily and I talked, and there are only two sets. One each. No spares.
But WHY? After all Ive said! This is about safety! About caring! Im your mother!
Because youre my mumnot a security guard, Tom replied, voice stronger. It hit him: the world didnt stop turning just because he had said no. Mum, I love you. Youre welcome here, alwayswith an invitation. Please, just ring first. But we need to live our own lives, fully, with all that comes with it. If we have a leak, well pay the bill. If we lose the keys, well call a locksmith. This is what being grown-up means.
Veronica jerked her hand away, cheeks mottled.
Shes brainwashed you! These are her words! she snapped, jabbing a finger at Emily. Youd never have treated me like this before. Youve betrayed your own mother!
No, I havent, Tom replied calmly. Emily is my wife. This is our family. Please have some respect for our decisions. If you cant, well have to see each other less. I dont want that, but youre forcing my hand.
A rather magnificent silence fell, broken only by the hum of the fridge. For a long moment, Veronica looked her son up and downas if trying, for the first time, to see who he really was. Searching for the easygoing boy shed always known, and instead, finding a man defending his home.
She stood up, slowly.
Fine, she said, icy but dignified. Fine. Flood your own flat, lose your own keys. But dont come running to me for help. Consider me off duty.
She grabbed her bagleaving the jars behindand strode to the hallway. Tom went to follow, but she waved him off.
No need. I can see myself out. Not completely past it.
The door slammed.
Emily sat on Toms lap and wrapped her arms around him.
You were brilliant, she murmured. Thank you.
I feel like a traitor, Tom admitted, staring at the closed door. It hurts.
It will pass. This isnt betrayal, its growing up. Youve cut the apron strings, thats all. Painful, but healthy.
Veronica kept up the silent treatment for a whole month. She wouldnt answer calls or reply to texts. Tom took groceries to her house and left them on the stepknowing she was in, but refusing to open up.
Emily hated seeing Tom in pain, but she knew: there could be no stepping back now.
Then, the most English of calamitiesan August thunderstorm with bonkers winds. In Veronicas neighbourhood, trees were downed, the power failed for hours. Tom saw it on the BBC, tried to callher phone dead. He dashed out of work, Emily in tow.
They found Veronica by candlelight in her kitchen, just a bit shaken. Shed run out of her tablets and her blood pressure was sky-high. As Tom and Emily barged in with hot dinner in a flask and medication, Veronica burst into tears. Not theatrical this timejust quietly, the tears of someone suddenly not so sure-footed.
I thought youd forgotten about me, she whispered, while Emily checked her blood pressure.
Course not, Mum, Tom replied softly, squeezing her hand. We just need some space for ourselves. But well always come when you need us.
They spent hours chatting by candlelightabout gardens, holidays, anything but keys. It was as if the great keys fiasco was ancient history.
As they prepared to go, Tom asked, Mum, why dont you come back with us tonight? Stay until the powers back?
Veronica hesitated, met Emilys eye. Something had shiftedthe bossiness gone, a hint of humility in its place.
No, thank you, darling. Ill stick it out here. Besides, the cat would never forgive me. You two run along.
She followed them to the door.
Do ring me occasionally, just for a natter, she said, half-grumbling.
Absolutely, Mrs Martin. And next weekend, come for pieIve mastered a new recipe, Emily smiled.
Six months on, theres still no spare key for Veronica Martinbut, oddly enough, relations have never been better. Realising she could no longer be the commandant of Tom and Emilys wardrobes, shed redirected her energyjoined the WI choir, embraced Nordic walking, and became busier than ever. Now there was simply no time to inspect Emilys saucepan storage.
And as Tom and Emily came home, turning their one and only key in their sturdy Italian lock, they felt a gentle glow. Behind that door, their world began: no one peeking in, but always open to guests who understood the art of boundaries.
Sometimes, the best way to keep family close is knowing when to shut the doorjust until youre ready to open it again.
If you enjoyed this little domestic saga, do stick around for moreyou never know when your own mother-in-law dilemma might strike!
