**A Home Without Welcome: When Mother Turned the House into a Battlefield**
The flat where we were no longer welcome: When a mother made a home into a battleground.
James sat at his desk when the phone rang. His wifes name flashed on the screena rare midday call.
“Hello, Emily. Is everything alright? Im a bit tied up,” he said, eyes still fixed on his computer.
“Something awfuls happened,” her voice trembled, choked with tears. “Weve been kicked out. Weve got no home left!”
“What?!” James shot up from his chair. “Did something happen to the flat? A fire? A break-in?”
“The flats fine but were not allowed to live there anymore,” she whispered.
“Not allowed? Who on earth could stop us from staying in our own home?”
“Who else? Your mother!” The words burst out, raw with pain, anger, and despair.
Years ago, theyd moved to London with their girlsthe eldest seven, the youngest five. Theyd started from scratch, worked tirelessly. Then, a stroke of luck: Emilys father inherited a flat from a distant relative up north.
“Live there,” the old man had said. “Im retired, the taxes are manageable. The flat stays in my name, but we wont interfere.”
They renovated, bought furniture. Made it theirs. Even if the deeds werent in their names, it was home. Yet Emily couldnt shake the unease.
“Were putting everything into this place, but were not on the deeds,” shed told James.
“Dont worry. My parents are here. Whod kick us out? Were family.”
But the worst happenedthey were thrown out. Not by strangers, but by their own kin.
The trigger was his fathers birthday. They went, celebrated. The next day, his mother stood at their door unannounced.
“Weve decidedOliver, your cousin, is moving in. Hes at uni, halls are full. Youve got space.” Her tone turned icy. “And lets not forget, the flat belongs to us. We decide who lives there.”
Emilys breath caught. But James just nodded.
“No problem. Theres room.”
She bit her lip, holding back a scream. Not the time. But something inside her shattered that day.
Oliver moved inand acted like he owned the place. Ate on the sofa, shouted, never cleaned. Everything he touched turned filthy. Then James parents visitedto see their “grandson.” The nightmare began.
“Olivers shoes are muddy!” his mother scolded. “Why isnt his jacket washed? And wheres the cake?”
She ordered them around like a drill sergeant. Cooked, cleaned, then suddenly turned on Emily.
“I dont see how my son lives with someone like you. You should leave. Let the flat stay with us.”
“Where would I go? Rents sky-high, the girls have school”
“Not my problem. Pack your things.”
When Emily refused, his mother snapped.
“Ill talk sense into James. Hell sign the divorce papers.”
Silent tears streamed down Emilys face as she packed.
James found out and stormed over.
“Mum, whats this? Youre throwing my wife out?”
“Shes unnecessary. And besidesshe drinks!”
“Excuse me?!”
“I heard bottles clinking. Why hide it? I wont have that under my roof. The flats minemy rules.”
“Mum, that was Oliver with the recycling!”
“Dont blame the boy! If she steps foot here againdont say I didnt warn you.”
“Then Im going with her.”
“Good. Olivers got a girlfriend moving in soon.”
James clenched his fists, silent.
“Fine. Two days.”
Later, he told Emily, “Dont cry. Well take everythingToms got a garage. Well buy our own place. Maybe not what we dreamed, but itll be ours.”
Three days later, his mother arrived with his sister, Charlotteloaded like they were preparing for a siege. Meat, fish, tins, sacks of potatoes
“Have they really left?!” Charlotte gasped.
“Empty No kitchen No fridge No furniture”
“Put it on the balcony.”
“But its raining! Mum, you cant even sleep here!”
Margaret Harris dialled her sons numberno answer. The grandkids ignored her calls too.
“Margaret here Gran” she tried one granddaughter, only to hear:
“Dont call us again!”
The flat held only a grubby old sofa now. And a bucket in the bathtubthe symbol of a broken dream.
Six months later, Emily cooked in their new flat. The phone rangunknown number.
“James, its me Mum You never call Im sorry. Come back. Live here.”
“We already do. In our home.”
“Your home? Why do you need another? Youve got ours!”
“Yours is yours. Ours is ours.”
“And the girls? Theyve cut me off!”
“They dont need anything. Weve got it all. Forget that flat. Were never coming back.”
James ended the call. That chapter was closed. And it would never be reopened.
