Finally, Oliver and Emily moved into their big new house. A massive two-storey place—just what they needed with three kids. Each child got their own room, and everyone was thrilled. Little Sophie, though, didn’t quite get it yet—she was only a year and eight months old.
*”Thank you, love, for this dream come true. It’s wonderful to be the lady of the house. Though the boys are tearing around like mad, but hey—kids need to burn off energy,”* Emily sighed happily.
She soon realised, though, that keeping a huge house tidy with three kids was no walk in the park. Ethan was seven, Toby four, and baby Sophie kept her hands full.
One evening after dinner, Emily was washing up while the kids played and Oliver sprawled on the sofa, glued to the telly. Then his phone rang.
*”Hey, Jack,”* she heard him say. *”All good here, mate. How about you?”*
Emily knew it was Oliver’s younger brother, Jack, who lived in another town with their mum. Though Jack was already thirty, he was in no rush to settle down. After chatting, Oliver turned to her, grinning.
*”Jack’s getting married. We’re invited.”*
*”Really?”* Emily blinked. *”I thought he’d never tie the knot! He’s got it made—handsome, women fawning over him, Mum cooking and cleaning for him. Not a bad life. Though his job’s a bit… well. Degree and all, but still acting like a lad.”*
Oliver stayed quiet, lost in thought.
*”You’re the responsible one,”* Emily went on. *”Hardworking, driven, ambitious. You two are night and day. Is Jack still at that nightclub?”*
*”Yeah, still DJing,”* Oliver nodded.
*”Who’s the bride?”*
*”Didn’t say much. Her name’s Lucy, teaches primary school.”*
Emily sat beside him, sensing something on his mind.
*”Where will they live? Does Lucy have a flat?”*
*”That’s the thing…”* Oliver met her gaze. *”What if Mum moves in with us? She’s got a one-bed—no way they’ll fit there. Our place is big enough.”*
Emily paused, weighing life with her mother-in-law. Oliver waited, tense.
Finally, she tucked a curl behind her ear and shrugged. *”You know what? I don’t mind. Extra help with the kids.”*
*”You’re brilliant, love,”* he kissed her cheek.
Emily didn’t know Margaret *that* well. She visited occasionally but never stayed long. A night here and there wasn’t enough to really know someone. Living together? Different story. Last time she’d seen her was at Sophie’s christening a year ago.
Margaret was nearly sixty—polite, calm, put-together. Always kind to Emily and adored the grandkids. Still, Emily couldn’t shake the thought: *No one’s all sunshine. There’s always a quirk or two. Well, time will tell.*
Those thoughts nagged her for two months, until Oliver had to fly solo to Jack’s wedding—Emily stayed back with a poorly Sophie.
Three days later, Oliver returned… with his mum.
*”Well, that’s that,”* Emily thought. *”No turning back now. Family’s grown by one.”*
Margaret didn’t come empty-handed. Gifts for all—a big doll for Sophie, toy cars for the boys. That night, Oliver rambled about the wedding.
*”Lucy’s lovely. Clever, pretty—got Jack wrapped around her finger, and he *listens* to her. Never saw that coming.”*
Margaret nodded along, nothing but praise for the new wife. Emily gave her a spare room, and she was chuffed.
The first week, Emily watched carefully—but Margaret played the perfect gran. Reading stories, playing games, helping tidy, even cooking sometimes.
*”Mum, Gran taught me to tie my laces!”* Toby beamed.
*”I can read without stopping now,”* Ethan bragged. *”Gran’s been helping.”*
So far, so good. Emily even thought, *Maybe mother-in-laws aren’t so bad.* Peaceful, easy. Then Margaret offered:
*”Emily, love, you’re run ragged. Let me take over dinners. You’ve enough on your plate.”*
*”Thank you, Mum,”* Emily nearly hugged her. *”That’d be a lifesaver.”*
Oliver chimed in. *”We do a big shop once a week, but if you need anything, just say. Oh—you good with online orders?”*
*”I manage,”* Margaret smiled. *”Not completely hopeless with tech.”*
Dinner that night was roast chicken with veg—a hit. Even the boys, who usually turned their noses up, cleared their plates. Emily was impressed.
*”Ol, since we’ve got a live-in babysitter… fancy a night out? It’s been ages,”* Emily suggested.
Before, she’d never leave the kids with anyone. But this was *Gran*.
*”Go on,”* Margaret urged. *”You’ve been cooped up. We’ll be fine.”*
So off they went—a stroll in the park, then a cosy café. Live music, even a dance.
*”Oliver, this is *amazing*,”* Emily laughed. *”All I do is mum-life. Maybe your mum moving in wasn’t so bad.”*
Oliver relaxed—he’d worried they wouldn’t get along.
Back home at eleven, they froze at the sound of Margaret’s voice:
*”Die! And you—you’re not escaping!”*
*”What the—?”* Emily gasped.
Margaret was hunched over the PC, blasting away in a shooter game.
*”Mum?!”* Oliver gaped. *”You *game*?”*
*”Oh, back so soon?”* She didn’t look up. *”Kids are asleep. Eat if you’re hungry—can’t pause, I’m online.”*
They exchanged glances and checked on the boys—fast asleep. Sophie too, in their room.
*”My mum’s a gamer,”* Oliver muttered.
*”Eh, everyone’s got quirks,”* Emily shrugged. *”Better than booze or worse.”*
Two days later, Margaret announced:
*”Mind if I nip out tonight?”*
*”Where to?”* Oliver frowned.
*”Just a wander. Fancy some air.”*
*”Alone?”* Emily asked. *”Won’t you be bored?”*
*”Emily, love, I’m a big girl. I’ll manage.”*
She left with a wink. *”Don’t wait up.”*
By ten, no sign of her. Eleven—Oliver tried her phone. No answer.
*”Where *is* she?”* he fretted.
*”Should we call the police?”* Emily bit her lip.
Another ring—this time, Margaret picked.
*”Mum, *where* are you?”* Oliver groaned.
Emily watched, relieved.
*”Well?”* she prompted.
*”You won’t believe it. She’s at a *nightclub*.”*
They sat baffled, waiting. At 1 AM, Margaret waltzed in.
*”How’d you even get in?”* Oliver spluttered.
*”Walked right through. What’s the fuss?”*
*”What were you *doing* there? We don’t go to those places!”*
*”Shame. I’ve been before—Jack invited me. Had to see what my boy gets up to. He’s a cracking DJ, by the way.”*
*”How’d you even *find* a club here?”*
*”Google, obviously. Met some nice people, too,”* she smirked, vanishing upstairs.
Oliver flopped onto the sofa. *”I thought women her age knitted or something.”*
Emily grinned. *”Every woman’s got a bit of devil in her. Ours just fancied a night out. No harm done.”*
