13May2025
Today, after a long day at the factory in Manchester, I finally sat down with Margaret to talk about Emmas news. Shed been leafing through a novel, then asked, Is Emma really expecting? I gave a slow nod, my fingers fidgeting at the hem of my work shirt a habit Ive had since I was a lad, especially when Im nervous.
Werent you both supposed to get a mortgage first and think about children later? Margaret pressed, studying my expression. You always said we needed to get on our feet before anything else.
I shrugged, spreading my arms as if apologising for circumstances I couldnt control, and sighed, It just happened. We didnt see it coming, honestly.
The news didnt cheer her at all. Were barely scraping by. The flat we rent is more like a studio than a proper home. Emmas work is oncall, and my wages are still modest. Children seemed a faroff luxury.
Mother, I said, moving a little closer and softening my voice, you rent that onebedroom flat that Grandma left you. Could we move in there for now?
She replied, I told you I wasnt willing to move in! But everythings changed. If we set aside a little each month instead of spending it on rent, well have a safety net when the baby arrives. Her chest tightened; that flat is her only extra income after she retires. The repairs on my own house, the medicine, the trip to see my sister all of that has been possible thanks to the rent she receives.
Seeing her hesitation, I added quickly, I know this is a big decision, Mum. It will change your life. But were in a desperate spot. Emma wont be able to work much longer.
She took a deep breath, then said, Fine, but Im not going to rewrite the tenancy. Its my property. I lifted my hands in a defensive gesture, Dont worry, Mum! Were not trying to take anything away. Thank you so much! I gave her a quick hug and left, fearing she might change her mind.
I stayed in the armchair, thinking how to make this work without hurting anyone. Within a week I spoke to the current tenants. They werent thrilled, but their lease had ended, and they moved out a month later, leaving behind a faint smell and scuffed hallway wallpaper.
Emma and I slipped into the flat quietly, without any fanfare. I helped with the move, bringing over some homemade preserves, new curtains, anything to make it feel cozier. She barely thanked me, muttering something indistinct before disappearing into the bathroom.
Our flats are in adjoining houses, and from my kitchen window I could see Emmas windows. Max would dash over now and then for salt or just to chat. In the seven months that followed Emma never visited for tea or a casual catchup it felt as if she was deliberately keeping her distance from me.
Then the joyous news arrived a grandson was born, a healthy boy weighing almost four kilograms. I visited the new parents with nappies, onesies, tiny socks Id knitted myself. Emma looked exhausted; dark circles lingered under her eyes, her hands trembled from lack of sleep.
Do you need a hand? I can watch the baby while you rest, I offered.
She clutched the infant tighter and snapped, No. Well manage. I didnt push; help forced upon someone never sticks.
Two months later I noticed an elderly couple peering out of the flat opposite ours Emmas parents. Probably just here to visit, I thought, stepping away from the window.
Three days after that, Max returned home looking haggard, bags under his eyes, his face drawn. I poured him a cup of tea and set out some biscuits.
Hows the little one? Smiling yet? I asked.
He forced a smile, Hes growing fast. Hes already babbling. I glanced at the door, I see Emmas parents are staying over?
He nodded reluctantly, Yes, theyre helping with the baby.
Where are you all fitting in then? Your onebedroom flat is tiny, I pressed.
He averted his gaze, Were making do. Theyre helping Emma, which makes things easier for her.
I wasnt happy with the arrangement, but I let him be. When I visited the baby, Emmas parents looked down on me as if Id done something wrong. I played with little Milo, ignoring the sideways looks.
One afternoon I spotted a foldout sofa tucked in their hallway. Inside the only bedroom lay Emmas parents suitcases, boxes, and shopping bags. It clicked theyd taken the bedroom, and the young couple were relegated to the kitchen.
Two more weeks passed and the parents still lingered, which began to grate on me. Max grew paler, constantly rubbing his neck and back. On Friday he dropped onto my sofa, exhausted, and that was the final straw.
I marched to their flat. The door opened to Emmas mother, her lips pursed, clearly displeased by my unannounced arrival.
Without hesitation I asked, How long is this going to go on? How long will you keep living here? Why should my son suffer?
Emmas mother lifted an eyebrow, Whats it to you? This is our daughters house! Why are you making demands?
From the kitchen, a sleepy Emma emerged, cradling the baby, eyes flicking between her mother and me. Whats happening? she whispered.
Emmas mother snatched the child and began rocking him dramatically, Were not just here for nothing! Were helping with the child! Theres no point in us staying otherwise!
I stood my ground, This flat is mine! I wont let you live here any longer. I wont have my son sleeping on a foldout sofa! Get out!
Her father, emerging from the doorway, shouted, How dare you! This is all because of you! You could have offered them a twobedroom and moved yourself in. Everyone would have space!
I clenched my jaw, Youre silent now! Youll fight this elsewhere if you must! Remember, I paid for the wedding, I gave you the flat. What more do you want from me?
At that moment Max returned, frozen at the threshold, unsure of what to do.
Emmas mother turned to him, Your mother is insulting my parents! She accused, Shes kicking them out!
I snarled, Either her parents move out, or you all leave! The room fell into a heavy silence. Baby Milo whimpered, sensing the tension.
Soon raised voices filled the hallway. Emma broke down in tears, her mother trying to soothe her, casting angry glances at me. Emmas father gestured wildly at Max, his words lost in the shouting. I turned and slammed the door behind me.
For two days I couldnt find a place to sit. I didnt call, didnt visit, though my heart ached for Max and my grandson. What if they truly left? Where would they go? Yet I forced myself not to drown in pity.
On the third day I saw movement in the windows of the flat opposite. The elderly couple had disappeared, taking their belongings with them. The young couple moved their things back into the bedroom. The foldout sofa was placed on a small balcony.
That evening Max came home looking considerably better. The dark circles had faded, his eyes clearer.
He sat beside me, exhaling slowly, Theyre gone. Emmas still angry, but shes not speaking to me.
I asked gently, Are you still angry with me?
He laughed, I finally got some sleep. Sleeping on a sofa in the kitchen isnt ideal, especially when there are two snorers in the room! His smile was genuine this time.
I pulled him into a hug. Perhaps Id seemed harsh to some, but Id protected my child. Let Emma be as upset as she wishes my grandson now has a proper home to grow up in.
*Lesson learned: When family ties are tested, its better to stand firm for those you love, even if it means weathering a storm of hurt feelings.*
