The bell rang sharply, an unwelcome sound announcing visitors. Margaret set aside her apron, wiped her hands, and went to the door. Her daughter stood on the threshold with a young man. Margaret let them inside.
“Hello, Mum,” her daughter said, planting a kiss on her cheek. “This is Danny. Hes going to live with us.”
“Good evening,” the young man said politely.
“And this is my mum, Auntie Margaret.”
“Margaret Whitmore,” she corrected.
“Mum, whats for supper?”
“Mashed peas and bangers.”
“I dont eat mashed peas,” the lad replied, toeing off his shoes and striding into the sitting room.
“But Mum, Danny doesnt like peas,” the girl said with wide eyes.
He dropped onto the sofa and tossed his rucksack onto the floor.
“This is actually my room,” Margaret remarked.
“Danny, come on, Ill show you where well stay,” called Emily.
“I like it right here,” he grumbled, reluctantly standing.
“Mum, think of something else Danny can eat.”
“I dont knowtheres half a pack of sausages left,” Margaret shrugged.
“Thatll do, with mustard, ketchup, and some bread,” he declared.
“Fine,” was all Margaret could say as she headed to the kitchen. “First she dragged in stray kittens, now this, and Im expected to feed him too.”
She served herself mashed peas, laid two fried bangers on the plate, added a bit of salad, and ate with relish.
“Mum, why are you eating alone?” her daughter asked, stepping into the kitchen.
“Because Ive just come home from work and Im hungry,” Margaret replied around a bite of sausage. “If anyone else wants food, they can help themselves or cook. And while were at itwhy is Danny moving in?”
“Why? Because hes my husband.”
“Your what?!”
“Yes, your daughters grown now. She decides if she marries or not. Im nineteen, after all.”
“But you didnt even invite me to the wedding.”
“There wasnt one. We just signed the papers. Now that were man and wife, well live together,” Emily said, watching her mother chew.
“Well, congratulations. But why no wedding?”
“If youve got money for a reception, well take it off your hands.”
“I see,” Margaret said, finishing her supper. “But why here?”
“Because his flats crammed with four people already.”
“So renting wasnt an option?”
“Why pay rent when Ive got a room here?” Emily asked, incredulous.
“Right.”
“Can you give us something to eat?”
“Emily, the peas are on the stove, the bangers in the pan. If thats not enough, theres half a pack in the fridge. Help yourselves.”
“Mum, you dont get ityouve got a SON-IN-LAW now,” Emily stressed.
“And? Should I dance a jig? Emily, Ive just come home from work, Im tired. No celebrations. Youve got handssort yourselves out.”
“This is why youre single!” Emily shot her a glare, stormed off, and slammed her bedroom door. Margaret finished eating, washed up, wiped the table, and retreated. She changed, grabbed her gym bag, and left for the pool. Most evenings, she swam or worked out.
By ten, she returned, hoping for a cuppa, only to find the kitchen in chaossomeone had tried cooking. The pot lid was missing, the peas dried and cracked. Sausage wrappers littered the table beside a hardened crust of bread. The frying pan was scorched, scraped with a fork. Dishes piled in the sink, and something sticky pooled on the floor. The flat reeked of cigarettes.
“Well, thats new. Emily never did this before.”
Margaret opened her daughters door. The youngsters were drinking wine and smoking.
“Emily, clean the kitchen. And tomorrow, youll buy a new frying pan,” Margaret said, leaving the door ajar.
Emily leapt up and chased after her.
“Why should we tidy? And where am I supposed to get money for a pan? I dont workIm at uni. Is a pan really more important?”
“You know the rules: If you eat, you clean. If you make a mess, you clear it. If you break something, you replace it. And yes, that pan wasnt cheapnow its ruined.”
“You dont want us here,” Emily accused.
“No,” Margaret said calmly.
She wasnt in the mood for a row, and Emily had never acted like this before.
“But I own part of this place.”
“No, the flats mine. I worked for it. Youre just registered here. If you want to stay, follow the rules.”
“Ive lived by your rules my whole life. Im married nowyou dont tell me what to do,” Emily snapped. “Besides, youve had your life. You should give us the flat.”
“Youre welcome to the hallway bench outside. Married? Didnt ask. You stay here alone, or you and your husband find somewhere else. Hes not staying.”
“Keep your stupid flat. Danny, were leaving,” Emily shouted, throwing clothes into a bag.
Five minutes later, the new son-in-law barged into Margarets room.
“Hey, Mum, dont fretwell keep it down,” he slurred, swaying. “Be nice, and we wont make a peep.”
“What Mum? Your parents are at homego to them. Take your wife with you.”
“Yeah? Ill” He raised a fist under her nose.
“Go on, then.”
Margaret gripped his wrist with manicured fingers and twisted hard.
“Ow! Let go, you mad cow!”
“Mum, what are you doing?” Emily shrieked, trying to pull her off.
Margaret shoved her aside, kneed Danny between the legs, then elbowed his throat.
“Ill document these injuries!” he whined. “Ill sue!”
“Wait, Ill call the policemake it easier,” Margaret retorted.
The youngsters fled the cosy two-bedroom flat.
“Youre not my mother anymore!” Emily yelled. “Youll never see your grandchildren!”
“What a loss,” Margaret said dryly. “Now I can finally enjoy my life.”
She glanced at her handssome nails were chipped.
“Nothing but trouble,” she muttered.
After theyd gone, she cleaned the kitchen, binned the ruined peas and pan, and changed the locks. Three months later, she bumped into Emily at work. Her daughter looked gaunt, her cheeks hollow, her eyes unhappy.
“Mum, whats for supper?” she asked.
“Dunno,” Margaret shrugged. “Havent decided yet. What do you fancy?”
“Roast chicken with rice,” Emily said quietly. “And a bit of salad.”
“Right thenlets get a chicken,” Margaret said. “You make the salad.”
