Bring me some water, my throat is parched! Ive been shouting for ages and youre still banging those pans about, as if youre trying not to hear me!
That grating, peevish voice from the end room made Eleanor wince, nearly dropping her ladle. She took a deep breath and counted to ten, a habit developed over three years living in this waking nightmare. The kitchen stank of boiled chicken and medicinesa scent that seemed to seep into the wallpaper and curtains. Eleanor switched off the hob under the broth, poured tepid boiled watercold wouldnt do, hot was forbiddeninto a glass, and headed for her mother-in-laws bedroom.
Dorothy Pauline was propped upright on a pile of pillows, resembling some grumpy old magpie. Her sharp, watery eyes tracked Eleanors every move. Upon her nightstand, amidst a legion of medicine bottles, blisters, and puzzle books, lay a stiff brown envelope Eleanor hadnt noticed before.
Here, Dorothy, your water Eleanor held out the glass, speaking with studied calm. I didnt hear you, the extractor fan was on. The chicken broths ready, Ill mash your veg in a bit, just as the doctor said.
Dorothy sipped, pulled a face as if it were vinegar, and set the glass aside.
Always got excuses, havent you she muttered, dabbing her lips with a fraying blanket. Sometimes its the fan, sometimes the Hoover, or youre busy yapping on the phone. And here I am, left to die of thirst.
Please dont say that, Im always nearby Eleanor let the rebukes slip by. As she reached to straighten a rumpled duvet, her eyes fell again on the mysterious envelope. The corner of an official document poked out.
Whats this, then? New prescriptions? She nodded at the nightstand. Let me have a look, I can nip to the chemist if you need.
Dorothy Paulines hand snapped over the envelope, quick as a fox. Surprising zest for someone who, half an hour ago, cried she couldnt lift her spoon.
Dont touch! she barked. None of your business. Private papers.
Eleanor gaped. Usually Dorothy demanded Eleanor scrutinise every hospital letter, council bill, or pension notice. This secrecy was something new.
I was just asking… Eleanor began, but the front door slammed and heavy footsteps thudded in the hall.
Williams home! Dorothys face transformed, a saccharine smile appearing. Son, come in, rescue me from this jailer!
Her husband William entered, suit rumpled, tie askew. He worked as a sales manager and lately vanished for long hours, avoiding the sickroom atmosphere and ceaseless complaints.
Evening, Mum. Evening, El he muttered, pecking his mother on the cheek without glancing at his wife. Whats all this about jailers? Eleanors looking after you like youre her own child.
Oh, shes waiting for me to depart, thats what Dorothy pursed her lips. Think I dont see? Her eyes are cold, empty. Theres no love, just duty.
Eleanor felt tears of hurt gather in her throat. Three years ago, when Dorothy suffered a stroke, the debate began: carer or nursing home? There was no money for quality care, and William immediately vetoed a homeWhat would people say, putting ones own mother away? So Eleanor quit her beloved job at the local library, moved Dorothy out of her two-bedroom flat into their three-bed, and they rented Dorothys flat to cover medicines and therapy.
Ill lay the table Eleanor whispered, slipping out.
At supper, William poked listlessly at his pie.
Like it? Eleanor asked, hoping for some warmth.
Its fine he didnt look up from his phone. By the way, Mums asking for Harriet to visit. Says shes missed her.
Harriet was Dorothy Paulines niece, daughter of Dorothys late sister. Loud, heavily made-up, utterly useless around the house. Shed turn up every six months, bring cheap cake, sit beside Dorothy for an hour, recounting failed love affairs, then vanishleaving only the whiff of perfume and piles of dirty crockery.
Why? Eleanor was surprised. Dorothys blood pressures unpredictable, she needs peace. Harriets a whirlwindshell upset her again.
Mum insists. Says its important. Shell come tomorrow, just bear with us.
The next afternoon, right at noon, Harriet appearedstriding into the flat still in her outdoor heels, trampling across the spotless carpet.
Hi, Ellie! Youve put on a bit, havent you? That robes not flattering. Wheres Aunt Dorothy? Ive brought her treats!
She brandished a bag of marshmallow sweets, an absolute no-no for Dorothys diabetes.
Eleanor simply pointed at the bedroom door. Harriet disappeared inside, and immediately, animated whispering and Dorothys sniffling erupted.
Eleanor retreated to the kitchen, mindlessly sorting rice, but that envelope gnawed at her thoughts. She couldnt shake the suspicion.
An hour later, Harriet emerged radiant, clutching the brown envelope. It vanished into her big designer bag.
Right, Elnor, Im off! You know how it isbusiness, errands. Aunts asleep, best let her rest. Youre a wonder, keeping things so neat, though personally Id change the curtainsthese are so last century.
And gone she was, as swiftly as shed arrived.
That evening, while Eleanor wrestled Dorothys bedsheetsa brutal task, given Dorothys size and reluctance to helpshe ventured,
Dorothy, what was in those papers you gave Harriet? Need any copies? Or to send them off somewhere?
Dorothy squinted slyly, a gloating triumph in her gaze.
That, Elnor, is my way of saying thank you. Harriets the only true soul who loves me, not for the flat or any inheritance, just as I am. Bloods thicker than water.
A cold shock passed through Eleanor.
What flat? Your two-beds let out to cover your treatment. We agreed, later, itd go to our children as their inheritance.
Dorothy cackled, dry and brittle.
You agreed! You think you can divvy up a bears hide before its skinned! Ive chosen otherwise. The notary visited today, while you were shopping. Ive gifted the flat to Harriet.
Eleanor froze, bedding in hand. Reality reeled.
Gifted? she whispered. To Harriet? The same Harriet who never brought you so much as a glass of water? Who doesnt know which tablets you take?
She never nags me, does she! Dorothy screeched. But you, your sour face, always acting as if its some favour! Think I cant sense it? Waiting for me to die, so you can grab my flat! Well, youll get nothing! Harriets the owner now. Officially! Section 572 of the Civil Code, my dear. Deed of giftno undoing it.
Eleanor slumped onto the chair, her legs failing. Three years. Three years erasedinjecting, changing pads, sleepless nights, giving up her career. And only to hear shes a greedy outsider?
And William? she managed. Does he know?
Hell learn eventually. My property, my choice. Now, be a dear, go heat up the soup. Im hungry. And the pad needs changingit’s pinching.
Eleanor got up, ears ringing. She left the room, donned her coat, picked up her bag, and walked out. She couldnt breathe in there anymore. She needed air.
She wandered the streets for two hours, growing numb with cold. One thought spun in her head: betrayal. Not merely Dorothysshed never expected lovebut Williams. The notary wouldnt appear randomly. Someone had to open the door, provide the documents.
When she returned, William was in the kitchen, eating soup straight from the pan.
Whereve you been? he complained. Mums shouting, her pads soaked, and you disappeared. Am I supposed to scrub her backside? Im a bloke, that makes me sick!
Eleanor looked at him, andafter twenty yearssaw him clearly. Not a beloved husband, not a pillar, but an immature, selfish man well sheltered by convenience.
William she said quietly your mothers gifted her flat to Harriet. An official deed. You knew?
William choked on his soup, coughing, flushing red.
What? Gift deed? Youre raving.
Im not. Dorothy told me herself. Harriet took the documents today. The notary came by while I was out. Who let him in? Youve got duplicate keysyou could’ve popped in at lunchtime.
William avoided her gaze, crumbling bread nervously.
Well… I did swing by. Mum asked me. She said she needed a pension proxy or something. I let the chap in, sounded respectable. I didnt check, El! Had to get back to work!
You didnt check? Eleanors voice trembled. Your mothers stolen our childrens future, handed her flat to a strangerand you didnt check? Wholl pay for her medicine now? The rents goneHarriet will either take or sell the flat. Wheres the money coming from, William? Your wages? Or do you think Ill start working again to care for a woman who spat in my face?
Dont start hysterics! William banged the table. Mums ill, maybe shes gone daft! Well challenge it, have her declared incompetent!
Incompetent? Eleanor sneered. Funny, you always said her mind was sharp whenever she praised you. Notaries aren’t fools. He mustve seen a doctors letter certifying her mental clarity. Harriet had it all sorted.
A shout rang from the bedroom:
Is anyone alive? Im drenched here! Eleanor! Come clean me!
William grimaced.
El, just go. Well sort it out later. She cant lie in filth.
Something snapped inside Eleanor. That thin strand of endurance, duty, and sacrifice. She glanced at her handsred, rough from endless cleaning. She remembered the last time shed visited a hairdresser. The sea she’d longed to visit, thwarted by whatll we do with Mum?
No she said.
No what? William blinked.
Im not going. I wont wash her anymore. I wont cook her mashed soups. I wont endure her insults. Shes got a new flat ownerHarriet. Legally, the gift deals without obligation, but morally… Since Harriet got the asset, let her care for the liability. Ring her. Let her come and clean.
Youve lost your mind! William jumped up. Harriet wont pick up at this hour! She doesnt know how! She’s my mum!
Precisely. Your mother. Not mine. And she gifted the property to her niece. Im a strangera jailer, as she said.
Eleanor turned, walked past the bedroom, and into her and Williams room. She dragged out a suitcase.
What are you doing? William stood in the doorway, pale and panicked.
Im leaving. Ill go to Mums. Its cramped in her one-bedroom, but the airs clean.
El, dont! Dorothy was rash, made mistakes! We can fix it! Please dont leave us! How will I cope alone? I work!
Youll hire a carer. Oh, waitthe moneys gone. Flat’s vanished. Guess its up to you. Evenings, nights, weekends. Welcome to my world, William.
She flung clothes in the suitcase: jumpers, underwear, books. Tears streamed down her face, but it mattered little. Most importantget out fast.
El, I wont let you! he tried to grab her hand. Youre my wifeyou vowed to stick through thick and thin!
Ive seen plenty of hardship, William. For three years. Havent glimpsed much joy. And, by the way she zipped her suitcase, straightened up Im filing for divorce.
Over a flat? Youre so grasping!
Not for the flat, you fool! she cried For letting me become a slave! For opening the notarys door and betraying me! For worrying about whod change the pad, rather than apologising!
She wheeled her suitcase into the hallway. From Dorothy’s room came a sustained wailing:
William! She’s abandoned me! Wants me dead! Give me a drink!
William darted between wife and mothers door.
El, please… Stay the night, just for tonight!
Ill leave the keys on the console Eleanor said coldly. Farewell.
She stepped onto the landing and called the lift. As the doors closed, she rested her forehead on the cool mirror and sobbedlong, trembling, but they tasted of relief.
The first week at Mums passed in a haze. Eleanor slept twelve hours at a time, ate properly, walked in the park. She switched off her phone, bought a new sim for family only. But news found her.
Via a mutual friend, she learned that William tried calling Harriet. Harriet ignored him, then announced a gift is a gift, theres no caretaking in the deed. She intended to sell the flatneeded money for her business expansionand gave two months notice to the tenants. Most tellingHarriet hinted Dorothy ought to be placed in a public care home if her son couldnt manage.
William took unpaid leave, then sick leave. He phoned the childrenson and daughter, studying in other citiespleading for help with Dorothy. They called Eleanor.
Mum, Dad says you betrayed us said son, Arthur. But we know how hard you worked. Were not coming. Exams and all that. Grandma chose Harriet herself.
Eleanor felt proud. The kids understood.
A month passed. Eleanor returned to the library. Low pay, but peace and the scent of books soothed her more than any medication. She filed for divorce. William never attended court.
One evening, Eleanor came home and found William waiting beside the block. He looked years olderunshaven, stained shirt, reeking of sour age and gin, a scent Eleanor knew all too well.
El… he stepped towards her Help me. I cant cope. She screams all day. Harriets sold the flatquick sale, dodgy buyers, peanuts. No more rent money. Cant afford a carer. I lost my job, they let me go…
Eleanor gazed at him, but only felt disgust.
Whats it got to do with me, William?
But you know how… You have the knack. Come back, please, I forgive it all. Well sell Dorothys last flat, buy something smaller, hire help.
You forgive? Eleanor echoed. Youve got it twisted. Im the one meant to forgivebut I wont.
El, she cries for you. Remembers you made her porridge best.
Should have remembered before. When the notary came.
But Harriet fleeced us! Shes a con artist!
Harriet acted as permitted. Dorothy tried to buy affection with square feet. Deals done. Goods exchanged. No complaints admitted.
Youve grown hard William whispered.
Ive grown free Eleanor corrected him. Go, William. Dont return. Our hearing is next week. I hope they grant us a quick divorce.
She walked past and opened the door to her block.
El! he called after her What if I have to send her to a council care home? Its a nightmareforms to fill, a queue, I cant do it! Help with the paperwork at least!
Eleanor paused. Turned back.
Try the internet, William. You used to be a manager. Or tried to be. Youll figure it out. Ive done my shift.
She shut the door.
In her flat, she went to the window. William still loitered belowa small, pitiable figure, crushed by responsibility long outsourced to others. Eleanor drew the curtains closed.
The kettle whistled in the kitchen. Her mum was baking cabbage pies.
Who was at the door, Eleanor? Mum peeked out.
Wrong address, Mum. Just wrong address.
Eleanor sat, took a steaming slice of pie and bit into it. It was delicious. For the first time in three years, food had taste. Life rolled on, and now it belonged only to her. Dorothy Pauline got exactly what she paid fora beloved niece with money and a son finally forced to grow up, even in his fifties. Fairness is a dish best served cold, but its still filling, all the same.
