They signed the papers yesterday, she’s moving tomorrow, the boy announced from the hallway.
Eleanor, you have to see these prices! the neighbour, Margaret, jabbed her finger at the shop window. Three pounds a kilo for tomatoes! That’s daylight robbery!
It’s a disaster, not a life, Eleanor shook her head, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. Back when I retired you could get by, now you barely stretch the pennies.
And you live alone? No help from your son?
I live with my son. Arthur is always busy, works a lot. He brings home money, of course, but you hardly see him at home.
At least that’s something, Margaret sighed. My own children are all gone, I only see the grandchildren on holidays.
They said their goodbyes, and Eleanor headed home. Her arms ached from the shopping bags, her legs throbbed after the market run. At sixtythree, the body reminded her of its age more often.
The flat greeted her with silence. Arthur was absent, as usual. Eleanor spread the groceries on the kitchen table, set the kettle, and settled by the window with a mug of tea, watching the grey autumn courtyard.
Her life had been steady and quiet. Fifteen years had passed since her husband died. She had grown accustomed to solitude, learned to manage on her own. She raised a son, gave him an education, helped him stand on his own feet.
Arthur was now thirtyfive, a programmer at a large company, earning well. They lived together in a threebedroom flat that her late husband had acquired from the factory.
Arthur occupied one room, she another, the third was the living room. Each lived his own life, only meeting for dinner, and even then not always.
Eleanor did not complain. Arthur was a good son, gave financial support, never drunk, never caused trouble. His love life, however, was a patchwork of fleeting romances, never anything serious.
Mum, dont rush me, he would say when she gently broached the topic of marriage. Ill find the right one when the time comes.
And now, perhaps, he had. For the past six months he stayed out later, came home less often. He answered questions evasively, but Eleanor saw that he was in love.
Will you introduce me to her? she asked one evening.
I will, Mum. When the moment is right.
The moment arrived without warning. Eleanor was washing dishes after dinner when the front door swung open. Arthur was home earlier than usual.
Mum, are you in the kitchen? his voice trembled with excitement.
Here! she called back.
He stepped into the doorway, hair disheveled, eyes alight. Eleanor sensed immediately that something important had happened.
Mum, I have to tell you something.
Speak, Im listening.
Arthur paced the hallway, searching for words.
We signed the papers yesterday, he blurted out, stopping in the middle of the room.
Eleanor sank onto a chair. The world tilted.
What? she could only manage.
Im married. Yesterday we signed. Lucy is moving in tomorrow.
Arthur, are you joking?
No, Mum. Im serious.
Why didnt you tell me?
It just… happened spontaneously.
Spontaneously? You got married on a whim? Eleanors voice quivered.
Mum, dont start. Im an adult, I make my own decisions.
Ive never even seen this Lucy!
Youll see tomorrow. Shes a good person, youll like her.
Eleanor sat, unable to move. The shock was so intense that words stuck in her throat.
Mum, say something, Arthur crouched beside her.
What should I say? Congratulations? After youve already married me?
Im warning you now. Right now.
After youve signed! Thats not a warning, its a fact!
Im sorry, it just happened that way.
She rose, retreated to her bedroom, closed the door, and sank onto the bed, her face in her hands. Tears streamed down, but she held back sobs.
Her son had married without her knowledge or blessing, and tomorrow a stranger would walk into their home. How was she supposed to feel? Joy?
She lay awake the whole night, turning over thoughts. Who was Lucy? Why had Arthur rushed into marriage? Was she pregnant?
Morning found her with a heavy head and reddened eyes. Arthur had already left for work, leaving a note on the kitchen counter: Mum, well be back this evening. Please have something for dinner. Love you.
Love you was easy to say. But what about her feelings? Her opinion?
Eleanor mechanically began preparing a meal. She boiled a pot of soup, fried some meatballs, tossed a salad. Her hands moved on autopilot while her mind churned.
By evening she had swept the floor, dusted the surfaces, set the table. The house was spotless, but a lingering sourness clung to her.
The door opened at eight oclock. Eleanor stood at the sink, drying her hands, heart thudding as if it might burst.
Mum, were home! Arthurs voice was bright.
She stepped into the hallway. Arthur stood with a woman. Tall, slender, long blond hair, bright makeup, looking about twentyfive.
Mum, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is my mother, Eleanor.
Hello, the girl said, extending a hand.
Hello, Eleanor shook the cool palm.
Lucy wore an expensive leather jacket, designer jeans, a gold chain glinting at her neck, looking as if shed stepped out of a fashion spread.
Arthur told me youd made dinner. How lovely! Lucy chirped, shedding her jacket.
Arthur made Eleanor wince. No one had ever called her son by that nickname.
Please, come into the kitchen, Eleanor said flatly.
At dinner Lucy babbled nonstop, recounting their wedding, praising Arthur, declaring her happiness. Arthur stared at her with adoring eyes, catching every word.
Eleanor ate the soup in silence, occasionally nodding. Everything about Lucy irritated her: the fluttering chatter, Arthurs smitten gaze, the suddenness of it all.
Eleanor, may I call you Mum? Lucy asked, batting her lashes.
As you wish, Eleanor replied coldly.
Oh, how wonderful! I have no mother now, she passed long ago. And heres a wonderful motherinlaw!
After dinner Arthur showed Lucy around the flat. Eleanor stayed behind, clearing the table, hearing their laughter and Lucys footsteps echo through the rooms.
This will be our bedroom, Arthur said.
Where will Mum sleep? Lucy asked, feigning surprise.
She has her own room.
Of course.
Eleanor pressed her lips together. So Lucy thought she would give up her room? Not a chance.
That night, as the young couple settled into Arthurs room, Eleanor lay in hers, hearing muffled voices and laughter through the walls. Loneliness settled like a heavy fog.
Morning found her up early, as always. She went to the kitchen to make breakfast. An hour later Lucy appeared, yawning and stretching.
Good morning, Mum! she sang.
Good, Eleanor muttered.
Oh, youve already prepared breakfast? How thoughtful!
I always make breakfast.
I dont like eating in the morning, just tea.
Arthur likes a big breakfast.
Hell get used to it, Lucy said lightly, pouring herself coffee.
Eleanor flipped the cheese scones, thinking Lucy would get used to her sons habits.
Arthur arrived, sat down, and Eleanor placed the scones on his plate, poured tea.
Thanks, Mum, he smiled.
Arthur, are you really going to eat that? Lucy winced. So many calories!
Thats how I always breakfast.
Id watch my figure if I were you.
Arthur glanced between his wife and his mother. Eleanor turned away, hiding her pain.
After breakfast Lucy began unpacking. Shed brought three huge suitcases, a mountain of boxes, dumping them into Arthurs room, hanging clothes in the wardrobe.
Arthur, where will I keep my makeup? Theres no space!
Well figure something out.
Maybe ask Mum to clear a shelf in the bathroom?
Eleanor, passing by, stopped.
Theres no free shelf in the bathroom.
There is! Lucy peered into the room. Look, a whole cabinet!
Thats my stuff.
Can you move it a bit?
I cant.
Lucy pursed her lips, looked annoyed at Arthur.
Mum, could you free a shelf, please? Arthur asked.
Eleanor quietly went to the bathroom, shifted her bottles, cleared one shelf, returned to the room, closed the door. Tears welled again. She felt like a stranger in her own home.
A week passed. Lucy settled in, rearranging furniture, hanging pictures.
Eleanor, shall we move the sofa in the living room? Itd feel cozier!
Its been here for twenty years.
Change is good!
I dont need change.
Oh, come on! Arthur, tell Mum itll be better!
Arthur shuffled between his wife and his mother, trying to please everyone. In the end the sofa was moved. Eleanor said nothing, retreating to her room.
Lucy didnt like cooking. Shed eat ready meals and leave the dishes piled up. Eleanor quietly cleaned after her.
Mum, youre such a good housekeeper! Lucy admired. I cant cook at all.
I could learn.
Why? Youre already wonderful at it!
Eleanor realised Lucy was using her, preferring to offload everything onto the motherinlaw.
One evening Eleanor decided to go to the shop. Lucy lounged on the sofa, watching TV.
Lucy, could you get some bread, please? Its heavy for me.
Oh, Eleanor, Im tired today! Can I ask Arthur?
Hes at work.
Then youll have to go yourself; you always do.
Eleanor took her bag and left, tears pressing on her cheeks. The thought of her daughterinlaw not even offering to go to the shop cut deeper.
She trudged up the stairs, the heavy bag pulling at her arm, her chest thudding. She paused on the landing, catching her breath.
At home Lucy remained on the sofa, Arthur still absent.
Ah, youre back! What did you buy?
Eleanor slipped into the kitchen, unpacked the groceries, hands shaking, heart racing.
That evening, over dinner, Lucy announced:
Arthur, lets throw a party! Invite my friends!
Good idea, Arthur beamed.
Mum, is that alright? Lucy asked, tone more demand than question.
Does my opinion matter? Eleanor replied, weary.
Mum, come on, please, Arthur pleaded. Of course it matters!
Then Im against it. I feel unwell, need quiet.
Oh, Eleanor, just once! Well be quiet! Lucy cooed.
No.
Arthur, tell her!
Arthur looked at his mother, then at his wife.
Mum, please. Lucy wants to celebrate our wedding with friends.
The wedding was a month ago.
Better late than never!
Eleanor rose from the table.
Do whatever you like. Ill go to Margaret.
The party went ahead on Saturday. Lucy invited ten noisy young people, bottles clinked, music blared. Eleanor left for Margarets flat, sat there drinking tea, venting.
Oh, Ellie, its classic! Margaret shook her head. Young wives always try to push their mothers out!
Im not getting in their way!
Youre a obstacle just by existing. She needs the flat to feel like the lady of the house.
Its my flat!
Then fight for it, or theyll trample you.
Eleanor returned late, the guests still shouting, music thumping. She slipped into her room and locked the door.
Morning revealed the flat in disarray: dirty dishes, cigarette ends in ashtrays, spilled wine on the table. Lucy slept, Arthur too.
Eleanor began cleaning: washing dishes, wiping tables, scrubbing the floor. She laboured for three hours until everything was tidy again.
Lucy woke at lunch, shuffled into the kitchen, yawning.
Good morning! Oh, youve already cleaned everything? Thanks!
Youre welcome, Eleanor replied curtly.
Wheres Arthur?
Hes sleeping.
We had such a lovely night yesterday! Too bad you werent there!
Im not sorry.
Lucy poured herself coffee, sat down.
Eleanor, have you ever thought of moving somewhere else? Maybe to a friends or a relatives?
Eleanor froze by the stove.
What?
Youre alone, were a young couple. We need space, you understand?
This is my flat.
Technically, yes, but Arthur is your son, so its his too!
The lease is in my name.
Oh, come on, its just paperwork! The family matters more than deeds!
Eleanor turned to Lucy.
Im not going anywhere. This is my home.
You wont stay with us forever!
I will, as long as I live.
Lucy pouted, huffed.
Thats outdated. Young people need freedom!
Theres not much freedom in a threebedroom flat.
None! Youre always here, cooking, in the bathroom! I cant relax!
Eleanor left the kitchen, avoiding further words, sat in her room, clasping her head in her hands. She felt as if they wanted to evict her from her own house.
That night she spoke with Arthur. He came home from work, and she called him over.
Son, I need to talk seriously.
Im listening, Mum.
Your wife said I should move out. She said you need freedom.
Arthurs face reddened.
Mum, she didnt mean it like that
What did she mean?
We just want some privacy sometimes.
You have your own room.
Thats not enough. We want the whole flat.
Arthur, this is my flat! Ive lived here all my life!
I know, Mum. But perhaps I should think about moving elsewhere? Maybe to Aunt Gillys?
Eleanor could not believe her ears. Her own son, whom she had raised, was now asking her to leave?
Arthur, are you serious?
Mum, think! Lucys young, she needs to feel like the lady of the house! When youre here, she cant.
Im not hindering her!
You are! Youre always criticizing, sighing disapprovingly!
I criticize? Im silent all the time!
But your expression says otherwise, as if were wronging you!
Youre wronging me! You want to drive me out of my home!
Arthur stood up.
You know what, Mum? Im tired. I try to please everyone and end up hurting them all. Lucy is my wife, shes more important.
He walked out. Eleanor stayed, staring into emptiness. Her son, the one shed birthed and nurtured, now wanted her out.
That night she didnt sleep. She thought, planned, decided. By morning she called a realtor shed found online.
I want to sell the flat.
Very well, Ill arrange a viewing.
The realtor arrived the same day, inspected the flat, gave a price. Eleanor agreed.
Where are you moving? he asked.
Ill buy a onebedroom flat. I dont need much more.
Understandable. Many do this now, giving the larger home to the kids, taking a smaller one themselves.
Im not giving it away. Im selling and buying for myself.
The realtor shrugged, began the paperwork.
That evening at dinner Eleanor announced:
Im selling the flat.
Arthur choked, Lucy dropped her fork.
What? they asked in unison.
Im selling this flat. Ill buy a onebedroom and live separately.
Mum, youve lost your mind! Arthur paled.
No, Im perfectly sane. You wanted freedom, youll have it. All of the flat.
But this is
My flat. I can do what I like with it.
Lucy sprang up.
Eleanor, you cant! Were family!
A family that wants to push me out?
We didnt want to push you out! Just wanted you to leave now and then!
Ill leave. Forever.
Arthur clutched his head.
Mum, lets talk calmly!
Theres nothing to discuss. The decision is final. Tomorrow the realtor starts showing the place.
Where will we go?
Rent somewhere or buy your own. You earn well.
This isnt fair!
Its unfair to keep a mother alive in her own home, Eleanor said, standing. As the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, Eleanor tucked the old brass key into her coat pocket, stepped into the hallway, and let the echo of their quarrels fade into the whispering wind.
