Did you hear? She signed yesterday, she moves in tomorrow, the son says in the hallway.
Eleanor, look at these prices! his neighbour Dorothy points at the shop window. Theyre asking £4 for a kilo of tomatoes! Thats daylight robbery!
Its a proper nightmare, Eleanor sighs, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. You could live on a pension once, now youre just scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Do you live alone? Doesnt your son help? Dorothy asks.
I live with my son. James is always busy, works long hours. He brings in the money, but you barely see him at home.
At least hes around, Dorothy mutters. My children all moved away, I only see my grandchildren on holidays.
They say goodbye, and Eleanor heads home, her arms aching from the shopping bags, her legs throbbing. At sixtythree, the aches are becoming a daily visitor.
The flat greets her with silence. James isnt there, as usual. She puts the groceries away, turns on the kettle, and settles by the window with a mug of tea, watching the grey autumn courtyard.
Her life is calm and orderly. Her husband died fifteen years ago, and she has learned to manage on her own. She raised James, gave him an education, and helped him stand on his own feet.
James is thirtyfive, a wellpaid software engineer at a large firm. They share a threebedroom flat that her late husband inherited from the factory. James occupies one room, Eleanor another, and the third is the living room. They each lead separate lives, meeting only for dinner, and even then not every night.
Eleanor doesnt complain. James is a good son, contributes financially, doesnt drink, and keeps out of trouble. His love life, however, is a string of shortterm flings, never anything serious.
Mom, dont rush me, he says when she gently brings up marriage. Ill find the right one when the time comes.
Now, it seems, he has. Over the past six months hes been staying out later, coming home less often. He answers her questions evasively, but Eleanor can see the spark of love in his eyes.
Will you introduce me to her? she asks one evening.
I will, Mum. When the moment is right.
The moment arrives unexpectedly. Eleanor is washing dishes after dinner when the front door swings open. James returns earlier than usual.
Mum, are you home? his voice sounds excited.
Im in the kitchen!
He steps into the doorway, hair dishevelled, eyes bright. Eleanor instantly knows something big has happened.
Ive got something to tell you.
Go on, Im listening.
James walks into the sitting room, Eleanor follows. He paces nervously, searching for the right words.
We signed the papers yesterday; Sarah is moving in tomorrow, he finally blurts, stopping in the centre of the room.
Eleanor drops onto a chair, the world tilting around her.
What? she manages to gasp.
I got married. Yesterday. Sarah will be here tomorrow.
James, youre joking?
No, Mum. Im serious.
But why didnt you tell me?
It just… happened quickly.
Spontaneously? You got married on a whim? Eleanors voice trembles.
Dont start, Mum. Im an adult, I make my own decisions.
I havent even seen this Sarah!
Youll meet her tomorrow. Shes a good person, youll like her.
Eleanor sits, unable to move. The shock is so intense that words stick in her throat.
Please say something, Mum, James kneels beside her.
What should I say? Congratulations? After youve already signed?
Its not a warning, its a fact!
Sorry, thats how it turned out.
She rises, retreats to her bedroom, closes the door, and collapses onto the bed, her face buried in her hands. Tears stream down her cheeks, but she holds back sobs.
James married without her consent or blessing. A stranger will move into their home tomorrow, and she is left to wonder whether to be happy for him.
She doesnt sleep at all that night, tossing and turning, replaying the news over and over. Who is Sarah? Why the rush? Could she be pregnant?
In the morning she rises with a heavy head and red eyes. James has already left for work, leaving a note on the kitchen counter: Mum, well be back this evening. Please make something for dinner. Love you.
Love you sounds easy to write. How does she feel?
She automatically begins cooking. She pots up a hearty beef stew, fries some meatballs, and tosses together a salad. Her hands move on autopilot, her mind still racing.
By evening she has cleaned the floors, wiped the dust, set the table. The flat looks tidy and cosy, but a pair of cats seem to be clawing at her heart.
The front door opens around eight oclock. Eleanor stands at the kitchen sink, drying her hands with a towel, heart thudding as if it might leap out.
Mum, were home! James calls, his voice bright.
She steps into the hallway. James stands with a woman. She is tall, slim, with long blonde hair, bright makeup, looking about twentyfive.
Mum, this is Sarah.
Hello, Sarah says, extending a hand, smiling.
Hello, Eleanor shakes the cool hand.
Sarah wears an expensive leather jacket, stylish jeans, a gold chain glinting at her neck, looking like she stepped off a magazine cover.
James told me you were cooking dinner. How lovely! Sarah chirps, removing her jacket.
Jamess nickname Jazzy makes Eleanor wince; no one has ever called him that before.
Come into the kitchen, Eleanor says curtly.
During dinner Sarah chatters nonstop, boasting about the wedding, how wonderful James is, how happy she feels. James gazes at her with adoring eyes, catching every word.
Eleanor eats the stew in silence, occasionally nodding. Everything feels wrong. The airy young woman, Jamess sudden affection, the abruptness of it all.
May I call you Mum? Sarah suddenly asks, batting her lashes.
Whatever you like, Eleanor replies coolly.
Oh, how wonderful! I dont have a mother; she passed away long ago. And now I have a marvelous motherinlaw!
After dinner James shows Sarah around the flat. Eleanor stays to clear the table, hearing their voices and Sarahs laughter echo through the rooms.
This will be our bedroom, James says.
And where will Mum sleep? Sarah asks.
She has her own room, of course.
Eleanor presses her lips together, realizing Sarah thinks shell give up her space.
That night, after the young couple settles into Jamess room, Eleanor retreats to hers. She hears muffled voices and giggles through the walls, feeling lonely and bitter.
Morning finds her up early, as usual. She heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. An hour later Sarah appears, yawning and stretching.
Good morning, Mum! she sings.
Good morning, Eleanor grumbles.
Oh, youre already making breakfast? How thoughtful!
I always make breakfast.
Im not much of a breakfast person. Just tea, really.
James likes a big breakfast.
Itll grow on you, Sarah says, pouring herself coffee.
Eleanor flips cottage cheese pancakes on the stove, thinking Sarah will soon try to change Jamess habits.
James arrives, sits at the table. Eleanor places a plate of pancakes before him and pours tea.
Thanks, Mum, he smiles.
James, are you really going to eat that? So many calories! Sarah grimaces.
I always have this for breakfast.
Id watch my figure if I were you.
James looks from his wife to his mother, Eleanor turns away, trying not to show the ache inside.
After breakfast Sarah begins unpacking. Shes brought three huge suitcases and a mountain of boxes, spreading them across Jamess room, hanging clothes in the wardrobe.
James, where do I put my makeup? Theres no space!
Well find somewhere.
Maybe Mum can clear a shelf in the bathroom?
Eleanor, passing by, stops.
There are no free shelves in the bathroom.
What? Theres a whole cabinet! Sarah scoops out.
Its my stuff.
Can you shift it a bit?
I cant.
Sarah pouts, looking at James.
Mum, could you please free up one shelf? James asks.
Eleanor silently goes into the bathroom, rearranges her own jars, frees a shelf, then returns to the bedroom and closes the door. Tears well up again. She feels like an outsider in her own house.
A week passes. Sarah settles in, moving furniture, hanging pictures.
Eleanor, shall we rearrange the sofa in the living room? It would look cozier, she suggests.
Its been in that spot for twenty years, Eleanor replies.
Change is good!
I dont need change.
Oh, come on! James, tell Mum itll be better!
James darts between his wife and his mother, trying to please both. The sofa is eventually moved. Eleanor says nothing, retreating to her room.
Sarah dislikes cooking. She eats ready meals, leaves dirty dishes, and Eleanor silently cleans up after her.
Mum, youre such a good housewife! Sarah admires. I cant cook at all.
You could learn.
Why? Youre excellent already.
Eleanor realises Sarah is using her, preferring to offload everything onto her motherinlaw.
One evening Eleanor decides to go to the shop. Sarah lounges on the sofa, watching TV.
Sarah, could you pick up some bread? Im feeling tired.
Oh, Im exhausted today! Can James get it?
James is at work.
Then youll have to go yourself, you always do.
Eleanor grabs a bag and leaves, tears still burning behind her eyes. The thought of her daughterinlaw not even offering to help hurts.
She trudges up the stairs, the heavy bag pulling at her arm, her chest aching. She rests on the landing, catching her breath.
At home Sarah remains on the sofa, James still absent.
Ah, youre back! What did you buy?
Eleanor silently heads to the kitchen, unpacking the groceries. Her hands shake, heart pounding.
That night at dinner Sarah announces,
James, lets throw a party! Invite my friends!
Great idea, James enthuses.
Mum, are you okay with that? Sarah asks, though it sounds more like a demand.
Does anyone care about my opinion? Eleanor sighs.
Come on, Mum, dont be like that, James protests.
Its my house, I can do what I want.
Sarah claps her hands. Well be quiet, I promise!
No.
James, tell her!
James looks between his mother and his wife.
Mum, please. Sarah wants to celebrate our wedding with friends.
The wedding was a month ago.
Better late than never!
Eleanor stands from the table.
Do whatever you like. Ill go to Dorothys.
The party goes ahead on Saturday. Sarah invites ten noisy young people, they arrive with bottles, turn up the music.
Eleanor retires to Dorothys flat, sipping tea, venting.
Darling, thats classic! Dorothy shakes her head. A young wife always tries to push the motherinlaw out!
Im not getting in their way!
Youre a hurdle just by existing. She needs the flat to feel shes the lady of the house.
Its my flat!
Then fight for it, or theyll trample you.
Eleanor returns home late, the music still blaring. She locks herself in her bedroom.
Morning finds the flat in disarray: dirty dishes, cigarette butts, spilled wine on the table. Sarah and James are still asleep.
Eleanor begins cleaning again, washing dishes, wiping counters, mopping the floor. She works for three hours until everything looks presentable.
Sarah wakes at lunch, stumbles into the kitchen, yawning.
Good morning! Oh, youve already tidied up? Thanks!
Youre welcome, Eleanor replies curtly.
Wheres James?
Hes sleeping.
We had such a great time last night! Too bad you werent there!
Im not sorry.
Sarah pours herself coffee.
Eleanor, have you ever thought of moving in with someone? Maybe a friend or a relative?
Eleanor freezes by the stove.
What?
Youre alone, and were a young couple. We need space, you know?
Its my flat.
Formally, yes. But James is your son, so its his too!
The lease is in my name.
Just think of it as family, not paperwork!
Eleanor turns to Sarah.
Im not going anywhere. This is my home.
Sarah sighs, annoyed.
Youll have to rent elsewhere then! Young people need freedom!
Freedom in a threebedroom flat is limited, isnt it?
Exactly! Youre always here, cooking, using the bathroom! I cant relax!
Eleanor leaves the kitchen, trying not to say more. She sits on her bed, hugging her head. She realises theyre trying to push her out of her own house.
That evening she talks to James. He comes home from work, and she calls him over.
James, we need to talk seriously.
Im listening, Mum.
Your wife said I should move out because you all need freedom.
James blushes.
Mum, she didnt mean it like that
What did she mean?
Just wed like a bit of privacy sometimes.
You have your own room.
Thats not enough. We want the whole flat for ourselves.
This is my flat! Ive lived here all my life!
I know, Mum, but maybe we should think about it? Maybe I could stay with Aunt Gail?
Eleanor cant believe what shes hearing. Her own son, the one she raised, is asking her to leave?
James, are you serious?
Yes, Mum. Im tired. Sarah needs to feel like the lady of the house, and when Im here she cant.
Im not in her way!
You are! Youre always criticizing, sighing
Im silent all the time!
But your face looks like youre hurting us!
Youre hurting me! You want to drive me out of my home!
James stands.
You know what, Mum? Im fed up. I try to please everyone and end up hurting everyone. Sarah is my wife, shes more important now.
He walks out. Eleanor sits, staring into emptiness. Her son, her child, now wants her out.
That night she cant sleep. She thinks, plans, decides. By morning she calls a realtor she found online.
I want to sell the flat.
Alright, well arrange a valuation.
The realtor arrives the same day, inspects the property, quotes a price. Eleanor agrees.
Where are you moving to? he asks.
Ill buy a onebedroom flat. I dont need a bigger place.
Many people do that nowgive the big house to the kids, downsize themselves.
Im not giving it away. Im selling and buying for myself.
The realtor shrugs and starts the paperwork.
That evening at dinner Eleanor announces,
Im selling the flat.
James chokes, Sarah drops her fork.
What? they ask together.
Im selling it. Ill buy a onebedroom and live separately.
Mum, youve lost your mind! James turns pale.
No, Im perfectly sane. You wanted freedom, you get it. The whole flat.
Sarah jumps up.
You cant! Were a family!
A family that wants to kick me out?
We didnt want to kick you out! We just wanted you to leave sometimes!
Im leaving. Forever.
James grabs his head.
Mum, lets discuss this calmly.
Theres nothing to discuss. Its decided. The realtor shows the flat tomorrow.
What will we do?
Rent somewhere or buy your own place. You earn well, James.
This isnt fair!
Its not fair for a mother to be driven out of her own home, Eleanor says, standing from the table. Im doing what I think is right.
She retreats to her room, locks the door, hears their raised voices in the kitchen.
The next morning the flat is a mess: dirty dishes, ashtrays, wine spilt. Sarah and James are still asleep.
Eleanor cleans again, washing, wiping, mopping for three hours until everything is tidy.
Sarah wakes at lunch, strolls into the kitchen, yawning.
Good morning! Oh, youve already cleaned? Thank you!
Youre welcome, Eleanor replies dryly.
Wheres James?
Hes still sleeping.
Eleanor finally unlocked the door to her new, modest flat, breathed in the quiet, and felt for the first time in months that she was truly home.
