Look after my mum, its not that hard, Valentina said, though she sounded more like a pleading aunt than a calm neighbour.
Emily, she continued, you understand that my mother isnt the same as she used to be. Age, a touch of dementia, her memory is slipping. The doctors say she needs supervision. Id do it myself, but work and the kids and youre already doing remote work from home, arent you? It shouldnt be a problem, right?
Emily pressed her lips together. She really was working from the flat, translating documents and occasionally holding online consultations. Her schedule was flexible, but that didnt mean she had endless free time.
Valentina, Im not sure what to say, Emily began cautiously. Ive never dealt with this sort of thing. Maybe we should hire a livein carer? Or move her into a care home where professionals look after her?
Valentinas eyes flashed with indignation.
A care home?! How could you suggest that! Shes my mother, not some piece of furniture to be stored away. I wont hand her over to strangers. Were family, remember?
Emily glanced at James, hoping for a word of support, but he didnt even look up from his phone.
Emily, its not a big ask, James finally said, still scrolling. Just pop in in the morning, pop in at night. Feed her, help a bit. Nothing complicated, youll manage.
Emily sighed. Arguing would be pointless. Besides, they were still living in Valentinas flatshed kindly let the newlyweds stay there after the wedding while they saved for their own place. Turning them away now would feel ungrateful.
Alright, Emily whispered. Ill give it a go.
Valentinas face brightened. She got up, walked around the kitchen table and embraced her daughterinlaw tightly.
Thank you, love. You have no idea how much this means. Ill give you the keys and write down the address. Mum lives just a fifteenminute walk away. Only one thing, Emilyshe can be you know, a bit touchy. Dont mind if she says something odd. Okay?
Emily nodded, feeling she could handle it. What could be harder than looking after an elderly lady?
The next morning she discovered the answer.
Marthas flat was in an ageing terraced house on a quiet suburb of Manchester. The walls were peeling, the stairs creaked with every step. Emily climbed to the third floor, knocked, and waited. Inside there was a thump, then shuffling footsteps, and finally the click of a lock.
The door swung open to reveal a stooped old woman in a threadbare dressing gown. Martha stared at Emily with cloudy eyes.
What do you want? she rasped.
Good morning, Mrs. Parker. Im Emily, Jamess wife. Valentina asked me to help you. May I come in?
Martha snorted but stepped aside. Emily entered the hallway and was immediately hit by a wave of stale air, medicine fumes and something vaguely sour. The flat was a messmagazines, torn slippers, halfopened packets of pills on the little table by the mirror, and the kitchen reeked of burnt toast.
What would you like for breakfast? I can make something, Emily offered, trying to sound cheerful.
Martha snapped back, I dont want anything! Who sent you? Valentina? Another spy sent by her?
Emily blinked. Spy?
Im just trying to help
Help! the old lady echoed mockingly. All of you pretend to be caring, then wait for me to die so you can snag the flat!
Emily stood frozen. Marthas words were so sharp there was no room for retort. She slipped into the kitchen, turned the kettle on and rummaged through the fridge: a couple of eggs, a slice of ham and a stale loaf of bread. Nothing fancyshe could make scrambled eggs.
As she cooked, Martha plonked onto a stool by the door and launched a tirade.
Youre always late. Yesterday Valentina promised to come, didnt she? Liar! And you, youll eat me out of house and then claim theres nothing left.
Emily flipped the eggs in silence, trying not to let the old womans barbs get to her.
When the plates were ready, Emily set one before Martha. The lady glanced at the scrambled eggs, took a bite, grimaced and pushed the plate away.
Disgusting. Oversalted. Cant you cook?
Emily bit her lip. She tasted the eggs herselfjust the right amount of salt.
Mrs. Parker, you need to eat, otherwise you cant take your medication.
Dont tell me what to do! I know when Im hungry!
Martha shuffled back into her room and slammed the door. Emily stared at the untouched plate, a flicker of irritation rising inside her, but she swallowed it down. The day had only just begun.
That evening, when Emily returned, the same pattern repeated. Martha refused dinner, spat out her pills and accused Emily of plotting to steal from her. Emily pleaded, explained, but it was all for naught. By nightfall her head throbbed.
James met her at the kitchen doorway.
Hows it going? he asked, nonchalant.
Tough, Emily admitted, sitting heavily on a chair. Your mum shes a nightmare. Yelling, being rude, wont eat anything.
James shrugged. Shes old. My mother warned me. Hang in there, Em. Its not forever.
Emily wanted to ask what he meant by not forever, but she kept quiet as he disappeared down the hallway, the door closing with a soft click.
A week passed, then another. Emily visited Martha twice a day, cooking, tidying, trying to impose some order. Her own translation work slipped to the late hours, and she was up until midnight before heading back to the flat to tend to her own landlords demands.
Martha never softened. In fact, she grew more demanding. The teas too cold, shed complain, the soups too hot, or Youre speaking too loudly, then too quietly. She hurled objects, shouted, called Emily a freeloader and a leech. Emily clenched her fists, stayed quiet, but patience, like a candle, eventually burns out.
A month later, Marthas condition worsened. She stopped getting out of bed, ate barely anything, and kept moaning about aches. Emily called a doctor. He examined her, prescribed new medication and warned that her health was serious.
That evening Emily collapsed onto the sofa at home, utterly exhausted, tears refusing to come. She just stared at the ceiling.
The next day Valentina popped in, eyes bright with expectation.
Emily, hows mum?
Not good, Emily replied wearily. The doctor says she needs constant care. I cant keep this up, Valentina. Im worn out. I need work, I need rest. I cant do it.
Valentinas voice turned icecold.
So youre refusing?
Im not refusing, Im asking for help. Lets hire a carer, or
Hire a carer! Valentina shouted. What, you think Ive got money to spare? Remember, this is your duty, Emily. We gave you a roof, a place to stay. Show a bit of gratitude, even a splash of it!
Emilys hands curled into fists.
Valentina, Ive spent a month looking after your mumcooking, cleaning, putting up with her rants. I work nights to make it all fit. I cant go on.
You cant? Then pack your things and get out! Oleg, did you hear that?
Emily turned. James stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
Emily, your mothers right, he said evenly. You should help the family. Youre a woman, after all. We should be grateful for the roof we live under.
Emily stood, a sudden weight lifting from her chest.
Fine, she said calmly. I understand. Everything.
Valentina gasped, James blinked as if trying to process what hed just heard.
Emily, what are you doing? Where are you going? James asked, bewildered.
But Emily had already slipped into the bedroom, rummaged out a small bag and began packing. It wasnt muchclothes, documents, her laptopmost of her belongings stayed with her parents when she moved in with James.
James followed, watching her pack, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation.
Emily, stop. You cant just leave.
I can, she replied, zipping the bag.
Where to? Back to your parents?
Yes. Then Ill find my own flat and well get a divorce. The flat isnt ours anyway.
James opened his mouth, but no words came. Emily walked past him, out the hallway where Valentina stood, pale and bewildered.
Emily, where are you going?
I’m leaving. Thanks for the hospitality, Emily said, stepping out into the street. She took a deep breath, a faint smile curling on her lips as relief washed over her.
The divorce was processed quickly; James didnt even attend the hearing. Emily received the decree, tucked it away in a drawer and never looked at it again.
She moved into a modest onebedroom flat and began living for herselfpeaceful, steady, free of shouting and constant tension. The year slipped by almost unnoticed.
One afternoon, Emily met her old friend Lucy at a café. They chatted about work, summer plans, and then Lucy asked, Did you hear what happened to your exinlaws mother?
Emily lifted her teacup.
No. Whats the story?
She passed away a few months ago. Valentina caused a whole scandal in the neighbourhood. Turns out the old lady had left the flat to a distant relativea niece, I think. Valentina tried to fight it, claimed her mother was insane, but the will was signed five years earlier when Martha was still of sound mind.
Emily froze.
So the flat went to someone else?
Lucy nodded.
Exactly. Valentina wanted the flat to stay in the family, but she was really after the property, not the care. She used you as freeofcharge help so she could look like a doting daughterinlaw.
Emily leaned back, a warm sense of justice bubbling up. Well, thats satisfying, she said with a halfsmile.
Lucy chuckled. Yeah, Valentinas still living with James, barely getting by. Money always seems short. Life didnt turn out the way she planned.
Emily finished her tea and stood. Lucy, fancy a coffee? And maybe a slice of cake? And a cheeky glass of bubbly?
Lucy laughed. Celebrating something?
Just celebrating the fact that life can be delightfully unpredictable, Emily replied.
Later, they walked down the high street, Emilys steps light, almost buoyant. Perhaps shed been a bit too pleased with someone elses misfortune, but Valentina had tried to drain her, then discard her. The universe had handed her a small, deserved victory. And that was enough.
