Many years ago, in a quiet corner of London, Eleanor was washing the breakfast dishes when her mother-in-law, Margaret, rang. Little Oliver, just six months old, slept peacefully in his pram on the balcony, giving her a rare moment of quiet.
“Ellie, love, Ive a favour to ask,” Margaret began, her voice warm but hesitant. “Id love to see my grandson. Might I come for a visit?”
Eleanor sensed no mischief. Margaret lived in Cornwall, and they rarely met. Since Olivers birth, their contact had been limited to the occasional phone call.
“Of course, Margaret, do come. You really ought to see Oliverhes growing so quickly.”
“How long may I stay? A week, perhaps?”
“Yes, thats fine,” Eleanor agreed generously. “The sofa in the parlour folds outyoull be quite comfortable.”
Margaret sounded delighted. “Oh, thank you, dear. Ill be there in a few days. Ive already booked my train ticket, just in case.”
Eleanor smiled. After hanging up, she told her husband, William, of the impending visit.
“Fine, let her come,” he agreed. “Its been too long since Ive seen Mother.”
Three days later, Eleanor received a message from Margaret:
“Arriving todayno need to fetch me, Ill take a cab.”
Eleanor prepared the parlour sofa, stocked the pantry, and even bought a cake.
Margaret arrived that evening with two large suitcases and a broad smile. But behind her, a mans figure lingered in the hallway.
“Ellie, dear, meet George,” Margaret announced cheerfully. “Hes a friend of mine. He had business in London, so we thought wed travel together and introduce him.”
Eleanor stared at the strangera man in his sixties, silver-haired, in a worn suit, clutching a scuffed suitcase.
“How do you do?” she murmured.
“Pleasure to meet you,” George replied, extending his hand. “Margarets told me so much about you.”
Eleanor ushered them into the parlour, struggling to make sense of it all.
She whispered to Margaret, “Where will George stay? You never mentioned bringing a guest.”
“Whats the matter?” Margaret said, surprised. “The sofas large enough. George isnt fussy.”
Eleanor stood in the middle of the room, trying to digest the situation. Their rented flat, meant for three, would now house five.
“Margaret, I only prepared for one. Weve the babytheres hardly space.”
Margaret waved a hand. “Dont fret, dear. We shant take up much room. Isnt that right, George?”
The man nodded, surveying the flat with interest. “Lovely place. Decent neighbourhood, good transport. Perfect for job hunting.”
“Job hunting?” Eleanor repeated.
“Aye, Ive decided to settle in London,” George explained. “No prospects back home, but hereI might find something.”
Eleanor felt her head spin. So he wasnt just visiting for a few days.
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“Oh, as long as it takes,” Margaret said breezily. “George needs time to find work.”
Eleanor masked her dismay and retreated to the kitchen to prepare supper. Just then, William returned from work.
“Hullo, hows things? Has Mother arrived?”
“She has. And shes not alone.”
William stopped. “What dyou mean?”
“Shes brought a gentleman friend. Go meet George.”
William entered the parlour where Margaret was showing George family photos on her mobile.
“Mother, you never said youd be bringing a guest.”
“William, darling,” Margaret beamed. “Now youll finally meet him. George, this is my son.”
The men shook hands. George smiled warmly. “Margarets spoken highly of you. Youve built a fine family.”
“Thanks,” William replied tersely. “Mother, may we talk?”
They stepped into the kitchen. Eleanor pretended to busy herself with cooking but listened.
“Mother, have you lost your senses? Bringing a stranger into our home?”
“William, lower your voice. George is a good manweve been friends half a year.”
“Be friends all you like, but not under our roof!”
Margaret looked hurt. “So this is how it is. A mothers just a nuisance. I thought my son would be pleased.”
William sighed. “Its not about you. You shouldve warned us. Weve a babyroutine, quiet matters.”
“Well be no trouble,” Margaret promised. “And it wont be long. George just needs time to settle.”
In the end, William relented. Turning his mother and her friend out wouldve been unseemly, and Eleanor stayed silent, unwilling to press the matter.
The first few days passed smoothly enough. Margaret doted on Oliver, while George scoured job listings. But soon, inconveniences arose.
Mornings meant a queue for the loo as George took ages shaving. Margaret cooked breakfast for all without asking preferences. Evenings were spent with the guests watching telly in the parlour while the young family huddled in the bedroom.
“Ellie, youve a laptop, havent you?” George asked one evening. “I need to send out my CV.”
“We do,” Eleanor said. “But we use it for work.”
“Ill only borrow it brieflystrictly for business.”
George stationed himself with the laptop in the parlour, spending hours calling potential employersloudly.
“Aye, decades of experience. Assistant foreman back in Bristol. Whats age got to do with it? Im still sharp as a tack.”
Oliver, startled by the noise, woke crying. Eleanor soothed him while George carried on.
“Apologies, thats the grandson. Still a babe, you understand.”
Margaret tried to help with Oliver, but her methods clashed with Eleanors.
“Ellie, why pick him up the moment he cries? A bit of wailing strengthens the lungs.”
“Margaret, hes hungry.”
“He cant behe fed an hour ago. Must be teething.”
Eleanor bit her tongue.
By weeks end, patience wore thin. George remained unemployed but undeterred. Margaret acted as though she owned the place.
“Ellie, whys the fridge so bare?” she asked, peering inside. “You ought to stock proper food.”
“We buy what we eat,” Eleanor replied.
“Need something hearty, not just yoghurts and cheese. George needs proper meals while job-hunting.”
Eleanor was stunned by the audacity but held her tongue. Their household budget was already stretched. The guests had only been to the shops once.
Worse were Georges calls to friends:
“Jerry, old chap! Im in London now. Staying with my ladys son. Fine setuptwo-bedder in a posh area.”
Eleanor listened in disbelief. So they were housing and feeding a strangerand he boasted about it.
The breaking point came when Oliver fell ill. Feverish and fretful, he slept poorly. Eleanor spent nights tending him, only for George to demand quiet for his calls.
“Sorry, but the babys poorly,” she said.
“I understand, but this is a potential employer! Its important!”
William overheard and snapped.
“Mother, how long is this going on?”
“William, be patient. George needs to get settled.”
“And if he doesnt? Will he live here till retirement?”
Margaret gasped. “How could you say that? Were family!”
“Hes not,” William said firmly. “I want you both gone. Two daysno more.”
Margaret wept. George sulked. But William stood firm. Two days later, they left for Cornwall.
Before departing, Margaret told William, “Pity I shant see my grandson for a while.”
The rift lingered. Eleanor vowed never to host guests again, even for a night. Hospitality had its limitsespecially in a rented flat with a baby.
What do you think? Did the son act rightly, or was he too harsh? Share your thoughts in the comments.
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