Mums not well and shell be staying with usyoull have to look after her! announced John to his wife, Emily.
Im sorry, what? Emily carefully lowered her phone, having just been checking her work emails and trying to ignore the dinner dishes.
John stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, the look of a man whod just declared a royal edict, and was expecting immediate compliance.
I said Mum is moving in for a bit. She needs round-the-clock help. The GP reckons at least two or three monthsmaybe longer. Its all sorted.
Emily felt something cold and tight winding slowly around her insides.
And when exactly did you decide this? she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as she could manage.
This morning. Spoke to Annamy sisterand the doctor. The decisions made.
Right. So the three of you sorted it out and left me in the dark until the grand announcement?
Johns brow furrowed. Not so much annoyed, more like a man surprised to find his wife wasnt beaming with gratitude for this newfound family duty.
Come on, Em, you know its my mum. Who else will have her? Annas in Manchester, two kids under five, full-time job Weve got a big enough house, and youre home most days
I work five days a week, John. Full-time. Nine till seven, sometimes later. You do remember that?
So? Mum wont be any trouble. She just needs someone about. Give her her pills, warm up her dinner, help to the loo if need be Youll manage.
Emily studied her husband and felt a strange numbness growing. Not rage, not yet. Just the bone-deep certainty that he genuinely believed this arrangement was, as the English say, not up for discussion. Her job, her exhaustion, her free timeall apparently negotiable, trumped by Mums needs.
Did you think about a carer? she asked quietly.
John pulled a face. You know how much that costs. At least thirteen hundred a month for a decent one. Where are we getting that sort of money?
Did you consider taking unpaid leave? Or at least going part-time for a bit?
He looked at her as if shed suggested base jumping off the roof.
Em, my jobs important. They wont let me off for months at a time! Besides, Im hardly a nursenot exactly up to injecting things or checking her blood pressure
And you think I am? Emilys voice was calm, not a hint of volume. Just a question.
He hesitated for the first time all evening, the penny beginning, ever so slowly, to drop.
Well youre a woman, he finally offered, with such genuine conviction that Emily almost snorted with laughter. You know, women are just better at this sort of thing its instinct.
She gave a slow, deliberate nod, more to herself than to him.
Instinct, yes. Of course.
John shifted awkwardly.
Fine, lets do this. You take unpaid leave for two months, Ill keep working. We share Mum-care: I do evenings and weekends, you do weekdays. Deal?
Johns mouth opened, then closed, like a goldfish in a suit.
Emily, are you serious?
Completely.
But I told you, I cant take time off!
Then we hire a carer. Ill split the cost with you half and half. Even sixty-forty if youre worried about my salary. But what Im not doing is taking on sole responsibility for your mother on top of my job without so much as a discussion. Thats not happening.
A thick silence descended, broken only by the clunk of the old wall clock above the fridge.
John coughed, peering at her.
So youre refusing?
No, Emily met his gaze, Im refusing to be an unpaid full-time nurse while juggling my own job, without anyone even asking my opinion. Big difference.
For a long minute, he just looked at her. As if he wasnt sure if she was joking, or had really meant it.
You know shes my mother? He sounded genuinely affronted now; the kind of disappointment that men keep tucked away for big occasions.
I know, Emily replied softly. And thats why Im offering a solution that keeps us all sane. Including your mum.
John spun and strode out, door banging behind him. Not loud, but definite.
Emily sat at the table, staring into her cold tea. The same thought looped in her mind, remarkably detached: Well, here we go. This is just the beginning.
She knew John would ring his sister, then his mother, then Anna again. Within the hour, his mum would be at the doorshe lived ten minutes away and always did hear everything. There would be a family meeting, complete with accusations that Emily was cold, selfish, not cut out for family life, that shed forgotten what it means to be part of a family.
But there was something else she understood, suddenly, so very clearly.
She wasnt going to apologise anymore for wanting more than four hours of sleep a night. Or for treating her job as more than a quaint pastime. Or for expecting her nerves, veins and life not to be handed over wholesale to the altar of ceaseless care.
She went to the window and opened it wide.
Cold night air bustled in, bringing the faint scent of damp tarmac and distant woodsmoke from someones garden bonfire.
Emily took a deep breath.
Let them say what they will, she thought. The important thing is Ive finally said my first no.
And that no was the loudest thing shed managed in twelve years of marriage.
The next morning, Emily woke to the sound of the front door being unlocked. The key turned twicecautious, almost apologetic. Shuffling footsteps, a dry, rattly cough.
She lay there, unmoving, listening to the methodical removal of coat, the setting down of a worn bag, the careful tugging off of shoes. The start of hostilities, delivered under the guise of needing help.
Johnny? Marys voice managed to sound both frail and martial, the kind thats led many a PTA meeting astray. Are you home?
John, who clearly hadnt slept, responded promptly and too cheerily, Home, Mum! Kettles on, come through to the kitchen!
Emily closed her eyes. He didnt even tell me she was coming today. Just did it.
She forced herself up, slung on a dressing gown and padded into the hall.
Mary stood in the hallwaytiny and hunched, in a battered blue wool coat. Ten-year-old, at least. In one hand, a bulging pharmacy bag; in the other, a timeworn thermos. On seeing Emily, she managed a smiletired, pinched, with just a hint of her usual superiority complex.
Good morning, Emily. Sorry for the early start. The doctor said its best I move in as soon as possible.
Emily nodded.
Morning, Mary.
John appeared, bearing tea, dry toast, and pills on a tray.
Mum, go lie down in the big room. Ive made up the sofa bed for you.
And who will help me unpack? Mary fixed her gaze on Emily. Will you help, dear?
Emily felt a familiar throb at her temples.
Of course, she replied. After work.
After work? Marys voice climbed a semi-tone. But wholl be with me today?
John shuffled, now visibly uncomfortable. Ive got work this morning, Mum. But Im coming home early, just after lunch. Em and here he turned to his wife with the best puppy dog eyes he could muster, maybe you could take the day off?
Emilys stare could have drilled holes through brickwork.
Ive got a client presentation today, John. Not remotely optional.
And after that? Mary was now peeling off her coat with exaggerated effort. Could you help then?
Ill be back my usual time. About seven. Maybe half seven.
A silence, thick enough to butter your toast, descended.
Mary sank onto the shoe bench, the very picture of stoic suffering.
So I shall be all alone then?
John shot his wife a desperate look.
Emily replied, voice cool and steady, Mary, Ill prepare your meals for the day and set your tablets out with times written on them. If you need anything urgent, ring me. I’ll pick up even if I’m in the middle of my meeting.
Mary pursed her lips.
And what if I fall? Or take the wrong pill?
Then call the ambulance. Thats far better than waiting for me to get across London.
John opened his mouth, thought better of it.
Mary looked at her son.
Johnny did you hear?
Mum, he said quietly, Emilys right, you know. Were not trained for this. If its serious, you need paramedics.
Emily was surprisedthis was the first Emily’s right shed heard in, what, seven years?
Mary stood, a little shakily.
Very well, she muttered. If thats the way, then thats the way.
She shuffled off to her room, dignity trailing somewhere behind her.
John turned to Emily.
You could have at least
No, John. I couldnt. And I wont.
She strode into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water and knocked it back.
John came in behind her.
Em I know this is hard. But shes my mum.
I know.
And shes genuinely not well.
I do believe you.
So, then, why?
Emily swung round.
Because if I just say yes now, it sets a precedent. Ill be the family nurse forever. Dont you get it?
He said nothing.
I love you, she said, but I dont want our marriage to dissolve because one of us decided the others life doesnt matter.
John hung his head.
Ill talk to Anna. Maybe she can make it down for weekends.
That would help.
He looked up.
Will youare you angry with me?
Emily gave a faint smilethe kind thats more tired than cross.
I already am. But Im not planning to stay that way forever.
He nodded.
Ill try to make it better.
Emily glanced at the clock.
I need to get ready. My presentations in two hours.
She walked to the bedroom. John lingered in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of a mug.
The day, astonishingly, passed without disaster. Emily nailed her presentation, the client delighted and talking bonuses for speedy delivery. She left the office at half six, a lighter heart than shed felt in ages.
On the Tube home, she texted John:
Hows your mum?
Reply came instantly: Sleeping. Been home since three. Cooked dinner. Were waiting for you.
Something about waiting for you tugged at Emilyso domestic, so like old times.
They really were waiting.
On the table: salad, roast fish, potatoes. Mary sat in her armchair, reading. On seeing Emily enter, she put her book down.
Emily, youre back.
I am.
Sit, eat. John did it all. Even washed up.
Emily looked at her husband, who shrugged, as if to say, Dont make a fuss.
She sat.
Mary cleared her throat.
Ive been thinking maybe we should look for a carer. At least during the day. Poor John is taking time off work, and
Emily raised her eyes.
That would be sensible.
Ill ring Anna, John added. Ask her to chip in. She said shed think about it.
Mary sighed.
Never thought Id see the day a stranger would be changing my incontinence pads
No ones a stranger, Mum, John replied softly. Were still family. Just with boundaries.
Emily looked at her mother-in-law, who was unusually silent for a while.
Boundaries, yes, Mary eventually said, nodding slowly. Time I learned.
Marys phone rang at that precise moment.
She glanced at the screen.
Anna, she said.
John answered, Hi, yeah yes, Mums fine listen, we need help, not just money. Can you come down next weekend? Lets talk.
He hung up and looked at Emily.
Shes coming.
Emily nodded.
Good.
For the first time in ages, she wasnt dreading walking through the front door.
Not because the house was quiet.
But becausefor oncepeople were listening.
Three weeks went by.
Mary was coughing less and managing hot drinks again without a fanfare. Most importantly, the flat was quieternot the strained silence of people tiptoeing around, but the calm of grown-ups genuinely making it up as they went along.
That Saturday, Anna arrived from Manchester.
Two enormous bags, small daughter in tow, a guilt-ridden smile.
Hi Mum Em, John Sorry it took so long.
Mary, by the window, turned at glacial speed, trying not to betray any joy.
Oh, so you made it.
Course I did, Anna said, dropping bags, handing Emily a toddler, and stepping over to her mum. Promised, didnt I?
Emily stood at the kitchen door, observing, withholding judgement.
Anna knelt by Marys chair.
Mum, John and I had a long chat last night. Heres what were thinking.
She produced a neatly folded flyer.
Carerqualified, references, comes nine to seven, five days a week. Weekendsits us.
Mary fumbled for her glasses, skimmed it, glanced at John.
And the money?
We split costs three ways, John said evenly. You, me, Anna. Fair shares.
Fair shares Mary echoed, as if the phrase had a funny taste.
Anna nodded.
Mum, none of us can drop work and commit full-time. But you need proper support. Thats it, really.
For the first time, Emily spoke up.
Weve already found someone, Mary. Her names Dorothy. Fifty-eight, two decades of experience. Shes coming to meet us all tomorrow.
Mary was silent for a moment.
She looked at Emilyreally looked, not with suspicion, but almost respect.
You couldve just said no and left, you know. A lot of people would.
Emily shrugged.
I could have. But it wouldnt have helped anyoneleast of all you.
Mary dropped her gaze.
Ive thought a lot, these last weeks. Sitting on my own. Thought being a mother meant everyone else wellshould fit around me. Turns out, its my turn to start fitting in.
Anna squeezed her hand.
No ones telling you to bend over backwards, Mum. Just trying to breathe, all of us.
Mary glanced at each of them.
Im sorry, Emilygenuinely. I thought I was entitled to demand.
Emily felt something unclench deep inside.
Thank you, Mary. Apology accepted.
Mary offered a weak smilethis time, for once, without a hint of superiority.
Well then lets meet this Dorothy. If youre all set on me no longer being Queen of this Castle.
John grinneda real grin, first in weeks.
Not Queen, not a deity. Just our mum. Who we love. And will look afterproperly.
That evening, when Anna and her daughter had left for the train, Mary dozed in her room.
Emily and John sat in the kitchen, lights low.
He poured her a glass of wine, poured one for himself.
You know, he said, I thought youd leave.
Emily cocked an eyebrow.
Honestly?
When you said no that first night, I was sure it was over. That youd pack up and tell me to sort my own mess.
She twirled her glass.
I had that thought. Crossed my mind.
What stopped you?
It was a long silence.
I realised if I left now, Id never know if you could step up to being the man who actually carries his share. Instead of just talking about it.
John set his glass down.
Ive learned a lot these past weeks. Still learning.
Ive noticed.
He looked up.
Thank you for giving me the chance.
She smiled. Not bitterlykindly.
Thank you for taking it.
They clinked glasses, softly, with a hint of ceremony.
Outside, snow was falling for the first time that winterthe big, silent, magical flakes that settle over London and change nothing except how kind the streetlights look, and how muffled everything sounds.
In Marys bedroom, a small nightlight kept vigil.
And in their own room, for the first time in ages, there was no smell of antiseptic, no frettingjust the warm, slightly giddy sense of something new beginning. Home, at last. Their home.
