**My House, My Rules**
“Gloria Margaret, did you eat my cheese scones *again*?” Alice stands in the middle of the kitchen, clutching an empty packet.
“I thought they were for sharing” I start lamely.
“Sharing? I bought those specifically for Lily! Shes allergic to everything else!”
Daniel stumbles out of his room, hair tousled from his night shift.
“Mum, seriously? We agreedleft shelf is ours!”
The *left shelf*. In my own fridge, there are now *their* shelves and *our* shelves. A year and a half ago, they moved in “temporarily.” Until they found a place. Temporary turned into a permanent nightmare.
“Grandma Gloria, wheres my backpack?” Max tears through the flat.
“Grandad, have you seen my doll?” Lily tugs at my husbands sleeve.
Victor hides behind his newspaper on the balconythe only place left to escape in his own home.
“Thats it!” Alice suddenly shouts. “I cant take it anymore! Daniel, either we move out, or Im taking the kids to my mums!”
“Move where?” he snaps. “Rent for eight hundred quid a month? Weve got the car loan!”
“Then sell the car!”
“Are you mad? How am I supposed to get to work?”
The kids start crying. I try to calm them, but Alice pulls Lily from my arms.
“We dont need help!”
I retreat to my bedroom. The front door slamsDaniels gone. Then, the sound of children crying, Alice yelling.
In *my* flat. *My* house, where Victor and I lived for thirty years.
By evening, everyone pretends nothing happened. Dinner is silent. The kids poke at their plates. Alice pointedly ignores Daniel.
“Dad, pass the salt,” he mutters.
Victor hands it over without a word. He hardly speaks these daysworn out by other peoples arguments in his own home.
After dinner, Daniel lingers in the kitchen.
“Mum, sorry about earlier. Alice is just stressed.”
“I understand.”
“No, you dont!” he bursts out. “You dont know what its likeliving with your parents at thirty-five! Feeling like a failure!”
“Love”
“Dont. I know its hard for you too. But weve got nowhere else to go.”
I stay quiet. What is there to say?
At night, I lie awake. Victor tosses in the living roomnow the kids room. Through the wall, Lily sobs as Alice rocks her.
Morning brings the crash of a dropped plate. Max looks up, guilty.
“Never mind,” I say, sweeping up the pieces.
“Mumll be cross,” he whispers.
“We wont tell her.”
He hugs mesmall, warm, mine. Id bear anything for these grandchildren. But for how long?
A week later, Daniel comes home odd. Thoughtful, but not gloomy.
“Mum, Dad, we need to talk.”
We sit at the kitchen table. Alice puts the kids to bed.
“Ive decided. Im taking a mortgage. Buying a house.”
“What?” My chest tightens. “A *mortgage*? Thats so much money!”
“Its the only way. Were all going mad.”
“Twenty years of repayments!” Victor finally speaks up.
“Ill manage. Found a place on the next street. Small, but ours.”
“Next street?” I echo.
“Yeah. So you can see the grandkids. And we if you ever need help.”
I study my son. When did he grow up? When did the boy who couldnt find his socks become this man?
“Does Alice know?”
“Not yet. Wanted to talk to you first.”
Victor stands, claps him on the shoulder.
“Good call. A man should have his own home.”
Daniel exhalesrelieved, I suppose. That evening, he talks to Alice. I hear her cryingjoy or fear, who knows?
The mortgage paperwork, house hunting, stressit all blurs. Alice flip-flops between excitement and panic.
“Gloria Margaret, what if we cant afford it? What if Daniel loses his job?”
“Youll manage. Youre young. Strong.”
“But *twenty years*!”
“But itll be *yours*.”
Moving day. The removal men haul boxes. The kids race between housesours and theirs, five minutes apart.
“Grandma Gloria, Ive got my own room now!” Lily drags me upstairs.
A tiny attic room. But *hers*.
“Lovely! Decorate it, and itll be a palace!”
That evening, we squeeze into their new place for a housewarming. Cramped, but the moods different. Alice laughs. Daniel jokes. The kids show off their corners.
“Mum, sorry,” Daniel says suddenly. “For the last year and a half.”
“Oh, stop! Were family!”
“Exactly. And family shouldnt live on top of each other.”
Victor raises his glass. “To the new house! And visiting each other properly!”
Well always be here. Alice hugs me.
“Thank you. For putting up with us.”
“Oh, hush!”
But shes right. We did. And we made it.
First night back in our empty flat. Quiet. *Too* quiet.
“Vic Vic, can you hear that?”
“What?”
“Its *silent*.”
He laughs. “Finally!”
Morning comesno chaos in the kitchen. Just coffee and the news.
The doorbell rings.
“Grandma Gloria, can I come in?” Max holds up his schoolbag.
“Course! Does Mum know?”
“She said go to Grandmasits *peaceful* there!”
There it is. Now the grandkids *visit*. They dont live on our heads.
We settle at the table for maths homework. An hour later, Lily bursts in.
“Grandma, Mums making pancakes! Wants you and Grandad over!”
We go. Alice smiles by the stove.
“Thought Id treat everyone! First pancakes in the new house!”
We squeeze around their little table. Cramped, but cosy. And best of allwell go home afterwards.
“Gloria Margaret, could the kids stay with you this weekend?” Alice asks. “Daniel and I want to look at wallpaper in town.”
“Of course! Delighted!”
And I mean it. Because now its a joy, not an obligation.
A month later, Daniel pops in after work.
“Mum, can I borrow the ladder? Need to put up a curtain rail.”
“Take it! In the shed!”
Victor goes to help. Returns grinning.
“Theyre doing well. Making it their own.”
Alice brings over a pie.
“Used your recipe! Try it!”
I do. Its good. She beams.
“FunnyI never liked cooking before. But now*my* kitchen, *my* rules!”
There it is. The magic word*my*.
That evening, my friend calls.
“Gloria, coffee tomorrow at yours?”
“Perfect!”
No worrying about disturbing Alice. No kids underfoot. *My* house, *my* guests.
Daniel changes before our eyes. No more moping. Now hes Mr. Handymanfixing the roof, painting the fence, planting veggies.
“Tomatoes!” he boasts. “Homegrown!”
Alice is different too. Calm. Happy. When she visits now, she *talks*.
“Gloria Margaret, teach me your meatball recipe? Daniel keeps raving about them!”
So I do. Side by side in *my* kitchen, where Im still mistress.
The kids dash between houses. Homework at ours. Weekends split between homes.
“Grandma, can we watch cartoons at yours?” Max hugs me.
“Any time!”
No fretting about Alices approval. *My* house, *my* rules, *my* grandkids visiting.
One day, Alice arrives in tears.
“Mum!” First time shes called me that. “Daniel fell down the stairs! Think hes broken his leg!”
We rush over. Victor calls an ambulance. I mind the kids while Alice goes to hospital.
Eveningthey return. Daniel on crutches, leg in plaster.
“Fracture,” he grumbles. “Month off work, minimum.”
“Couldve been worse!”
The next weeks are tough. No work, no pay. The mortgage looms.
“Maybe we should move back?” Alice ventures.
“No!” Daniel wont hear it. “Well cope!”
And they do. We help with food, childcare. But they stay *there*.
“You know,” Alice says once, “even like this *own* is better. Doesnt matter how small.”
Shes right. A thousand times right.
Daniel recovers, returns
