Emma and I had been married for six years. When our son, Oliver, was born we decided to sell the little flat wed been living in, take out a mortgage and buy something bigger. We imagined Oliver soon needing his own bedroom and us finally having a place where we could be alone.
We toured the new house and, when we bought it, the title was registered solely in my name, making me the only legal owner. Because we purchased it after we were married, any future divorce would mean the property would be split fiftyfifty between me and James. Of course, we could also have credited my share to the deposit wed gathered from selling my premarriage flat.
When we bought our home we never thought divorce would ever be a question. Then something went wrong. Maybe we simply grew tired of each other, or maybe life just swept us apart.
Im sure James confided his worries to his mother, Margaret. He probably meant well, seeking a womans advice, but the outcome was the exact opposite of what he expected.
A few days ago Margaret called, saying shed come for dinner. Her visit unnerved me; usually were the ones who travel to see her. Jamess mother rarely makes the trip, always claiming its too inconvenient to get to us. I wondered if she really missed her grandson or her son. I decided to prepare a roast and a cake anyway.
Margaret arrived while James was still at work. I was in the kitchen setting the table when she walked straight to me, ignoring Olivers presence, and said, Emma, we need to talk seriously. Ive heard you and James are having problems, and if you divorce, youll leave my son out in the cold.
I was almost speechless. I shot back, Where did that idea come from? And why are you interested in how James and I divide our assets? Weve talked about this for years.
She replied, Im not happy with the way things are. I know how nowadays wives can take everything from their husbands. Women will do anything just to get a house. Thats why Im demanding you split the property now, before a nasty fight erupts. I think you should transfer half of the house to my son, so he isnt left homeless if things go wrong.
Her words knocked the wind out of me.
I retorted, Do you even realise half of that house was bought with the money we got from selling my old flat? And Ive been paying the mortgage since I returned from maternity leave.
She snapped, In a divorce, any assets acquired during the marriage must be divided equally. Have you spoken to my son about this?
I said, I wont involve him. Men shouldnt meddle in these matters. I can decide on my own.
She hissed, Listen to me! I wont argue with you any longer. James and I can decide what to do without your input. Thank you for your helpful advice, but Im done talking about this. You can wait until your son gets home from work, but Im stepping out for a walk, and you can leave then.
I went to change my clothes, and three minutes later the front door slammed. James walked in half an hour after Margaret left, bewildered that his mother hadnt waited for him. I tried to recount the whole exchange as calmly as possible. When the tension finally eased, he said he knew nothing of his mothers plans and hadnt discussed the matter with her.
James promised hed have a serious word with Margaret, making it clear she should stop raising these issues. After she left, I struggled to calm myself. Perhaps I said something rash in the heat of the moment, but I also believed it was better to set a firm boundary, even with family.
