Mum, thats my flat, not a rental, right? I asked. No, love, yours is a rental and mine is freedom!
And here we could put a wardrobe against that wall, said Margaret Archer, sweeping her eyes across the sittingroom. Wed just have to move the armchair; its terrible anyway. Where will you put it, Beth?
Evelyn blinked. She hadnt realised that the woman wasnt a TV interiordesigner but her motherinlaw. And here was actually her own flat the one shed bought with her own money after twentyeight years of freelancing, endless projects, coffeesaving, and selfsacrificing.
Ill probably have to wear it on my head, Evelyn replied slowly, standing up. I didnt catch that. Are you moving out?
Oh, were just talking, Margaret said, smiling with more triumph than warmth. Denis and I just looked. And what? A spacious flat, designer finish. The rented place is cramped, and Pauls after his ridiculous crash is buried in debt. Besides, you know family is family.
The word family slipped from her motherinlaws mouth as if Evelyn didnt count as one.
Youre clever, Beth, you earn your own wages; youll be fine. Were old where will we scoot around in a rental corner?
Youre only sixtyfive, Evelyn snapped. Thats not even retirement, thats active longevity. Youre doing crosswords, visiting the garden centre. What does my flat have to do with it?
Margaret pursed her lips, tightened her jaw and produced her favourite weapon.
By the way, I gave you that husband. Hes the one who looked after you when you were in and out of hospitals with your anemia. And now his brothers in trouble you turn your back on us?
When his brother crashed Dads car into a lamppost with a stranger in the passenger seat, Evelyn managed to keep her voice steady, nobody bothered to call and ask if we should move in with you while Paul patches up his moral and financial wounds.
Beth, said Denis from the kitchen, pretending to be busy, were just discussing. No ones claiming anything.
Evelyn walked to the door and whispered:
While you discuss, Ill keep living in my flat, the one you seem to want to turn into a Hall of Fame for Paul. Not happening.
She took a breath, hoped she wouldnt shout, and slipped into the bedroom.
Denis and she didnt speak for three days. Hed pop in with a Do you need anything from the shop? or Forgot Moms birthday on Saturday? Shed nod or act deaf. A thick, sticky silence settled in the flat not the calm kind, but the sort that hides resentment behind every wall.
Saturday changed everything.
Beth, Denis stared out the window as if ready to jump, I know its hard for you. The parents have no other way out. The mortgage is on Dad, the flats already on the market. In a month theyll be out on the street. And you
What?
Youre strong, youll find a way. We could stay in a rental for a couple of months, then figure something out.
She wanted to smash him with a frying pan, then hug him, but settled on a question:
So I have to leave my own home because your parents have once again botched their lives?
Thats not it. We just you have more options.
I have more brains. I didnt fling them around in strangers cars like your brother, nor let his wife move in without the owners sayso, Evelyn sneered. Want a tip, Dennis?
How?
Pack your stuff and scram.
He froze, for the first time in their whole relationship, unsure what to say. She saw not a husband, not a protector, but a vague shadow.
Im not leaving, he exhaled. This is my home too.
Bought with my money.
But were family, Beth. Isnt family about sacrifice?
Sacrifice is when youre asked. Its not being handed a fact. Do you know the difference between a victim and a fool? A victim gets to choose.
She didnt scream or weep. She simply hauled a suitcase his suitcase into the hallway.
You can go wherever you like: rent a studio, crash at Moms, even sleep on your brothers head. But this is my flat, and it stays mine. You and your greatminded mother can forget the way here.
He left, emptyhanded, eyes like a beaten dog. At the door he warned,
Youll regret this. Nobody lives alone forever.
She watched him go, thinking: Im not alone. I have myself. He, however, clearly doesnt know who he is with.
That evening a knock sounded. Beth opened the door to find Sophie, her best friend, squeezed in.
Whats with you? Sophie hugged her with one arm. You just told me last week, Sophie, hes not that bad. And now?
Evelyn poured herself a glass of red.
Now hes like his mum: a wardrobe and a plan for my bedroom.
Sophie burst out laughing.
You knew his mother was a fury. Why did you get involved?
He seemed sane.
Seemed is the key word. Beth, shall we head south? Youve got a forced holiday now.
Im not going anywhere. Ill stay here with a glass of wine. When that cursed wardrobe shows up, Ill throw it off the balcony myself, from the third floor.
Sophie giggled, then fell silent.
And if he comes back?
Evelyn stared at her wine, replaying the week in her mind.
Then Ill buy a drill and smash the lock that only I know the code for.
Saturday, ten a.m., as Beth was setting the kettle and mentally gearing up for a manfree day, a courier from CityMart rang. She thought it must be her new blender. She opened the door and froze.
Standing there was Margaret Archer, suitcase in hand, with Paul Archer Deniss lanky brother in tracksuits, a face that mixed misery and a hope for a free ride and beside them, Paul Archer Sr., short, balding, looking like a pensioner whod been worn out since 1987.
Good morning, Margaret said as if theyd arranged tea, well be staying only a couple of months while the flat sells.
Evelyn could not answer; she had no words left.
Beth, interjected Paul Sr., excuse us, the situation is beyond our control. Weve talked with your motherinlaw; shell let us in once the works done. Denis said youre okay with us staying here.
Denis? Beth finally found her voice. Did he say that before or after I kicked him out?
Did you fight? Margaret asked, already stepping over the threshold. We just want a peaceful solution. Dont be angry, Beth. Were family.
Family in someone elses flat, flashed through Beths mind.
Paul began hauling his suitcase, smelling of cigarettes and last years garage oil.
Paul, dont drag that over the door, Margaret hissed. Bad omen.
An omen is when youre invited in, not when you stage an occupation, Beth muttered, unheard.
They settled in. Paul flopped onto the sofa, legs up on the coffee table. Paul Sr. inspected the balcony and asked,
Is smoking allowed?
Silence is allowed, Beth snapped. And leaving quickly.
Margaret plonked herself in the kitchen, pulling out a jar of pickled onions, a bag of buckwheat and some baking molds.
I brought a few things so you dont have to worry. Well live together like proper people. I love order, and my hand is light. Everything grows!
You mean potatoes in the bathroom? Beth retorted. Or a cactus in a saucepan? I remember.
Beth, cut the sarcasm. Times are hard for everyone. You and Denis should stick together. Im a mother; I care.
You cared when you forced your borscht on us every Sunday, even after I asked you not to. You cared when you tried to push me into a new job because teachers have stability. And you certainly cared when you turned up at my flat unannounced with suitcases. Thats an invasion, Margaret. Playing war?
Paul chimed in,
Beth, you know we have nowhere else. My brother said youre reasonable.
He was wrong. So are you.
Beth dialled Denis; he answered on the third ring.
Hi. Im in a meeting
Right, a meeting. Ive got your family here with suitcases, your brother, your mother, your father. You said Im okay with that?
A long silence stretched like gum on a shoe sole.
I thought youd sort it out. Youre not a monster. Youve got a big heart
Yeah, and now theres a huge hole. Its yours. Youre free from me and this flat. Good luck. And remember, your mum has a light touch on the shelves.
She hung up. By evening Margaret was settling in.
Beth, we were thinking can we use the bedroom? You stay in the lounge?
No.
Youre alone, were three.
Exactly. Three for one is what Ive been waiting for my whole life. Butno.
Youre selfish, Margaret said. A woman should be gentle.
A man should rent if hes an adult, or marry someone with a flat like my husband.
Youve gotten fullfat, the motherinlaw snapped. At your age people dont live alone.
And you live off other peoples money at your age. Funny, isnt it?
Monday morning Beth headed to work with a single thought: smoke them all before its too late.
At the reception, security guard Nina Wilson stopped her.
Beth, a young man came by saying he was from the housing board, wanted your number. I didnt give it.
Which board?
No idea, but he was cute, carried a backpack. In the backpack a plastic wardrobe! Can you imagine?
Beth finally got it a plastic wardrobe, Margaret, a sign.
That night she knocked on the downstairs flat of Olive Peterson, the perpetually complaining pensioner.
Olive, if you hear shouting, the smell of borscht, call the police. My relatives are invading.
Invading? Olive nodded. Ill help.
The next morning Beth called the local constable. He arrived with paperwork.
Good afternoon, the officer said, looking weary, we have a report that youre illegally occupying this flat.
Illegal? Margaret shrieked.
Are you the owner? he asked, scanning the documents.
No but shes my daughterinlaw! Beth replied, sliding over the papers.
Margaret turned as white as a sheet. Paul ducked into the bathroom, Paul Sr. cleared his throat. The officer nodded.
You have an hour to pack up, or well treat this as a squat.
They left in silence, without farewells. As they reached the door, Margaret muttered,
Youll learn what loneliness feels like.
Beth shut the door, sat on the floor and laughed.
Loneliness is living with people who never hear you. Here, silence was finally hers, and the kettle only boiled when she wanted it to. She stood, walked to her bedroom, and spotted a small plastic wardrobe in the corner, a note tucked inside:
Just so you remember well be back. Love, M.A.
A week later the flat was spotless, like a freshly sterilised operating theatre. Beth took a quiet pleasure in closing doors with a satisfied sigh. She sipped tea in the evening, no Paul on the sofa, no simmering stew on the stove.
Occasionally she caught herself listening to the stairwell, especially on Saturdays, when neighbours whispered that Margaret had moved in with a distant cousin in Birley. There was a balcony without doubleglazing and a cat with a murderous stare.
She kept the tiny wardrobe in the storage cupboard a reminder, a symbol.
Saturday, seven p.m., as Beth was polishing glasses for nothing more than order, a knock sounded.
It wasnt the council. It was Denis, in new jeans, a bouquet of chrysanthemums like a funeral wreath, his mother trailing behind in a furcollared coat, face stretched tight as if pulled to a psychiatric appointment. Beside them stood a blonde woman with a round belly and dolllike lashes, holding a pot of borscht.
Beth exhaled.
New episode? Or did you decide to introduce us?
Beth, Denis began, this is Olga. Were together well, were together. And shes expecting
What, already? Beth smirked. Its barely been a month since you were evicted.
Weve known each other for ages, Olga interjected, just never found the right moment to tell you.
Well, now the moments here, spill it all.
Margaret stood, mouth a brick, lips twitching.
Denis scratched his head.
Weve been together since last November. I didnt want to break the marriage I thought we might still have a chance then you threw me out, and it became clear everything was over.
I didnt throw you out. I saved myself. What do you want now?
We want Denis started, to sell the flat.
Silence.
Beth laughed, the kind of laugh you give to con artists at a train station.
The flat? This one? My flat? Sell it?
But its in both our names, Denis protested. We bought it together.
Then we divorced, and I bought your share. Remember the bank transfer? I have the receipt and the signed note. Ask a solicitor, or ask your new friend, if shes a law graduate.
Olga bit her lip.
We thought youd share
Of course, Beth said, handing over a spoon. Heres a spoon, heres a bowl. Ill share my borscht.
She carried the pot to the hallway, set it on the mat, slammed the door, locked both bolts.
Margarets voice echoed from the other side:
Beth, youll regret this! When old age comes youll be alone!
Better alone than with you and your borscht.
A week later a court summons arrived, demanding the sale be challenged.
Beth sat in the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and found the plastic wardrobe, a monument to absurdity, with a note: Well be back. Love, M.A.
Oh, youre back, Beth said, but not for long.
She pulled out a folder of bank statements, transfer confirmations, the signed agreement, screenshots of messages, photos of Denis with Olga from last year. All of it.
Then the phone rang.
Hello, is this Lydia Whitmore? This is Evelyn Carter. Remember you said youd help if I ever wanted to sell? Yes, the time has come. Not you buying, but me buying through you a mortgage, bankfinanced, tomorrow.
The hearing lasted twenty minutes. Beth placed the documents on the table, looked at Denis, and said:
I sold the flat yesterday. Here are the papers. The buyer is the bank.
The judge glanced at the paperwork, then at Denis.
Mr. Pritchard, your claim is dismissed. No grounds to contest. You should be grateful anyone ever lived with such a woman.
Beth didnt smile; she simply stood.
As she left the courtroom, Denis caught up.
You realize youve left us all homelessShe turned the lock, walked away, and finally tasted the sweet freedom of her own quiet kitchen.
