The doorbell rang with a sharp chime that shattered the silence of the flat. Without so much as a greetingand nearly bowling over her own son in the narrow hallwayPamela Wright burst in, a whirlwind of indignation clinging to the heels of her sensible shoes.
“Right, Emma,” she declared, arms folded and chin raised, “tell me, what secrets are you keeping from my son?”
“Mother, what on earth is going on?” Tom asked, bewildered, steadying himself after her brisk shove.
When Tom had come home earlier, the flat was quietthe type of heavy quiet that settles when someone is working late. Emma had texted him that morning, apologising in advance about the late finisha last-minute audit, the office in a state. Hed wandered into the kitchen, checked the fridgeno sign of dinner. With a resigned sigh, he flicked the kettle on, threw together a couple of ham sandwiches, and settled in front of the telly, scrolling until he landed on Match of the Day. Hed barely managed one bite before the doorbell interrupted.
Now, his mother commandeered the kitchen with an air of purpose. “Tom, listen to what Ive just been toldMaureen from church told me herself!”
Tom frowned. “Whats happened, Mum?”
“Its your Emma. Shes got another flat,” Pamela announced, waving her handbag in the air. “Shes been letting it out for cashand keeping every penny from you!”
“Mum, you cant go listening to Maureen,” Tom protested, rubbing his forehead. “She hasn’t met a rumour she doesnt like. You sit with her, swallowing every word.”
“This is different! Maureens niece is living in that very flatknocked down price, too. Twelve hundred a month and over the moon for it. And its not the firstshes been letting it out for over two years, with nobody the wiser!”
Tom swallowed hard. “Thats odd. Why wouldnt she tell me?”
Pamela, righteously indignant, pressed on. “Ask her yourself when she gets in, though its obviousshes squirrelled away a little just in case. The moment shes got enough, shell leave you behind, and take every last pound with her.”
Emma arrived home an hour later, finding Tom and Pamela together in the lounge, both watching as if waiting for a confessional. Pamela, unable to sit idle, had whipped up supper and fed her son, all the while nursing a sense of impending justice.
As Emma entered, Pamela fixed her with a stare. “Go on then, Emmawhat little secrets have you been hiding from Tom?”
Emma set her bag down with a bemused huff. “I dont have any secrets, at least none I know of.”
“No secrets, you say? And what about the flat on Marlowe Avenue, number 43?”
Emma raised her brows. “What does my flat have to do with secrets from Tom?”
Pamela leaned in, voice crisp. “Youve been letting it out, havent you? And not telling Tom a thing about your windfall.”
Tom, usually reticent, cleared his throat. “Is that true, Emma? Where did that flat come from and why didnt you mention it? And wheres all this money going?”
Emma pursed her lips, tempering her exasperation. “It was left to me by Aunt RuthMums cousin. I suppose that makes her my great-aunt, though I can never keep these things straight. She passed nearly three years ago. I did tell you at the timeyou said, and Im quoting, so you finally dont have to keep popping round to that old dears. And when I asked for help with the funeral, you told me you were swamped at work.”
Pamela cut in. “And why did she leave it to you?”
“Likely because I was the only one who visited her. No one else bothered,” Emma retorted flatly.
“But why keep it from Tom?”
Emma bristled. “Why would Tom care about my inheritance?”
Pamela gasped. “Hes your husband, thats why!”
Emma shrugged. “And?”
Pamela, exasperated, threw her hands up. “Dont play the fool! That rent should go towards the family. But youre hoarding it for yourself!”
Emmas voice was low but ironclad. “Its mine by law and by right. An inheritance is personal property, and the income from itmine alone. I dont owe anyone a reckoning.”
Toms words came, tinged with hurt. “Last year, I spent a fortune fixing the cartwo bonuses gone just like that. All the while, you had money put away and said nothing? I expected better.”
Emma set her jaw. “Its *your* car, Tom. You drive it, you decide whats convenient. When I ask for a lift, you say youre busy or suggest a taxi. In the past year, you gave me three lifts: once to the market at Christmas, once when youd forgotten your keys at work, and once to A&E when I twisted my ankle. Should I fund your car repairs when I barely use it myself?”
Pamela, her curiosity piqued, asked, “So how much have you actually saved, then? A tidy sum, I bet.”
Emma folded her arms. “Theres something, but nothing outrageous. Tell me, Tom, when did you last send money to your girls at university?”
Tom fidgeted. “Theyre both working now, arent they?”
Emma glared. “They study and take odd jobs. If they have to work full time, when will they study? Thats where my money goes.”
Tom, cheeks reddening, returned to the point. “So why keep the inheritance secret for so long?”
Emmas mouth set in a thin line. “Because I didnt want two and a half years of this cross-examination. And another thingI saw what happened when your mother here persuaded your brothers wife to sell her pre-marriage flat to buy a summer cottage. Whose name is on the deed now, Pamela? Not hers. And now she can only visit with your explicit permission, never mind inviting anyone for a barbecue! But shes always welcome to weed your veg patch. Thank you, but Ill pass.”
“Youre utterly selfish, Emma!” Pamela snapped.
Emma gave her mother-in-law a cold smile. “From the best, Pamela. The moment you caught wind, here you came. And for what?”
Pamela stiffened. “To tell Tom the truth!”
“Well, now he knows. So what now?”
Pamela squared her shoulders. “Well be expecting those funds to help the familynot just yourself.”
Emma stood tall. “They *do* help the familyas and where I see fit. On the girls. Not on Toms car, or your shed at your summer cottage!”
Pamela pleaded, “But we could make decisions together as a family”
Emmas patience wore thin. “Do you not think, at forty-six, I know how to manage whats mine?”
“You cant just think of yourself!” Pamela pleaded.
“And who should I put firstif not my own children and husband? That, Pamela, is my family. The rest are extended relations.”
There was nothing Pamela could say to shake Emmas resolve. She would try again, at every opportunity, for her fair share, as she called it. But Emma remained unmoved, immune to every ploy.
She wasnt to be browbeaten. As they sayshe stood her ground and would not be shifted.
