When Emily and James married, they dreamed of having their own place one day. They lived in a quiet village near Manchester, relying only on each other. Emily’s parents couldn’t help, and James had been raised by his grandmother, Margaret Williams, so he had no wish to return to her home. His mother, Linda, was hardly part of his life—she only visited now and then to see Margaret. To James, she was little more than a stranger, caught up with her new husband and their young daughter.
They took out a mortgage and worked tirelessly, determined to pay it down quickly so they could start a family. James borrowed a small sum from his mother but repaid it in no time. For five years, they scrimped and saved until the mortgage was nearly settled. Relief washed over them—even if Emily took maternity leave, they could manage the payments. And then, finally ready, they discovered they were expecting. That very evening, as they prepared to celebrate, there was a sharp knock at the door. It was Linda. Her unannounced visit felt like a storm crashing through a clear sky.
“What’s the occasion?” she sneered, eyeing them.
They shared their news, but she barely blinked. Instead of congratulations, she snapped, “That’s not why I’m here. James, your sister Charlotte is getting married. She’s got nowhere to live. Your grandmother’s moving in with you, so make space for her.”
“Why us?” James stared.
“She raised you—be grateful and do your part,” Linda cut back.
“Mum, she has her own flat! Why should Charlotte take it?”
The argument ended in a flurry of accusations before Linda slammed the door behind her. The next day, Margaret arrived, clutching her handkerchief, her cheeks wet with tears. “I’m just a burden, no one wants me,” she whispered, and Emily’s heart broke. James held her close. “Don’t cry, Gran. We’ll sort it.” But already, Emily sensed their peace was about to unravel.
Margaret’s arrival brought chaos. Linda began turning up unannounced, day or night, insisting she had every right to see her mother. After each visit, small things vanished—a vase she’d admired, a figurine from the shelf. Emily bit her tongue, but resentment simmered. Then Charlotte took Margaret’s television—the one they’d bought so she could watch her favourite programmes. Margaret confessed that her granddaughter had simply packed it up and left without a word. Worse still, Charlotte pocketed her entire pension, leaving the old woman with nothing.
One day, Margaret finally snapped. “If you miss me so much, Linda, I can always go back. Charlotte hasn’t any children, but James is about to become a father.”
After that, Linda’s visits dwindled—fear, perhaps, that her mother might reclaim the flat. A year after their son was born, Emily returned to work, and Margaret happily took charge of her great-grandchild. They began dreaming of a bigger house; their two-bedroom was too cramped now. One evening, Margaret beamed. “Charlotte’s expecting and wants my help. But I’m settled here now—I shan’t go. Let’s find a three-bedroom and wait for our little princess!”
Emily believes it will happen. Yet whenever she recalls Margaret’s tears or Linda’s cruelty, anger still rises. Their family has earned its peace, and she’ll guard it fiercely against those who see them only for what they can take.
