«You have no right to behave like this in my home!» Emily’s voice trembled with barely restrained fury. She stood in the hallway, clutching her handbag to her chest like a shield.
«This is my flat, Margaret! Mine!»
Something like contempt flickered in her mother-in-law’s eyes.
«And what am I to do if you can’t keep the place tidy?» Margaret hissed through clenched teeth. «Dust on the shelves, dirty dishes in the sink. Is this how proper people live?»
Emily gripped the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her chest burned with helpless frustration.
«I work, Margaret! I dont always have time»
«You make time for what matters,» Margaret cut in, lifting her chin as she marched toward the door. «Im only trying to help, and instead of gratitude, I get cheek.»
The door clicked shut, leaving Emily alone in the silent flat. The quiet pressed against her ears, but inside, a storm still raged. She kicked off her heels and wandered from the living room to the kitchen, then the bedroomeach space marked by Margarets «help.»
The bedroom was worst. Her mother-in-law must have finished tidying moments before she arrived. The hand cream from the bedside table was gone. The little porcelain hare from their holiday in Cornwall had vanished from the dresser.
Emily paced like a caged animal, hands shaking with anger. Shed come home exhausted, dreaming of a shower, of tea in her favourite mug Now, in her own flat, nothing was where it should be.
The front door clicked. James was back from work. One look at his wife standing lost in the kitchen and he knewsomething had happened.
«Em, whats wrong?» He moved to hug her, but Emily twisted away.
«Your mother was here again!» Her voice cracked. «She was cleaning our bedroom! Our bedroom, James! Dont you see how wrong that is?»
James sighed, running a hand through his hair. She knew that gesturehis tell when he had no answer.
«Love, she means well»
«Means well?» Emilys eyes darkened. «I cant find my phone charger! My favourite mugs movedIve been looking for half an hour! And shes hidden the bath towels somewhere!»
James reached for her hands, but Emily stepped back to the window.
«She keeps throwing things away, James!» Emily blinked back tears. «Things that matter to me! And she calls it rubbish!»
«Em, Mum just shows love this way,» James said softly. «Shes used to everything in its place»
«I dont want her kind of love!» Emily snapped. «Im sick of another woman ruling my home! Your mother moves things, decides what I need. Im sick of it!»
Emily sank onto a chair, covering her face. Her shoulders shook. James hesitated, then carefully wrapped his arms around her.
«Sorry, love. Ill talk to her, alright? Ask her to stop.»
Emily gave a bitter laugh.
«And shell listen, of course. As if.»
James soothed her as best he could. Made her tea. Found her mugtucked in the back of a cupboard.
But Margaret didnt stop.
Three days later, Emily came home and knew at onceMargaret had been back. The air smelled of her heavy, cloying perfume. The kitchen jars stood in rigid size order. The fridge contents were arranged with infuriating precision.
Emily dropped onto the sofa. Anger simmered, but she had no energy left to fight.
A week later, it happened again. This time, Margaret had «organised» the wardrobe. All Emilys clothes had been rearranged. Her favourite dress, always hung at the end for easy reach, was crumpled on the top shelf.
Emily blinked back tears. Her home no longer felt safe. Every evening, she wonderedhad Margaret been in today? What had she moved, hidden, thrown out this time?
On Friday evening, the phone rang.
«Yes, Mum Of course Saturday? Alright, well be there Yes, Ill tell her.»
James turned to Emily with a guilty look.
«Mums invited us for dinner tomorrow. Says she has news.»
Emily froze.
«Do we have to go?»
«Em, dont be childish. Shes gone to trouble. Cooked your favourites.»
Saturday evening, they climbed the stairs to Margarets fifth-floor flat (no lift in the old council block). Emily dragged her feet, wishing herself anywhere elsework, the Tube, even the dentist.
«Itll be fine,» James squeezed her hand. «Mums made that pie you liked last time.»
Emily forced a smile.
At dinner, Margaret chatted only to Jamesneighbour gossip, a new telly show, market prices. Emily pushed food around her plate in silence.
«Emily, not hungry?» Margaret finally addressed her.
«Just thinking,» Emily muttered.
«Well,» Margaret set down her fork. «My news. Im off to a spa with Gloria. Ten days, for my back.»
«Brilliant, Mum!» James beamed. «You need a break.»
«Yes,» Margaret nodded, pulling a keyring from her apron. «Heres my spare set. Just in case. And could you water my plants?»
Emily stared at the keys. Two on a plain metal ring. A plan uncoiled in her mind. She smiled.
The next week, Emily floated through work humming. Colleagues noticed the change.
«Whats got you so cheerful?» James asked at dinner.
«Just happy,» Emily shrugged.
The day before Margarets return, Emily left work early. «Doctors appointment,» she said.
Now she stood outside Margarets flat, keys in hand, heart pounding. My turn, she thought, and turned the lock.
On Sunday, they met Margaret at the station. She looked refreshed, chattering about treatments and new friends.
«Imagineporridge with honey and nuts! Ill make it at home.»
Emily stayed quiet, stomach knotted.
Margaret opened her front doorand froze. A beat. Then another. She stepped inside, gaze darting around.
«What what is this?» Her voice shook.
She rushed to the living room. Spotlessbut nothing was where it belonged.
«My figurines!» Margaret lunged for the display cabinet. «Where are they?»
She tore through the flat, checking drawers, shelves. Her face purpled. At last, she whirled on Emily, eyes blazing.
«You!» she spat. «You did this!»
Emily lifted her chin, a faint smile playing on her lips.
«Yes, me,» she said sweetly. Then, with mock surprise: «Dont you like it? I thought youd appreciate not having to clean when you got back.»
James gaped between them, silent.
«Oh, and» Emily added lightly, «I threw out those old figurines. And the teacups. You never used them, did you? Just clutter. Like my things, remember?»
«You had no right!» Margaret shrieked. «My home! My things! How dare you?»
«You tidied mine,» Emily said calmly. «Not nice, is it?»
«James!» Margaret turned to her son. «Are you hearing this?»
James opened his mouthbut Emily cut in:
«Goodness, look at the time! We must dash.» She hooked her arm through Jamess. «But Ill pop round again, Margaret. Wouldnt want to neglect my helpful duties!»
She steered a stunned James outside. Only once they reached the pavement did he exhale:
«Bloody hell, Em…»
Emily grinned. Warm satisfaction spread through her. Perfect.
…Two months passed. Margaret never set foot in their flat again.
Emily smiled to herself. Victory.
