You should be glad my mum is eating your food, James snapped.
Clara lunged into the hallway as the wardrobe door swung open. Did you put on my boots again? she shouted. I told you not to touch my things!
Darling, whats the tone? Ethel Whitmore adjusted her scarf in front of the mirror. Its miserable out there, and Im only wearing my fancy party shoes. Arent you sorry?
Its not about feeling sorry, Clara crossed her arms, irritation bubbling up. Its about respecting personal space. I never barge into your room or take your stuff.
Ethel pursed her lips, giving Clara that regal stare she internally dubbed queenly: a slow, sideways glance, a slight squint and a patronising smile.
Were so delicate, she cooed. Back in the day, eight people could live in one flat and never complain about personal space.
In your day they might not have complained, Clara muttered, but times have changed.
What are you whispering about? Ethel leaned in, pretending not to hear. Speak up, Im not a spring chicken any more.
Clara took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Living with her motherinlaw for the past three months had been a trial, but theyd had no choice. Their previous twobed flat had been let out to meet the mortgage on a new house. The buildover ran over schedule, so they were now holed up in Ethels cramped tworoom flat in Bristol.
Ill pop to the shop and buy you waterproof boots, Clara forced a smile. So you dont have to suffer.
No, thank you! Ethel waved her hands. My shoe cupboard is already bursting. Better get yourself a pair so you dont waste my boots.
My, Clara thought, not old or everyday, but strictly my. It was a subtle reminder of who owned the choiceto share or not to share.
Fine then, Ethel, she said. Im off to work. Ill be late, Ive got a meeting.
Again? Ethel shook her head. James will come home tired and hungry, and youll be nowhere to be found.
James can heat his own dinner, Clara threw on her coat. Everythings already in the fridge.
Stepping out, she inhaled the damp spring air. The rain had stopped, but the slushy snow underfoot turned into a grey mush. She really does need those boots, Clara admitted, walking toward the bus stop.
At the office the day droned on. Clara was a designer at a printing firm and usually dove headfirst into projects. Today, though, the morning clash kept looping in her mind, along with the missing packet of pricey tea and the incident when Ethel accidentally washed Claras favourite sweater in boiling water.
You look a bit on edge today, colleague Natalie said, joining her at lunch. Motherinlaw again?
Clara managed a weak smile. You can see it, cant you?
Natalie patted her hand sympathetically. Spill the beans.
Nothing major, Clara waved it off. Just the usual domestic annoyances piling up.
What about James?
He loves his mum, I get that, Clara sighed. He tries to stay neutral.
You cant stay neutral forever, Natalie warned. Sooner or later someone has to pick a side. Better for him to choose yours, otherwise
Otherwise what? Clara snapped her head up. Ill leave him because of his mum?
Not because of the mum, but because of his stance, Natalie corrected. Believe me, Ive been there. My first marriage fell apart after five years, largely due to constant motherinlaw battles where James always took his mums side.
Well manage, Clara said confidently. The new house should be finished in a couple of months, and things will settle.
Lets hope, Natalie muttered, a hint of doubt in her voice.
That evening Clara decided to surprise James with ingredients for his favourite carrot cakeperfect for Saturday morning baking. The flat was quiet, only the kitchen light glowing. She slipped off her shoes and entered, freezing at the doorway. Ethel was hunched over a casserole she had prepared for breakfast, the whole tray meant for three.
Clara! Ethel jumped, looking startled. Back already? I thought youd be later.
The meeting got cancelled, Clara said, eyes flickering to the almostempty casserole dish. Wheres James?
Hes out with his mates, said not to wait, Ethel waved a hand. Im having dinner now. The supermarket chicken didnt appeal, so I tried your casserole. Its lovely, by the way!
Clara placed the grocery bags on the table, a thought forming: shed now have to rise an hour earlier to remake breakfast, and shed been hoping to sleep in on Saturday.
This was meant for breakfast, for everyone, she said calmly.
Oops, love! Ethel flapped her hands, but there was no genuine remorse. I thought it was just sitting there. No problem, youll whip up something else tomorrow. Youre such a wizard in the kitchen!
Claras lips tightened. Ethel knew full well the casserole was for breakfast; Clara had mentioned it the night before over dinner while planning the weekend menu.
Alright, Clara said. Ill change.
While unpacking, Clara realised the chocolate shed bought for the cake was missing. She remembered buying two bars.
Ethel, have you seen the chocolate? she asked, returning to the kitchen.
Ethel gave a guilty smile. Oh, dear, I nabbed one bar for my tea. Thought you wouldnt notice.
A wave of fury rose inside Claranot over the chocolate, but over the relentless breach of boundaries, the casual disrespect.
Thats it, she replied shortly. It was for the cake, for James.
Buy another tomorrow, Ethel shrugged. The shops just across the road. No big deal.
Clara nodded, suppressing the sting. She was angry, but didnt want a fullblown argument. What would it achieve? Ethel would just pretend not to see the problem.
James trudged in late, finding Clara already in bed with a book.
Hey, sunshine, he murmured, leaning in for a kiss. How was the day?
Fine, she replied, setting the book aside. And yours?
Great! Met the lads, had a pint at the pub. Long time since weve been out.
Clara hesitated, unsure whether to bring up the eaten casserole and the missing chocolate. She didnt want to seem petty.
Is Mum still up? James asked, pulling his sweater over his head.
No, shes in her room watching telly.
Ill pop in to say hello, he said, heading out.
From the next room, Clara could hear faint laughter. Ethel was probably still chatting about the casserole, perhaps embellishing the story for Jamess benefit.
James returned about twenty minutes later, looking relaxed.
Mum ate your casserole, he said, climbing into bed. Says its fingerlicking good.
Yes, I know, Clara replied dryly. It was for breakfast.
And? James turned to her. Youll make something else, right? At least Mum liked your cooking!
Clara stared at him.
James, its not about the casserole, she said. Its that your mum continually takes my things without asking, eats food I set aside for special occasions, and never respects my opinions.
Come off it, James waved his hand. Its just a casserole. Mum was hungry.
The chocolate for your cake? She just ate it.
What chocolate? James frowned.
I bought it for a surprise tomorrow. Your mum ate it, just because.
So what? Youre upset because she ate a chocolate bar?
Its not the bar, Clara felt tears prick her eyes. She does it to test the boundaries, to show who runs the house.
Rubbish! James sat up, irritated. Youre overreacting. She was just wanting a snack.
Yesterday it was the casserole, today the chocolate, the day before my tea, the day before that my bootsalways something mine, taken without asking.
James stared, bewildered.
You really think every little thing matters? That we should split everything into mine and hers? Were a family!
A family respects personal boundaries, Clara whispered. Asks before taking, doesnt raid the kitchen meant for everyone.
You should be grateful my mum eats your food! It means she likes your cookinga compliment!
Clara stared at him, eyes wide. He seemed oblivious to the problem.
A compliment? she asked. So if I cook dinner and your mum gobbles it up while were out, thats a compliment, not a breach of respect?
Stop dramatising! James snapped, pulling the blanket over himself. Im knackered, had a rough day, and youre making a fuss over a casserole!
He got up, flopped onto the sofa. Im going to crash on the couch. Ive got an early start tomorrow. Good night.
Clara sat alone, tears rolling down her cheeks. Shed hoped James would see her side, but he sided with his mum without even trying to understand.
The next morning Clara woke to the smell of pancakes. Ethel was bustling in the kitchen, and James sat at the table grinning.
Oh, youre up? he said, as if nothing had happened yesterday. Mum decided to treat us. Have a seat.
Reluctantly, Clara sat. Ethel placed a plate of pancakes before her.
Eat up, dear. Ive also made scrambled eggs,ll bring them over.
Thanks, Clara said softly. Just a coffee for me, Im not hungry.
How can you not be hungry? Ethel exclaimed, hands waving. Ive made a feast! Youll offend me if you dont eat.
James watched, waiting for Claras reaction, as if a refusal would start a war.
Fine, she said, taking a fork. Ill have a bit.
Good girl! Ethel patted her head like a child. Youve gotten thin; well put you in a coffin looking prettier.
James snorted but stayed silent. Clara chewed mechanically, thinking this was no longer her home. Was it ever really hers?
After breakfast, once Ethel left for the shop, Clara finally turned to James.
James, we need to talk about your mum, she began, sitting opposite him on the sofa.
Again? he grimaced. Everythings fine, lookshe even made us breakfast.
Thats a nice gesture, Clara agreed. But the issue is the lack of respect for my boundaries. I feel like a guest, not a family member.
James sighed. Clara, my mum is used to running her own house. Its hard for her to change. Bear with it; well move soon.
What will happen when we move? Clara asked quietly. Will she still pop round our new flat, commandeer my things, eat what Ive set aside for everyone?
James looked away. Shell visit now and then. Shes my mum, after all.
You dont see the problem? Clara leaned forward. Im not against your mum, Im against the constant disregard for my space, and you dont seem to get that.
Im bothered that you split everything into yours and hers, James retorted. Were a family; we share.
Sharing is fine, Clara said. But it should be consensual, not because someone takes without asking.
They stared at each other, and Clara realised James still wasnt grasping the core issue. To him, mum would always be untouchable, exempt from criticism or rules. She, on the other hand, felt she had to accept it as fact.
You know what, she finally said, Im going to spend the weekend at Natalies cottage.
What? James raised an eyebrow. All over a casserole?
Its not about the casserole, Clara shook her head wearily. Its that you wont listen to me. I need some time to think.
She stood, heading to the bedroom to pack. James stayed on the sofa, staring at the empty space.
When Clara emerged with her suitcase, he asked, What should I tell my mum?
The truth, she replied. That Ive gone to think about our future. And you should do the same.
She walked out of the flat, feeling an odd lightness. The decision was impulsive, but it felt right. Sometimes you need to step back to see the whole picture.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Natalie confirming the cottage key was with a neighbour. Clara inhaled the crisp spring air, ready for a quiet weekend alone with her thoughts. Later, shed have a serious chat with James about family, boundaries, and respectbecause a family isnt about sacrificing yourself for others, its about everyone honouring each other, even over something as small as a breakfast casserole.
