«Go back to your mother,» ordered the husband, shoving the suitcases out.
«Mum, stop calling him,» Eleanor set her mug down with a sigh. «Peters at workhes got a meeting.»
«At work, is he?» Antonia pursed her lips. «I know all about these meetings. Same as last night when he rolled in at midnight? Reeked of whisky from a mile off.»
Eleanor rubbed her temples. Since she and Peter had moved in with her mum, every day started like this. It was meant to be temporaryjust a couple of months while their flat was being renovated. But the second month was nearly over, and there was no end in sight.
«Mum, please,» Eleanor kept her voice steady. «You promised not to interfere.»
«Im not interfering,» Antonia set her phone aside. «Just worried about you. You work like a dog, and hes out gallivanting. What sort of man is that?»
«A good one,» Eleanor stood up. «And hes not gallivanting. It was an important client meetingI told you.»
Antonia scoffed but didnt argue. Eleanor knew that lookher mother didnt believe a word.
«Im off to work,» Eleanor grabbed her bag. «Back by eight.»
«What about lunch? I made stew.»
«Wont have time. Got a meeting at one, then a client after.»
«Youre always skipping meals,» Antonia shook her head. «No wonder youre not pregnant. Hows a baby supposed to grow on an empty stomach?»
Eleanor exhaled. The topic of children was a sore spot, but her mother brought it up relentlessly. Five years married, no grandchildren. A disgrace.
«See you tonight,» Eleanor kissed her mothers cheek. «Peter said hed be back earlywell have dinner together.»
«If he comes back,» Antonia muttered.
Eleanor stepped out, leaned against the damp hallway wall. The smell of mildew and catsonce comforting, now just suffocating.
In the car, she called Peter.
«Pete, did Mum ring you again?»
«Three times,» his voice was tired. «Didnt pick up.»
«Sorryshes just worried.»
«Worried?» Peter snorted. «She monitors my every move. Last night was an interrogationwhere was I, who was I drinking with, why so late. Im not a teenager, Ellie!»
«I know,» she started the engine. «Just a bit longer. The builder said the bathrooms done this week, then just the kitchen. Well be home soon.»
Peter was silent. When he spoke, his voice was hollow.
«What if I dont want to go back?»
«What do you mean?»
«Never mind. See you at work.»
He hung up. Eleanor stared at her phone, unease coiling in her chest. What did he mean? Not back to the flat? Or not back to her?
Work dragged. She fumbled numbers in the meeting, forgot a key contract clause with a client. Peter was on-site all dayshe didnt see him.
Home by nine, fixing her mistakes. The flat was quiet, just the telly murmuring from the kitchen.
«Im back!» she called, kicking off her shoes.
No answer. Oddusually her mum would fuss. She walked in and froze.
Peter and Antonia sat at the table, tension thick between them. Antonia glared at the telly; Peter spun a cold teacup in his hands.
«Whats going on?» Eleanor asked.
Peter looked up, eyes icy.
«Ask your mother. Shes been tearing into me for half an hour.»
«Antonia, what happened?»
«Nothing,» her mother sniffed. «Just told your husband some hard truths. That hes not a proper man. Cant even provideliving off his mother-in-law.»
«Mum!»
«What sort of home is a one-bed flat in some high-rise?» Antonia waved a hand. «In my day, men built families. This one? Some middle-management nobody»
«Im a project lead,» Peter ground out. «And we earn fine. Were only here because of the renovation.»
«Five years and what have you got?» Antonia barreled on. «No kids, no proper home. Wife slaving away while you»
«Mum, enough!» Eleanor raised her voice. «We agreedno pressure, no baby talk!»
Antonia folded her arms.
«I only want whats best. Youre thirty-twotimes ticking.»
Eleanor sat beside Peter, took his hand. He didnt pull awaybut didnt squeeze back.
«Pete, Im sorry. Shes just concerned.»
«Concerned?» He laughed bitterly. «She thinks Im worthless. Always has.»
Eleanor didnt argue. Her mother had opposed their marriage from the start. «No prospects,» shed said. «No money, no connections. Five years youngerstill a boy.»
«Go to bed,» Antonia stood abruptly. «Ive got a blood pressure check tomorrow.»
She shuffled off, door slamming behind her. Alone, Peter exhaled.
«Sorry,» Eleanor whispered.
«For what? That your mother despises me? Or that you never stand up to her?»
«I do!»
«No. You nod, then tell me to be patient. Five years of patience. Maybe thats enough.»
He stood.
«Where are you going?»
«To bed. Early start.»
Eleanor watched him go, fists clenched. She glanced at her mothers doorached to storm in, scream, release the fury. But she couldnt. Never could.
Morning came. Peter left before dawn. Antonia sat at the table with tea and pills.
«Your prince charming run off?»
«Mum, stop,» Eleanor said wearily. «Hes my husband. I love him. You need to respect that.»
«Respects earned,» Antonia snapped. «Your dad was a real man. Fixed everything himself. This one? Calls a plumber for a leak, begs the neighbor to hang a shelf. Useless.»
Eleanor chewed her toast silently. Pointless to argue. Her mother saw the world in black and whiteright and wrong. Unshakable.
At work, Peter was on-site again. They exchanged terse messagesnothing about last night. She stayed late, dreading home.
Lights were on when she returned. Raised voices from the kitchen. She hurried in.
Peter and Antonia stood squared off. Her mother red-faced, Peter eerily calmjaw tight.
«Whats happening?»
«Your husband,» Antonia jabbed a finger, «is moving out. Found a flatleaving tomorrow.»
Eleanor paled.
«Pete, is this true?»
«Yeah,» he nodded. «Nice place near work. Moving tomorrow.»
«What about me?»
«Your choice,» he met her eyes. «Come with me or stay. But I wont live like this anymore, Ellie. Listening to how worthless I am. Justifying every minute. This isnt life.»
«See!» Antonia crowed. «Abandoning you! I told youuseless!»
«Mum!» Eleanor snapped. «Enough!»
Antonia blinked, unaccustomed to her daughters steel.
«Im going with him,» Eleanor said firmly. «Tomorrow.»
«What?» Antonias hands flew up. «Madness! Youve got everything hereroof, food, care. And for what? Some rented shoebox with a man wholl toss you aside?»
«Better a shoebox with someone I love than a gilded cage.»
Antonia whitened.
«My homes a cage? Im your jailer? I gave my life for you! Raised you alone!»
«And youve held it over me ever since,» Eleanor said quietly. «You wont let me go, Mum. Wont let me live. Build my own family.»
«What family?» Antonia sneered. «Five yearsno kids, no home. Just work.»
«We waited to be stable,» Eleanor explained. «Now… now Im scared. Scared youd do the same with grandchildrendictate, criticize.»
«I only want whats best!»
«I know. But your best is smothering us. Me, definitely.»
Eleanor left her mother gaping. In their room, Peter sat on the bed, staring blankly.
«Im coming with you,» she sat beside him. «Sorry I didnt see how hard this was.»
He pulled her close.
«I love you. But I cant stay. Shes driving me mad.»
«Me too,» she admitted. «I just realized it.»
They lay in silence, listening to Antonias restless pacing.
Morning. Peter was gone. Antonia sat with untouched tea.
«Morning,» Eleanor said.
«He left early,» Antonia didnt look up. «Said hed collect you and your things tonight.»
«Yes, we agreed.»
Antonia finally met her eyeshollow, defeated.
«So youre leaving me?»
«Im not leaving. Ill visit, call.»
«Sure,» Antonia smiled bitterly. «Every weekend, then monthly, then just holidays. I know how this goes.»
«It wont.»
«Youre choosing him over me,» Antonia said stiffly. «Youll regret it.»
Eleanor sighed. No winning this.
«Work calls,» she stood. «Ill pack tonight.»
«Run along,» Antonia waved. «Everyone does. Your dad left, now you. Alone to die.»
Eleanor closed her eyes. The guilt trapoldest trick in the book. And it still worked.
«Mum, youre fifty-sixvibrant. Maybe try dating?»
«Whod want me?» Antonia scoffed. «Go on, dont be late.»
Work was a blur. Peter texted the new addressphotos of a bright two-bed. Eleanor felt no joy, only dread.
Home early to pack. Her suitcases waited in the hallalready filled.
«Mum?»
Antonia emerged, eyes red.
«Packed for you. Fetch anything else later.»
«Why?»
«What else could I do?» Antonia shrugged. «Youve chosen. No point dragging it out.»
Eleanor stepped closer.
«Im not gone forever. Well visit»
«Go back to your mother,» Peters voice cut in. He stood in the doorway, glaring.
«Pete, what?»
«Go back,» he said coldly. «If your mothers packed for you, its decided.»
«Nothings decided! She was just helping»
«Helping?» Peter laughed harshly. «Shes throwing you out. Bags by the doorthats eviction.»
Antonia burst into tears. Eleanor rushed to her.
«Mum, please! Im not abandoning you!»
«Go with him,» Antonia sobbed. «Leave me. I understand.»
Eleanor held her. Peter watched, stone-faced.
«Choose,» he said quietly. «Come with me or stay. But if you stay, its forever. Im done with these games.»
«What games?»
«She manipulates you,» Peter nodded at Antonia. «Always has. And you let her. While youre under her roof, you always will.»
Antonia lifted her tear-streaked face.
«See, darling? See what hes like? Wants to tear us apart!»
Eleanor looked between themher two anchors, pulling her opposite ways.
«I need time,» she whispered.
«There is none,» Peter said. «Ive paid the rent. We go now, or I go alone. For good.»
Antonia clutched her.
«Dont let him bully you! Youre my daughtermine!»
Peters voice was steel.
«Shes my wife. And Ill fight for my family.»
Eleanor pulled away, inhaled deeply. One clear thought pierced the fog: this wont end. Stay, and her mother rules her life. Leave, and Peter will never accept Antonia.
«Im staying,» she said softly.
Peter flinched.
«What?»
«Im staying, Pete. Shes alone. We can waitjust till the renovations done.»
Antonias eyes gleamed triumph.
«You see? A daughter chooses her mother.»
Peter shoved the suitcases onto the landing.
«Go back to your mother. Live with her, if she matters more. But dont wait for me. Im done.»
He left. Eleanor jerked forward, but Antonia gripped her wrist.
«Let him go. Hell crawl back. Or good riddance. Weve managed before.»
Eleanor stared at the closed door, her world crumbling. Choice made. Right or wrongtime would tell.
Two weeks later, divorce papers arrived. Eleanor signed without reading. Antonia said nothing, lips pursed.
The renovation finished a month later. The flat stood emptytoo painful to enter. She listed it for rent.
Found a new jobnowhere near Peters office. Started going out morecinema, theatre. Sometimes with Antonia, whod softened oddly, as if fearing shed push too far.
Some nights, Eleanor cried, wonderingwhat if shed chosen differently? Gone with him? Might they have been happy?
But life doesnt deal in «might-have-beens.» Path chosen. Road walked. Day by day, she learned to live without him. Without blaming her mother, Peter, or herself.
The rest? Only time would tell.
