Dear Diary,
Its been seven long years in this little London flat. Seven years waking up next to Andrew, seven years absorbing my motherinlaws constant jabs. You came from the sticks and tucked yourself into a readymade nest, she loves to remind me, as if Im forever a stranger in her house. Mrs. Whitaker never misses a chance to point out that Im an outsider.
Ethel, the dishes are still piled up, she says, breezing into the kitchen as she always doesuninvited, key in hand, the very same key Andrew gave her before we were married. Ive asked him countless times to take it back, but he just waves me off: Shes my mum, love.
Ill wash them after tea, I reply without looking up from my plate. Fiveyearold Charlie sits beside me, spooning his porridge, eyes flicking to his grandmother. He senses the tension; children always do.
After tea! Mrs. Whitaker snorts. Youre always after tea. Then Andrew comes home exhausted and the flat is a mess. At least the lad is turning out normalnot like you.
I clench my fists under the table. Not like me? Im the one who sits up with him when hes ill, reads him stories, builds Lego towers, escorted him to kindergarten, and attended every parentteacher meeting. Yet I stay silent, as I always have.
Mrs. Whitaker surveys the kitchen with a hostesss eye. Ironically, she too was once a newcomershe moved from a village near Bicester to London in the eighties and married Andrews father. She prefers not to recall that. Now shes a proper Londoner, and Im the provincial newcomer.
This flat came into the family from my motherinlaw, she repeats her favourite line. Youre just a guest. A temporary guest.
Temporary guestshes called me that for seven years. A temporary guest who gave her a grandson who works from dawn till dusk, who poured her savings into renovating this flat.
Darling, thats enough, I say, weary.
Dont darling me! Its Mrs. Whitaker! And remember your place. Im the elder here, which means Im in charge.
Charlie frowns and pushes his plate away.
Gran, why are you cross with Mum?
Finish your porridge, love. And let your mother learn how to keep a proper home.
That evening, when Andrew finally gets home, I try again.
Andy, we cant go on like this. Your mother turns up whenever she likes, scolds me, says nasty things in front of Charlie. Can you take her key away?
Andrew slips off his shoes without meeting my eyes.
Ethel, love, shes my mum. Shes old, alone. The flat did come from my grandmother
Andy! I grab his arm. Weve been married seven years! We have a child! This is our home!
Its ours, right? But formally the title is in my name. Mum got used to dropping in when I lived on my own
Then transfer half to me. Officially.
Andrew winces as if a tooth aches.
Why all the paperwork? We love each other, dont we? I hadnt realised love and legalities are not the same.
A week later my parents arrive, staying ten days to look after Charlie while our holiday winds down. My dad works in a factory, my mum in a hospitalsimple folk who have helped us more than I can count. When we redid the bathroom, it cost £200,000. New furniture ran another £100,000. When Charlie fell ill, it was their money that saved us again.
Im so glad youre here, I hug my mum. Charlie missed his grandparents.
We hope we wont be in the way, my dad worries. Its already cramped
Dont be silly, Dad! This is our home, our family. Make yourselves comfortable.
Andrew greets my parents warmly, as always, though I see his nerves. He phones his mother to warn her.
Mum, Ethels parents are staying with us for a week Yes, everythings fine, what are youRight.
The next day my parents settle in with Charliereading, playing, making tea. Grandma Joan tells him about birds, Grandpa George shows him card tricks.
I work as a manager at a travel agency. At half past one my mum calls, voice trembling.
Ethel, your motherinlaw turned up Shes shouting that we moved in without permission
My heart drops.
Mum, whats happening?
She says we must pack and go. This is her flat and she didnt invite anyone
I hear Mrs. Whitaker in the background:
All these strangers! Think they can settle wherever they like! This is private property!
Mum, stay calm. Im on my way. Let me speak to Mrs. Whitaker.
She refuses to talk. Ethel, shes furious Charlies scared
Wheres Charlie?
In his room. Grandpas with him.
I drop everything and race home. On the way I call Andrew.
Your mother is evicting my parents!
What?! Ethel, Im coming too.
And finally take her keys! Im done!
I make it in half the usual hour. My parents suitcase sits by the entranceher doing this on the street! I rush upstairs and hear shouting:
No settling here! You have your own daughterlet her support you!
I fling the flats door open. My parents stand in the hallway, bewildered, Mum sobbing, Charlie wailing from his room.
Mrs. Whitaker, what on earth is happening? I demand.
She turns, face flushed. Ask your parents! They decided to set up here, didnt they! This isnt a hotel, love, its a private home!
This is our home! I shout. Our flat with Andrew! And my parents are my guests!
Yours? Mine? she laughs hysterically. Youre nobody! Do you have the title deeds? No! But my son does! So Im in charge!
My mum steps forward.
Ethel, perhaps we should go to a hotel
Youre not going anywhere! I pull her into a hug. Mrs. Whitaker, apologise to my parents. Now.
As if! They should apologise for barging in!
Andrew bursts in, his face dark. He knows this is serious.
Mum, what are you doing?
Andy, Im protecting our home! They want to move in!
Love, theyre guestsfor a week.
A week! And then what? Theyll stay forever! I know the type!
I go to the nursery. Charlie sniffles on the bed, Grandpa George soothing him.
Mum, why did Grandma Val I mean, why did Mrs. Whitaker shout at Grandma Joan? Charlie asks.
Theres a lump in my throat.
Charlie, sometimes adults cant see eye to eye. Itll be alright.
Will Grandma Joan and Grandpa George go away?
No, love. Theyll stay, just as we planned.
Back in the living room, Andrew tries to calm his mother.
Mum, why act like this? Its not right.
Not right? No one asked meso its right? I just discovered strangers living here!
Theyre not strangers! Theyre Ethels parents!
They mean nothing to me!
I pull Andrew aside.
Andy, we need to talkalone.
We shut the kitchen door.
Andy, I cant go on. Either you sort this with your mother once and for all, or Im leaving.
Ethel, dont be rash
Im not being rash! She threw my parents out onto the street! She made a scene in front of our son! How much more am I supposed to take?
Shes just worried
Andy. I whisper, but he understands. If you dont take her keys now and transfer half the flat into my name, Ill file for divorce.
His face turns ashen.
Ethel
No Ethel. Seven years of humiliation! My parents poured their last savings into this renovation, and she treats them like dogs!
But the legalities
Its not paperwork. Its security. I want this home to be mine too, not just a temporary guest.
He stares out the window, silent.
How will I explain this to my mother?
Tomorrow Ill file. Ill take Charlie with me.
He finally sees Im serious. Seven years is a long time, but I cant live as an outsider any longer.
Alright, he says at last. Tomorrow well sort it.
We return to the lounge. Mrs. Whitaker sits on the sofa, still fuming.
Mum, Andrew says, hand me the keys.
What?
The flat keys. Give them to me.
Andy, what are you
Mum, this isnt right. Ethels right. This is our home.
Her face goes white.
So youre throwing me out? For her?
Im not throwing you out. But give me the keys and apologise to Ethels parents.
Never!
Then dont come back.
She stands, shakes, and tosses the keys onto the table.
Fine! Well see how you manage without me! And your wife will be the first to leave you the moment something goes wrong!
She slams the door; the windows shudder.
Silence falls. My parents stare in the hallway, unsure what to do.
Please make yourselves at home, I say. This is your home too.
My mum embraces me.
Ethel, maybe I should have spoken up earlier
I should have, Mum. Long ago.
The next day Andrew and I visit a solicitor. We register half the title in my name. No longer a temporary guestthis is truly my home.
Mrs. Whitaker doesnt call for three days. Then she phones Andrew, crying.
Son, I didnt mean it I was just frightened
Mum, come over. But behave yourself.
She arrives with a cake and flowers, asks my parents for forgivenessinsincere, but she asks.
I got nervous, she admits. Older folk get a bit paranoid.
My parents, ever kind, forgive her.
Now new rules apply. Mrs. Whitaker calls before visiting, no longer critiques my housekeeping. She calls me Ethel, not temporary guest.
A month later my parents return for Charlies birthday before school starts. No one kicks them out. Mrs. Whitaker even helps set the table.
You did the right thing, my mum tells me later in the kitchen. You shouldve done it ages ago.
Yes, Mum. Ages ago.
And Mrs. Whitaker no longer sees me as a temporary guest, because my name now sits on the deed. Shes learned that trying to drive my parents away almost cost her son and grandson. Her plan backfired, and now she knows: in this house Im not a guest. Im the lady of the home.
