Diary 12October
Its been seven years now that Eleanor and I have called the flat on Camden Street our home. Seven years of sharing a bed with her, seven years of hearing my motherinlaw, Margaret Hughes, remind me that Im a stranger in her house.
Eleanor, youve left the dishes again, she says, stepping into the kitchen unannounced, key in hand the one Thomas gave her before we were married. Ive asked him to take it back countless times, but he just shrugs, Shes my mum, love.
Ill wash them after lunch, I reply without looking up from my toast. Our fiveyearold, Harry, sits beside me, spooning his porridge, his eyes flicking to his grandmother. Children sense the tension.
After lunch! Margaret snorts. Youre always will do. Then Tom comes home exhausted and the place is a mess. At least the child is normal unlike you.
My fists clench under the table. I am the one who gets up at night when Harry is ill, the one who reads him stories, who got him into reception and attends every parentteacher meeting. Yet I stay silent, as always.
Margaret sweeps the kitchen with a hostesss gaze, though once she herself was a newcomer she moved from a village near Cambridge to London in the eighties and married Thomass father. She never mentions that now, preferring the title of Londoner while I remain the provincial newcomer.
This flat came from my motherinlaw, she launches into her favourite refrain. And you are just a guest. A temporary guest.
Temporary guest thats how shes called me for seven years. A temporary guest who gave her a grandson, who works from dawn till dusk, who poured all his savings into refurbishing this flat.
Mom, thats enough, I say wearily.
Dont mom me! Its Margaret! And remember your place. Im the elder here, which means Im in charge.
Harry scowls and pushes his plate away.
Grandma, why are you angry at Mum?
Finish your porridge, love, and let your mother learn how to keep a house in order.
That evening, after Thomas returns from work, I try once more.
Tom, we cant go on like this. Your mother drops by whenever she likes, scolds me, says nasty things in front of the child. Take her keys away.
He slips off his shoes without meeting my eyes.
Love, shes my mum. Shes old, alone. The flat did come from my grandmother
Thomas! I grab his wrist. Weve been married seven years! We have a child! This is our home!
Our home, yes, but formally the lease is in my name. She got used to popping in when I lived alone
Then transfer half to me. Officially.
He winces as if a tooth is aching.
Why the paperwork? Love and legal documents are not the same. I didnt realise that then.
A week later my parents arrive. Theyll stay ten days to look after Harry while our holiday winds down. My father, a factory foreman, and my mother, a nurse, have helped us countless times the bathroom remodel (£200,000), the new furniture (£100,000), the medical bills when Harry fell ill.
Im so glad youre here, I hug my mother. Harry missed his grandparents.
We hope we wont be in the way, my dad worries. Its cramped as it is
Dont be silly, Dad! This is our home, our family. Make yourselves comfortable.
Thomas greets my parents warmly, as always, but I see the tension in his eyes. He phones his mum to warn her of their arrival.
Mom, Thomass parents are staying with us for a week Yes, everythings fine, what are you Right.
The next day Thomas and I go to work. My parents stay with Harry reading, playing, making lunch. Grandma Martha tells him about birds, Grandpa George shows him magic tricks.
At 1:30p.m. my mother calls, voice shaking.
Thomas, your motherinlaw turned up. Shes shouting that we moved in without permission.
My heart drops.
Whats happening? I ask.
She says we should pack and leave. Its her flat and she didnt invite anyone.
I hear Margaret in the background:
All these outsiders! Think they can settle wherever they like! This is private property!
Stay calm, Mum. Im coming now. Let me talk to Margaret.
She wont speak. Harrys scared
Wheres Harry?
In his room. Granddads with him.
I drop everything and race home, calling Thomas on the way.
Your mother is throwing my parents out!
What? Lena I mean, love, Im on my way too.
And take her keys, finally! Im done!
I arrive in half an hour instead of an hour. My parents suitcase sits by the entrance Margaret had thrown their belongings onto the street.
Up the stairs I hear shouting:
No settling in here! Youve got your own daughter let her support you!
I fling open the door with my key. My parents stand in the hallway, bewildered, my mother sobbing, Harry crying from his room.
Margaret, whats happening?
She turns, face flushed with anger. Your parents decided to set themselves up here, didnt they! This isnt a hotel, its a private home!
This is our home! I yell. Our home with Thomas! And my parents are my guests!
Yours? Youre nobody here! Do you have papers for the flat? No! But my son does! So Im in charge!
My mother steps forward.
Thomas, we should go to a hotel
Youre not going anywhere! I hug her. Margaret, apologise to my parents. Now.
As if! They should apologise for barging in!
Thomas arrives, face dark. He knows this is serious.
Mom, what are you doing?
Tom, Im protecting our home! They want to settle here!
Theyre guests for a week.
A week! And then what? Theyll stay for good! I know the type!
I go to the nursery. Harry sniffs, Grandpa George strokes his head.
Mom, why did Grandma Margaret yell at Grandma Martha? my son asks.
Theres a lump in my throat.
Harry, sometimes adults cant agree. Itll be all right.
Will Grandma Martha and Grandpa George leave?
No, love. Theyll stay, just as we planned.
Back in the living room, Thomas tries to calm his mother.
Mom, why act like this? Its not right.
Not right? No one asked me is that right? I discover strangers living here!
Theyre not strangers! Theyre Thomass parents!
Theyre nothing to me!
I pull Thomas aside.
Thomas, I need to talk alone.
We go to the kitchen and shut the door.
This is it, Tom. I cant go on. Either you deal with your mother once and for all, or Im leaving.
Lena I mean, love, dont be rash
Im not being rash! She threw my parents out onto the street! She made a scene in front of our child! How much more can I take?
Shes just worried
Thomas. I whisper, but he knows Im serious. Ill file for divorce if you dont take her keys now and transfer half the flat to me.
His face turns ashen.
Love
No love. Seven years of humiliation! My parents poured their last savings into our renovation, and she treats them like dogs!
The formalities
Not formalities. Guarantees. I want to own this home too. Im not a temporary guest.
Thomas stares out the window, silent.
How am I supposed to explain this to my mum?
Tomorrow Ill file for divorce. And Im taking Harry.
He finally sighs. Seven years is a long time, but I cant stay in a house where Im treated as an outsider.
Fine, he says after a long pause. Tomorrow well sort it out.
We return to the lounge. Margaret sits on the sofa, still fuming.
Mom, Thomas says, hand me the keys.
What?
The flat keys. Give them to me.
Tom, what are you
Mom, this isnt right. Lenas right. This is our home.
Her face goes white.
So youre throwing me out? For her?
Im not throwing you out. Just give me the keys and apologise to my parents guests.
Never!
Then dont come back.
She stands, trembles, pulls the keys from her purse and slams them on the table.
Fine! Well see how you manage without your mother! And that wife of yours will be the first to leave when anything happens!
She hammers the door; the windows rattle.
Silence settles.
My parents stand in the hallway, unsure.
Please make yourselves at home, I say. This is your home too.
My mother embraces me.
Love, maybe I should have
I should have, Mum. A long time ago.
The next day Thomas and I go to the solicitor. Half the lease is put in my name. Im no longer a temporary guest. This is my home.
Margaret doesnt call for three days. When she finally phones, tears break through.
Son, I didnt mean it I was just worried
Come over, but behave.
She arrives with a cake and flowers, asks my parents for forgiveness. It sounds insincere, but they accept.
I got nervous, she admits. Older people get suspicious.
Now she calls before visiting, no longer criticises my housekeeping, and addresses me as Eleanor, not as a guest.
When my parents return a month later for Harrys birthday before school starts, no one throws them out. Margaret even helps set the table.
You did the right thing, my mother says later, alone in the kitchen. You shouldve done it long ago.
Yes, Mum. Long ago.
Because my name is now on the title, Margaret finally realises that trying to drive my parents out almost cost her son and grandson. Her plan backfired.
Lesson: love may bind a family, but without legal footing you remain a guest in your own house. You must claim your rightful place before hope turns to desperation.
