You’re poor and you’ll always be stuck in a rented flat, my motherinlaw used to say. And now shes taken a room in my manor.
Can we change the curtains? the tone behind Althea Whitakers voice was as heavy as the velvet drapes on the windows the very thing she never liked. This colour feels oppressive. It makes the room gloomy.
Katherine Sinclair turned slowly. Shed picked that fabric herself a deep burgundy velvet that matched the light walls and the antique sideboard perfectly. A little design triumph of her own.
You dont like it? Althea asked.
Oh, love, a gift is a gift, as they say Im just giving my opinion. I have the right to speak my mind in my sons house, dont I?
Katherine stared at her motherinlaw, hands clasped thinly across her chest, a faint smile playing on her lips as she surveyed the room the very room she and David had given her in their new house, the castle David liked to joke about when he pointed at the towers hed dreamed of as a child.
Of course you do, Althea Whitaker, David said.
Good, because I was beginning to think even breathing here would need a report.
Twenty years. Two decades passed and nothing changed except the décor. What was once a cramped onebed flat with floral wallpaper became a spacious house, every square foot the result of David and Katherines hard work.
Just a bit of coziness, Katherine whispered, running a finger over the polished sideboard. Dust. Needs a wipe. Youre not used to it, are you? You and David have been bouncing around other peoples rooms for ages.
Katherine felt something tighten inside her not pain, but a familiar, phantom ache like a limb thatd long since been amputated. She remembered.
She recalled the day they first moved into that tiny flat on the outskirts, a leaky tap and squeaky floorboards, how thrilled they were, trembling with joy.
Then she arrived. She surveyed their modest home, pursed her lips and delivered a verdict, looking not at her son but straight at Katherine.
Youre poor and youll always drag him down. Remember my words: youll never have anything of your own.
Katherine stayed silent. What could she say? A twentyyearold, headoverheels in love, convinced love would conquer all.
And it did, at a price. Twenty years of relentless effort, sleepless nights, two engagement rings locked in the bank, and a risky tech startup that finally paid off so they could afford everything. Meanwhile Althea Whitaker lost everything first her husband, then her city flat, having thrown her money into a scam recommended by a very highstatus lady.
A thirst for quick cash and status left her with nothing.
David says youve given me the finest guest room, Althea said, moving to the window. With a garden view, so I can watch you fuss with the roses and not forget your place.
Our place is here now, Katherine replied firmly. And yours too.
My place, dear, was my flat, Althea snapped. This is just a temporary shelter a generous gesture so everyone sees what a good wife I have for my son. Not a grudge.
She turned, and Katherine saw the same cold, poisonous disdain shed felt twenty years ago.
The main thing is your castle doesnt turn into a house of cards, Katherine. Falling from that height hurts.
That evening, over dinner, Althea revisited the curtains, this time addressing David alone.
David, now youre a proper businessman with partners coming round. The house needs to look the part. Those dark rooms feel oppressive.
Katherine set a salad on the table, her hands steady. Mum, we like it, David said softly. Katherine chose everything herself; she has a great eye.
Practical taste, thats what she has, Althea replied with a patronising smile. Shes used to things being cheap and lasting. Good for lean times.
But now we can afford a bit of lightness. I know a brilliant decorator who could give us a few tips.
Katherine felt backed into a corner. Refuse and youre stubborn; agree and you admit your taste is rubbish.
Ill think about it, she said evenly.
Thinking wont do, love. You have to act before the house gets soaked in that middleclass blandness.
The next day Katherine walked into the kitchen and froze. All the spice jars shed collected from around the world, neatly arranged, were shoved into a corner. In their place sat Altheas old tea set the only thing shed taken from her past life.
I just tidied up a bit, Althea said from behind her. Your place looks chaotic. A man needs order to feel at ease.
Katherine silently gathered her spices and put them back.
You didnt have to, I could have done it myself.
Of course you could, Althea sighed. Youre always doing everything on your own. Strong women make men weak. Youve shouldered everything, so David got used to that. He needed to feel the boss from day one.
It hit Katherine like a punch to the gut. All those years coding late nights, supporting David after failures, hunting investors for their first venture it all boiled down to one sentence.
Shed been making him weak.
That night she tried to talk to David. He listened, hugged her.
Katherine, shes an old lady whos lost everything. She just wants to feel useful. Does she really need those spice jars?
Its not about the jars, David! Its that she belittles everything I do, everything I am!
She doesnt know you yet, he said gently. Give her time. Shell see how wonderful you are to me.
Katherine stepped back. He didnt get it. He loved her, stood by her, but he couldnt see the poison seeping from his mothers words. He only saw the drama, not the source.
She spent the night staring out of the bedroom window at the garden shed planted herself, every rose, every path shed designed. This house was her fortress, proof that Althea was wrong.
Now the enemy was inside, and she wasnt going anywhere. Compromise was useless; peace was impossible.
Saturday marked the point of no return. As Katherine returned from town, she heard a strange female voice from the terrace, the same tone as her motherinlaws.
On the terrace, in her favourite armchair, sat a wellkept lady, Althea gesturing wildly at the garden.
and here, Rosie, I see a lovely Alpine hill. Those old roses can be removed. Lets make a lawn, more space, more air!
Katherine lingered in the ivycovered arch, unseen, hearing every word.
Brilliant idea, Althea, replied Rosie, the decorator. The garden needs a bit of city chic. Well redo it all. David will love it.
Inside Katherine, something snapped not with a sound, but quietly, definitively. This was her garden, her creation. Shed chosen every plant, nursed them, celebrated the first bud. It wasnt just a leisure spot; it was her art.
And they, without asking, were deciding its fate.
Enough.
She didnt confront them. She simply turned, got into her car, and drove off.
There was no anger left, just a clear, cold calculation the same one thatd saved their business before. She called her property agent, Simon, good morning. Need a flat to let, urgently. Status: VIP client. Ill email the terms.
Three hours later she was back. David was in the kitchen, a tense conversation hanging in the air. Katherine placed the keys and a file on the table.
Good evening, Althea Whitaker, Rosie. Thanks for finding the time to discuss my gardens design.
Rosie flushed, while Althea straightened her back.
We were just sharing ideas, love. For the greater good.
Indeed, Katherine nodded, turning to David. Ive solved the problem.
He looked puzzled. Which problem?
My motherinlaws discomfort. Shes right she needs her own place where she can be the lady of the house, without having to live with someone elses taste.
Katherine spread the file. Ive arranged a flat for Althea in a new development with a concierge, ten minutes from here. Spacious, bright, topnotch finish. We can view it tomorrow at ten. Everythings already agreed.
Silence fell. David stared between his wife and his mother, speechless. Altheas face turned ashen.
So, youre kicking me out? she asked, voice shaking.
No, love, Katherine replied with a smile that held no warmth. Im giving you what youve always wanted freedom. Freedom from my curtains, my spices, my roses. You can buy any furniture, hire any designer, and create the comfort you dream of. Of course, on our dime.
It was a flawless move. She wasnt evicting; she was gifting. Refusing that gift would mean admitting it wasnt about comfort but control over her domain.
David tried to make light of it, chuckling, Katherine, youre a schemer. Why complicate things? He glanced at his mother, Mum, she didnt mean it like that.
Altheas face hardened. Youll let her treat me like this? Throw me out of my own home?
This is my home too, Katherine said firmly. Im not evicting. Im offering better terms.
The rest of the evening David spent smoothing things over. When Rosie left in a hurry, he slipped into the bedroom where Katherine was packing Altheas belongings.
It was harsh, he said. We could have just talked.
I told her dozens of times, she replied, meeting his gaze. You heard only curtains and jars. To me it was my life being trampled daily.
She walked to the window, the garden darkening outside.
Twenty years, David. Twenty years of being told Im nothing. I kept quiet, worked, built this house our house to prove Im worth something. And she comes to snatch it away. I wont let that happen. This house is our fortress, not a battlefield where I have to fight for every breath.
I wont fight your mother, David said. Ill just move her out of the line of fire. Its your call now.
He fell silent, and in that silence Katherine saw he finally understood her patience and love had limits, and that line had been crossed.
The move happened in three days. Althea never spoke to Katherine, only shot icy looks. Everything was carried out quietly. When it was all done, Althea stood in her new, bright but empty flat.
I hope youll enjoy it, Katherine said as she left.
No reply.
Two months later the house felt lighter. Katherine sang while making breakfast. She and David laughed more, recalling small moments. The castle was no longer a fortress to defend; it was simply a home their home.
Every Sunday they visited Althea. Shed set up her flat just so, bright curtains everywhere, a hotellike neatness, but no warmth. She chatted with David, barely noticing Katherine.
One day Katherine overheard Althea complaining to David about a broken tap.
called the council, they said wait three days. Can you imagine? Your father would have sorted it in a heartbeat.
Thats when it clicked. It wasnt about money or poverty. It was about losing power. Althea was desperate to cling to any control she could, even over her daughterinlaws tiny world.
But Katherine was no longer the girl from that rented onebed flat.
She took Davids hand, faced Althea, and said, Well call a plumber, Althea. Dont worry.
There was no triumph, no revenge, just calm. The rent for that room was paid with Katherines peace of mind, and that was the best deal shed ever made.
A year passed.
Golden autumn bathed the garden in warm light. Katherine sat on the terrace, wrapped in a blanket, watching her roses fade gracefully a beauty in decline. Shed almost forgotten the lingering anxiety that had haunted her for months.
David came in with two cups of tea and sat beside her.
Cold? he asked.
No, Im fine.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. Their relationship had shifted; the old resentment towards his mother vanished. They were just a team now.
Mum called, he said gently.
Katherine stayed composed. The call no longer rattled her; it was just routine.
She asked if we could move the wardrobe. Says theres dust everywhere.
They exchanged a look. That was the new game tiny requests to keep her mothers weakness in play.
Well hire movers, Katherine replied calmly. Well pay for it. We have a trusted company.
David nodded, dialed the number. No arguments, no pleas to do it yourself. Hed learned the rules.
The next day Katherine flipped through old photo albums and found a picture of them, fresh out of university, hugging in front of the shabby wall of their first flat, beaming with joy.
She stared at their faces, remembering how terrified shed been of Altheas verdict of eternal poverty and rented corners.
Now she realised Altheas only truth was that poverty truly is a dreadful thing but not her own. Her poverty had been temporary, a launchpad that drove her forward. Altheas poverty was in her soul: unable to rejoice in others success, forever hunting blame, always pulling others down to feel powerful.
Katherine closed the album. She no longer felt like a victor of some ancient war. There was no war, just the tragedy of a woman who trapped herself in a cage of envy and anger.
And her manor with its towers? It wasnt a trophy or a fortress. It was simply a home, smelling of the apples from her garden.
A place where she and David could sit in silence, hand in hand. A place where she finally found not wealth, but peace.
