My husband brought his mother to live in my tiny flat
«Mother will stay with us for a while,» said Henry, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in the narrow hallway. «The pipes burst in her house, and repairs will take time. We cant leave her out in the cold, can we?»
Elizabeth froze with a towel in her hands, having just stepped from the bath. Her damp hair left dark spots on the shoulders of her old dressing gown. Behind Henry stood Margaret, his mother, with two enormous suitcases and a box tied up with string.
«Hello, Lizzie dear,» her mother-in-law nodded cheerfully, as though oblivious to her daughter-in-laws stunned expression. «Dont fret, I shant be long. Once the plumbers finish their work, Ill be off. A month, two at most.»
A month? Two? In a thirty-square-metre flat where the kitchen was scarcely bigger than a cupboard, and the bathroom barely fit one person? Elizabeth felt something tighten inside her with dread.
«Margaret, how lovely to see you,» she forced a smile, masking her panic. «But are you certain youll be comfortable here? Perhaps one of your friends might have room?»
«Oh, dont be silly, love,» Margaret waved her off, stepping inside. «What friends at my age? Those still alive can hardly manage themselves. And I wouldnt dream of imposing.»
*But imposing on us is perfectly fine*, Elizabeth thought, though she held her tongue.
«Mother, lets put your things here,» Henry pointed to a corner near the bookcase. «Youll sleep on the sofa. Lizzie and I can manage on the fold-out.»
«Dont be ridiculous!» Margaret protested. «Ill take the fold-out. You young folk need proper rest.»
«Mother, your back is bad,» Henry said firmly. «The sofa is better for you.»
Elizabeth watched in silence, feeling like a stranger in her own home. The flat, inherited from her grandmother before the marriage, was hers in name, yet Henry had made the decision without so much as consulting her.
«Ill put the kettle on,» she said at last, retreating to the tiny kitchen where the fridge, stove, and table for two barely fit. «Margaret, you must be hungry after your journey?»
«Dont trouble yourself, I had a bite on the train,» Margaret replied, already unpacking onto the armchair. «Tell me, how do you manage in this cramped space? Henry says alls well, but I can see its tight. High time you bought somewhere bigger.»
Elizabeth pursed her lips. Money was a sore subject. Henrys wages as a mechanic and her own as a primary teacher barely covered billsmortgages were out of the question.
«Mother, weve talked about this,» Henry sighed. «Now isnt the time.»
«When *will* it be?» Margaret shook her head. «Youre thirty-two, Lizzies twenty-eight. Time for children, but where would you raise them here?»
Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn. Childrenanother tender topic. Four years married, and Margaret never missed a chance to remind them of her longing for grandchildren.
«Not now, Mother,» Henry shot Elizabeth an apologetic glance. «Lizzies tired, and youve had a long journey. Lets all rest.»
Margaret huffed but turned back to her unpacking.
Elizabeth escaped to the kitchen, drawing a deep breath. She loved Henry, truly. But his eagerness to please his mother, his inability to say *no*, grated on her. Bringing Margaret into their shoebox flat without warning, without discussion…
The kettle whistled, and she mechanically made tea. Through the small kitchen window, rows of grey council flats loomed under a heavy October skyfitting, she thought, for her mood.
«Lizzie, can I help?» Margarets voice made her jump.
«No, thank you,» Elizabeth forced another smile. «Just lost in thought.»
«About what, dear?» Margaret perched on a creaking chair.
«Work,» Elizabeth lied. «Ive a difficult class this year. Twenty-eight children, half with no discipline at all.»
«Oh, I do sympathise,» Margaret tutted. «In my day, children respected their elders. Now? No order at all.»
Elizabeth said nothing, pouring tea. Margaret always idealised the past, dismissing the present as spoiled. Arguing was pointlessshe never listened.
«Mother, are you settled?» Henry peered in. «Ah, teaperfect. Early shift tomorrow, so Ill turn in soon.»
«Of course, dear,» Margaret patted his arm. «Rest. Lizzie and I will have a nice chat.»
*Just what I need*, Elizabeth thought, but Henry was already gone, leaving her alone with Margaret.
«How are things between you and Henry?» Margaret began bluntly, sipping her tea. «He says littlejust fine and alright. But I sense somethings amiss.»
«Everything *is* fine,» Elizabeth kept her tone neutral. «Just the usual married life.»
«Married life?» Margaret pressed. «Wheres the joy? He looks worn thin. Are you feeding him properly?»
«I try,» Elizabeth took a deliberate sip. «But we both work late. Proper meals arent always possible.»
«Youth today,» Margaret sighed. «In my day, wives managed work *and* home. Now its all takeaways. No wonder everyones ill.»
Elizabeth bit her tongue. Margaret was elderly, in a difficult spot. Patience, for Henrys sake.
«Ill cook more,» she said. «Especially now youre here. Any childhood favourites of Henrys you could teach me?»
Margaret brightened, launching into recipes for steak-and-kidney pie, proper roast beef, and a dozen dishes Henry had never mentioned in four years of marriage.
At last, pleading exhaustion, Elizabeth excused herself. In the bathroom, she sat on the tubs edge and exhaled. How would they survive this? Where could she go for solitude?
When she emerged, Henry was asleep on the fold-out, Margaret on the sofa flipping through a magazine. Elizabeth crept in beside her husband. *Close quarters make for short tempers*, as the saying wentbut right now, she just felt resentful.
Morning brought chaos. The bathroom, barely fitting one, now served three. Elizabeth, who cherished slow morningsquiet coffee, careful makeupfound herself racing against Margaret, who rose at dawn despite her age.
«Lizzie, I washed your blouse,» Margaret announced at breakfast. «The white one on the chair. It was stained.»
«What?» Elizabeth nearly choked on her coffee. «Id soaked it in a special solution! Red wineit needs particular treatment!»
«Nonsense,» Margaret waved her off. «Washing powders served me sixty years.»
Elizabeth hurried to the bathroom. Her favourite blouse, bought on sale at Harrods, now bore yellow patches where wine had been.
«Everything alright?» Henry asked, peering in. «Mother said you were upset. Ill buy you a new one.»
«Its not about the blouse,» Elizabeth said quietly. «Its about her touching my things without asking. Henry, why didnt you *warn* me?»
«Sorry,» he looked down. «I knew youd object, so… But its temporary, I swear.»
«Promise youll speak to her. About boundaries.»
He kissed her cheek. «I will.»
But nothing changed. Margaret rearranged cupboards, critiqued Elizabeths cooking, even commented on how she folded laundry. Elizabeth lingered at work, stopped by friendsanything to delay returning home.
«Youre avoiding home,» Henry noted after two weeks. «Mother said you came in at nine last night.»
«Parent-teacher meeting,» she said tiredly. «Since when does she monitor me?»
«She worries,» he soothed. «Thinks youre avoiding her.»
«Arent I?» Elizabeth met his eyes. «Henry, I cant live like this. Every move I make is corrected. I feel like a guest in my own home.»
«Youre overreacting,» he frowned. «Mother means well.»
«Does she?» Elizabeth stepped back. «I need space, Henry. To be *me*, not who she expects.»
«Where else can she go?» His voice rose. «Her house is unlivable! Would you toss her out?»
«Of course not,» she shook her head. «But she has a sister in Bristol. Or we could rent her a room.»
«With what money?» He threw up his hands. «Were barely scraping by.»
Elizabeth said nothing. Money was another sore point. Henry, kind but unambitious, couldve been head mechanic by nowyet he stayed comfortable where he was.
«Fine,» she sighed. «Ill endure. But *talk* to her.»
He nodded, relieved. «Ill fix this.»
He didnt. Meals were now at Margarets chosen hours, laundry on her scheduleeven the telly was hers first.
The breaking point came on Sunday when Elizabeth found Margaret rifling through her handbag.
«What are you doing?» she snapped, snatching it back.
«Oh, Lizzie, youre awake,» Margaret said airily. «Just wanted to see your hand cream. My rash is acting up.»
«Ask next time,» Elizabeth kept her voice even. «These are my things.»
«Dont be silly,» Margaret scoffed. «Family shares everything.»
«Not in my family,» Elizabeths temper flared. «I value my privacy.»
«Selfish,» Margaret pursed her lips. «Henry, hear how she speaks to me?»
Henry, watching from the sofa, coughed. «Mother, shes right. You should ask.»
«Right?» Margaret gasped. «Im *family*!»
«Its not about the cream,» Elizabeth said wearily. «Its about respect.»
«Respect?» Margarets voice rose. «In my day, families stuck together! No wonder marriages fail nowall this *mine* and *yours*!»
Elizabeth felt something snap. Three weeks of tension boiled over.
«You know what?» she said calmly. «Im going for a walk.»
She left swiftly, ignoring Henrys confusion and Margarets glare. Outside, a chilly November drizzle fell, but she barely noticed. She walked briskly, directionless, just away from the suffocating flat.
In an empty park, she sat on a wet bench. Her phone buzzedHenry. She ignored it. Let him fret.
When he called the fifth time, she answered.
«Where are you?» His voice was strained. «Youve been gone an hour!»
«Im thinking,» she said. «About us. About how I cant do this anymore.»
«Over hand cream?» he said incredulously.
«Its *not* about the cream!» Her voice broke. «Im drowning, Henry. Either your mother leaves, or… I dont know what happens next.»
«Are you serious?»
«Ill rent a room,» she said firmly. «For a month, until her house is fixed. Then we talk.»
«Youd leave over this?»
«Its not *this*,» she said softly. «Its about keeping *me*and maybe us.»
Hanging up, she felt relief. For the first time in weeks, shed chosen for herself.
Rising, she headed for the exit. A divorced friend had a spare room. Temporary, but a start.
As for Henryperhaps this separation would help him see that marriage wasnt just son and mother, but partnership. And maybe Margaret would learn that a daughter-in-law wasnt a rival, but a person with her own ways.
Either way, Elizabeth wouldnt return to the cramped flat where shed lost herself.
Not today.
