Monday, 12November
Ive been living in this flat for seven years now, sharing mornings with James and enduring the endless barbs of his mother, Margaret. Every day she reminds me that Im the outsider who landed here from the sticks and made herself at home in a readymade nest.
Emily, the dishes are still in the sink, she says, popping into the kitchen unannounced, key in hand the one James gave her before we were even married. Ive begged him to take it back, but he just waves me off: Shes my mum, love.
I was going to wash them after lunch, I reply without looking up from my toast. Our fiveyearold, Oliver, sits beside me, spooning his porridge while stealing glances at his grandmother. He senses the tension; children feel everything.
Was going to! Margaret snorts. Youre always going to. Then James comes home exhausted and the flat is a mess. At least the child is turning out normal not like you.
I clench my fists under the table. Not like me? Im the one who gets up with him when hes unwell, the one who reads him bedtime stories, the one who arranged his place at nursery and attends every parentteacher meeting. I stay silent, as I always do.
Margaret scans the kitchen with a hostesss eye, though she herself arrived here from a small village near York in the eighties and married Jamess father. She prefers not to think of those days; now shes a Londoner, and Im the provincial newcomer.
This flat came into the family from my motherinlaw, she launches into her favourite refrain. Youre just a guest. A temporary guest.
Temporary guest has been my label for seven years. A temporary guest who gave her a grandson, who works from dawn till dusk, who poured every penny of our savings into renovating the flat.
Mom, thats enough, I say, weary.
Dont Mom me! Its Margaret! And remember your place. Im the elder here, which means Im in charge.
Oliver frowns and pushes his plate away.
Grandma, why are you mad at Mum?
Finish your porridge, love. And let your mother learn how to keep a house in order.
That evening, when James finally walks through the door, I try again.
James, we cant keep going like this. Your mother turns up whenever she likes, scolds me in front of the child, and you still keep her keys.
He slips off his shoes without meeting my eyes.
Em, shes my mum. Shes old, alone. The flat did come from my grandmother
James! I grab his arm. Weve been married seven years! We have a child! This is our home!
Yours, ours. But formally the lease is in my name, and she got used to dropping by when I lived alone
Then transfer half to me. Officially.
He winces, like a toothache.
Why all the paperwork? We love each other, but love and legal documents are not the same thing. I didnt realise that at first.
A week later my parents arrive for ten days to look after Oliver while our holiday winds down. My dad works at a factory, my mum at the local hospital. Theyve helped us countless times the bathroom remodel cost about £2,000, the new furniture another £1,000, and when Oliver fell ill it was their money that saved us.
Im so glad youre here, I hug my mum. Oliver missed his grandparents.
We hope were not in the way, my dad worries. Its cramped enough already
Dont be silly, Dad! This is our home. Make yourselves comfortable.
James greets them warmly, as always, though I can see the nervousness in his eyes. He phones Margaret to warn her that my parents have arrived.
Mum, Emilys parents are staying with us for a week Yes, everythings fine, what are youright.
The next day James and I head to work, leaving my parents with Oliver. Grandma Vera tells him about birds, Grandpa George shows him magic tricks.
At half past one, my mum calls, voice trembling.
Emily, your motherinlaw is shouting that we moved in without permission
My heart drops.
Mom, whats happening?
She says we should pack our things and leave. That its her flat and she didnt invite anyone
In the background I hear Margaret:
All these outsiders! Think they can settle wherever they like! This is private property!
Stay calm, Mum. Im on my way. Let me speak to Margaret.
Shes furious, and Olivers scared.
Wheres Oliver?
In his room. Granddad is with him.
I drop everything and race home, calling James on the way.
Your mum is throwing my parents out!
What?! Emily, Im coming too.
And take her keys, finally! Ive had enough!
I arrive in half the usual time. My parents suitcase is by the front door Margaret has thrown their belongings onto the hallway. I rush upstairs and hear shouting:
No settling here! You have your own daughter let her support you!
I fling the door open. My parents stand in the hallway, stunned, my mum on the verge of tears, Oliver whimpering from his room.
Margaret, what is happening?
She turns, face flushed. Ask your parents! They decided to set themselves up here, did they not! This isnt a hotel, its a private home!
This is our home! I shout. Yours and Jamess! My parents are my guests!
Yours? Mine? Youre nobody here! Do you have papers for the flat? No! But my son does! So Im the one in charge!
My mum steps forward.
Emily, maybe 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!
James arrives, his face dark.
Mum, what are you doing?
James, Im protecting our home! They want to settle in here!
Theyre guests for a week.
A week! And then what? Theyll stay forever! I know the type!
I find Oliver in the nursery, sniffling, Granddad George stroking his head.
Mum, why did Grandma Margaret yell at Grandma Vera? he asks.
A lump rises in my throat.
Oliver, sometimes grownups cant agree. Itll be alright.
Will Grandma Vera and Granddad George leave?
No, love. Theyll stay, just as we planned.
Back in the living room, James tries to calm his mother.
Mum, why are you acting like this? Its not right.
Not right? No one asked me is that right? I find out there are strangers living here!
Theyre not strangers! Theyre Emilys parents!
Theyre nothing to me!
I pull James aside.
James, I need to speak with you alone.
In the kitchen, I close the door.
James, this is it. I cant go on. Either you sort this with your mother once and for all, or Im leaving.
Youre being rash
Im not being rash! She threw my parents onto the street! She made a scene in front of our child! How much more can I take?
Shes just worried
James, I whisper, if you dont take her keys now and transfer half the flat to me, Ill file for divorce.
He goes pale.
Emily
No Emily. Seven years of humiliation! My parents poured their last savings into our renovation, and she treats them like dogs!
But the formalities
Not formalities. Guarantees. I want to own this home too, not be a temporary guest.
He stares out the window, silent.
How will I explain this to my mother?
Tomorrow Ill file for divorce. And Ill take Oliver.
He finally nods. All right. Tomorrow well sort it out.
We return to the living room. Margaret sits on the sofa, still fuming.
Mom, James says, hand me the keys.
What?
The flat keys. Give them to me.
James, what are you
Mom, this isnt right. Emilys right. This is our home.
Her face turns white.
So youre throwing me out? For her?
Im not throwing you out. Just give me the keys and apologise to Emilys parents.
Never!
Then dont come any more.
She rises, shakes the keys from her purse and slams them onto the table.
Fine! Well see how you live without your mother! And that wife of yours will be the first to leave the moment anything goes wrong!
She hammers the door shut; the windows rattle.
Silence settles.
My parents stand in the hallway, unsure what to do.
Please forgive them, I say. Make yourselves at home. This is your home too.
My mum embraces me.
Emily, maybe I should have.
I should have, Mum. Long ago.
The next day James and I go to a solicitor and put half the title in my name. I am no longer a temporary guest. This is my home.
Margaret doesnt call for three days. Then she phones James, crying into the receiver:
Son, I didnt mean it I was just worried
Mom, come over. But behave yourself.
She arrives with a cake and flowers, asks my parents for forgiveness. It feels forced, but they accept it.
I got nervous, she admits. Older people get suspicious.
My parents, ever kind, forgive her.
Now Margaret calls before visiting, no longer criticises my housekeeping, and calls me Emily instead of a guest.
When my parents return a month later for Olivers birthday before he starts school, no one throws them out. Margaret even helps set the table.
You did the right thing, my mum says later in the kitchen. You shouldve done it long ago.
Yes, Mum. Long ago.
And Margaret no longer sees me as a temporary guest. My name is on the title, and 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 house.
