**Diary Entry A Lesson in Boundaries**
*”Ill come in when I pleaseI have the keys,”* said my mother-in-law as she barged into our bedroom at five in the morning. The scrape of the lock made me freeze, a damp cloth still in my hand. Id been scrubbing a sticky jam stainleft by Irene Barbara herselfand I knew that sound all too well.
Pete was still asleep. Sunday, half eight.
The door swung open, and there she stood. In one hand, a string bag stuffed with something green; in the other, a lead attached to her trembling little terrier.
*”Lottie, still in bed?”* she chirped, stepping over the threshold. *”Brought you some fresh dill from the garden. Homegrown!”*
I straightened up, my back stiffening.
*”Good morning, Irene. We were sleeping. Well, Pete was.”*
She ignored me and floated toward the kitchen. The dog gave a half-hearted yap and scampered after her.
*”I was quiet as a mouse. Honestly! Just popped by after the marketthought Id save you the trouble. Better than that shop rubbish, full of chemicals.”*
I followed, watching my one slow morning of the week crumble before me.
*”We couldve bought our own. Or you couldve rung. Wed have come down.”*
She turned, her gaze sharp and appraising, sweeping over my old T-shirt, bare feet, and tangled hair.
*”Dont be silly, darling. Why should you bother? Ive got keys, havent I?”*
She said it like she was granting me some divine favouras if those keys didnt belong to *my* flat, but to heaven itself.
That evening, I finally worked up the nerve. Pete was sprawled on the sofa, absently scratching his stomach while some crime drama droned on.
*”Pete, we need to talk about your mum.”*
He sighed, eyes still glued to the screen.
*”Not this again, Lottie. She just brought us dill.”*
*”She let herself into our flat at half eight on a Sunday without calling. Used her own keys. Thats not normal.”*
*”Whats the big deal? Shes family. Not some stranger.”*
I sat beside him, snatched the remote, and switched off the telly. The sudden silence made my next words louder.
*”Pete, this is our home. Our space. I should be able to walk around naked if I want. I shouldnt wake up to the sound of a lock turning.”*
*”Oh, come off it,”* he grimaced. *”Naked, really? Mums just being thoughtful.”*
*”Then she can leave her thoughtfulness at the door. Or at least call before coming in. Lets ask for the keys back.”*
He jerked upright as if scalded.
*”Are you mad? Take Mums keys? Shed be gutted! After everything shes done for me? Shed think were cutting her out!”*
*”Shes the one cutting *us* out!”* I snapped.
He stared at me like Id suggested robbing a bank. There was fear in his eyes, and worsecomplete incomprehension. To him, his mum with her keys was as natural as the sunrise.
A week later, I woke to the bedroom light flicking on. Five in the bloody morning.
There stood Irene Barbara in a raincoat thrown over her nightdress, squinting in the glare, clutching Petes phone.
*”Petey, you forgot this,”* she whispered conspiratorially. *”Saw it on the side when you left. Couldnt have you at work without it!”*
I sat up, pulling the duvet to my chin. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe. Pete mumbled something and rolled over.
Without sparing me a glance, she tiptoed to his side and set the phone down. Then she surveyed the room with a critical eye.
*”Bit dusty in here, Lottie. You ought to give it a wipe.”*
With that, she left. The front door clicked shut.
I sat there under the harsh light, staring at my sleeping husband. He hadnt even stirred. He didnt get it. The line hadnt just been crossedit had been erased.
When he finally woke and I calmly recounted the visit, he just waved me off.
*”She meant well, Lottie. Worrying about me.”*
*”Pete, she walked into our bedroom. At five AM.”*
*”So? She wasnt naked. Shes not a stranger.”*
That afternoon, I rang her myself. My hands shook, but my resolve didnt.
*”Irene, I need to talk about this morning.”*
*”Yes, darling?”* Not a hint of shame in her voice.
*”Please dont come over unannounced. Especially that early. Especially not to our bedroom.”*
Silence. Then, icy and indignant:
*”I dont know what youre on about. I raised that boy, put money into this flatmy savings, my whole life. So remember this: Ill come when I please. Ive got the keys.”*
The line went dead.
Pete had heard every word. But he looked away.
*”Arent you going to say anything?”* I asked as the dial tone droned on.
He shrugged, studying the wallpaper.
*”What dyou want me to say? You provoked her. Pushed her buttons. Course she reacted like that.”*
*”Provoked her? By asking her not to barge into my bedroom?”*
*”You couldve been nicer about it,”* he muttered, finally meeting my eyes. No support therejust weariness and irritation. *”Youre never happy. Mum tries, and you”*
I walked out before he finished.
That night, a wall went up between us. He didnt apologise. Didnt try to talk. Just slept on the sofa with a dramatic sigh.
A week passed. Irene stayed away, but her presence lingeredin Petes tight-lipped silence, in his hushed phone calls (*”Just Mum”*). I felt like a stranger in my own home.
Then I fell ill. A vicious sore throat, a splitting headache. I dragged myself home, desperate for a bath. The hot water, the lavender saltsI nearly dozed off.
Until I heard it.
The scrape of a key in the lock.
I went rigid. Pete? No, he wouldnt be back for hours.
The door creaked open. Rustling. Then that wretched little yap.
*”Lets see how our Lotties keeping house, Pippin,”* Irene sang. *”Bet its a right mess.”*
I sat frozen as the water turned cold. Heard her poking aroundopening the fridge, tutting.
*”Knew it. Barely a scrap. Poor Petey must be starving.”*
She was metres away, just beyond the flimsy bathroom door. The fear was visceral. This was supposed to be my safe place, and shed strolled in like she owned it.
When she moved to the kitchen, I crept out, wrapped in a robe.
She was in the lounge, inspecting my books.
*”Oh, youre home?”* Not even a flicker of guilt. *”Brought you chicken broth. Pete said you were poorly.”*
She pointed to a jar on the coffee table.
*”You shouldnt have,”* I croaked. *”I asked you to call first.”*
*”Dont be daft! Im family!”* She waved a hand. *”Who else will look after you? Petes at work, and here you are, all alone.”*
She reached for my forehead. I flinched.
*”Dont.”*
That evening, I waited for Pete like a soldier bracing for battle. Dinner was ready. The flat was spotless. I rehearsed my words.
He came in exhausted, dumped his briefcase.
*”Hi.”*
*”Hi.”* I held out a key. *”This is yours. I changed the locks.”*
He blinked at it, then at me.
*”You what? Why?”*
*”Because I decided to. No one walks into our home uninvited. No one.”*
His face darkened.
*”You did this behind my back? Youve locked my mum out?”*
*”Ive protected our family. Our home.”*
*”Youve torn us apart!”* he shouted. *”What do I even say to her?!”*
*”The truth. That her sons grown. That he has his own life.”*
We screamed at each otherme pouring out every hurt, him ranting about duty, respect, my ingratitude.
Then, mid-row, we heard it.
The scrape. A key, struggling in the lock. Again. Again. Then furious banging.
*”Pete! Lottie! Open up! Whats wrong with the door?!”*
Pete froze. Looked at me, then the door, where his mother was hammering. Trapped.
The banging grew louder.
*”I know youre in there! Open this door! Lottie, this is your doing, isnt it?!”*
Pete exhaled sharply and turned the knob.
Irene stormed in, wild-eyed, face twisted with rage.
*”What have you done?!”* she shrieked, jabbing a finger at me. *”Youve shut me out! After all I”*
*”Mum,”* Pete said quietly.
She faltered.
*”What? You see what shes”*
*”I see.”* His voice was steel. *”I see that my wife had to do this because no one listened. Least of all me.”*
He turned to her.
*”This is our home. Mine and Lotties. And you will never walk in uninvited again. Understood?”*
Her mouth hung open. She couldnt believe her ears.
*”Petey”*
*”No. Im a grown man. I decide who comes into my home. Now please leave.”*
Calm. Final.
She glared at me, then turned on her heel and left.
Pete shut the doorthe new lock clicking firmly into place. When he faced me, his eyes were wet.
*”Im sorry,”* he whispered. *”I was blind.”*
He pulled me into his arms. And I knew: I hadnt just changed the locks. Id won back my husband. Our life.
**Lesson learned:** Love shouldnt come with a key to your privacy. Sometimes, you have to change the locksliterallyto protect whats yours.
