Now This Is My Room,” Declared My Sister-in-Law as She Tossed My Belongings into the Hallway

This is my room now, declared my sister-in-law, shoving my things into the hallway.

Emma, honestly, do you really think this soup is edible? Laura wrinkled her nose, stirring the murky liquid in her bowl. The potatoes arent even cooked through.

Eat whats given, Emma replied flatly, not looking up from her plate. This isnt a restaurant.

Im not just being fussy. Id just like a proper meal after work. At Mums, Dad always had hot stew waiting when he got home.

Emma pressed her lips together. Here we go again. Laura had been living with them for six monthsever since her divorceand every day, there was something new to complain about. The soup was undercooked. The house was dusty. The telly was too loud.

Laura, if you dont like it, youre welcome to cook yourself, Emma said, setting her bowl in the sink. No ones stopping you.

And when exactly am I supposed to cook? I work till seven, and it takes me an hour and a half to get home.

So Im supposed to play housemaid now?

Into the kitchen shuffled Mark, Emmas husband, tousle-haired from his nap, wearing a rumpled T-shirt.

Girls, at it again? He stretched and yawned. The whole flat can hear you.

Were not arguing, Laura said, flashing her brother a sweet smilea completely different tone from before. Just discussing dinner.

Emma shot her sister-in-law a sidelong glance. How quickly she changed when Mark was around. Suddenly, she was all charm.

Mark, could you talk to the landlord about the heating? Laura went on. My rooms freezing. Im shivering all night.

Mark scratched his head.

Its the same for everyone in the building. Its winter.

But maybe the radiators need bleeding? Or something?

Emma silently cleared the dishes. *My room.* How easily Laura called the living room hers. Theyd agreed shed stay just a month while she looked for a place.

Emma, wheres the blanket? Laura asked. The blue one that was on the sofa?

In the wash, Emma replied shortly.

When will it be dry? Im cold.

Tomorrow.

And what am I supposed to do tonight?

Emma turned to face her. Laura wore that helpless, doe-eyed look that worked so well on men.

There are others in the cupboard.

But where exactly? I dont know where you keep things.

Emma went to the bedroom and pulled out a thick throw.

Here. Take it.

Thanks ever so much. And maybe dont wash the other one just yet? In case I need it again.

Laura, we *have* a washing machine. We do laundry regularly.

Laura hugged the blanket to herself.

Of course, I understand. Im just used to a certain standard. At home, we always had spares of everything.

Something tightened in Emmas chest. Another dig about how this wasnt up to Lauras usual lifestyle.

Mark, have you thought about asking for a raise? Laura sat beside her brother on the sofa. At my office, Thompson just got a fifteen-grand bump.

Mark shifted awkwardly.

Well, Im not Thompson. Different job.

But you could try. Prices are mad these days. Were scrimping on everything.

Emma decided to leave before she said something shed regret. She went to the bathroom and ran the tap, pretending to wash up.

Through the wall, she could hear Lauras soft murmurs to Mark. She had a way of making every request sound reasonableand every objection from Emma sound petty.

Half an hour later, Mark knocked on the bathroom door.

Emma, come out. We need to talk.

She dried her hands and stepped into the living room. Laura sat on the sofa, looking smug, while Mark stood between them with a guilty expression.

Whats this about? Emma asked.

Laura and I were talking he began. The thing is, she really is cold in here. Our bedrooms much warmer.

Emmas stomach dropped.

And what are you suggesting?

Maybe we swap for a bit? Laura takes the bedroom, and we sleep in the living room?

Mark, are you serious?

Think about it. Were young, healthy. Lauras been through a lotdivorce, stress, always ill.

Emma glanced at Laura. She sat with downcast eyes, but the ghost of a smirk played at her lips.

Thats *our* bedroom, Mark. Our bed, our wardrobe, our things.

Whats the big deal? Its temporary. Just till Laura finds a place.

Is she even looking?

Laura looked up.

Of course I am! But prices now Its impossible to find anything decent. But Im trying.

How much longer do you need?

Maybe another month or two. Not more.

Emma knew that meant six months minimum. Or longer.

Mark, lets talk privately, she said.

They went to the kitchen and shut the door.

Mark, do you realise what youre asking? Emma kept her voice low. This is *our* flat. *Our* home.

I know. But Lauras my sister. Shes in a rough spot.

And what am I? A stranger?

Dont be daft. Its justshes depressed after the divorce. She needs support.

And I dont? Ive lived like a lodger for six months. I cant watch telly because it bothers her. I cant have friends over because shes tired. I cook for three, clean up after three.

Emma, dont exaggerate.

Im *not.* And now you want to give her our *bedroom?*

Mark rubbed his forehead.

Its temporary. A month or twowell manage.

And then what? Shell ask for the whole flat?

Dont be selfish.

Emma nearly choked.

Selfish? *Im* selfish because I wont hand over my bedroom?

Keep your voice downshell hear.

Let her! Its *my* flat, and Ill say what I think!

A knock at the door.

May I? Lauras voice was sickly sweet.

Mark opened it.

Sorry to interrupt, Laura said, stepping in. I dont want to cause trouble. Maybe I should stay with a friend instead?

No, Laura, Mark said quickly. Youre not going anywhere. Well sort it.

Emma watched the scene unfold and knew shed lost. Laura was a master at playing the victim, and Mark always fell for it.

Fine, Emma relented. Take the bedroom.

Really? Laura brightened. Oh, thank you! Ill be ever so careful, I promise.

The next day, while Emma was at work, Laura moved in. When Emma got home that evening, her things were stuffed into bin bags and boxes in the living room.

Laura, what is this? Emma asked, staring at her dresses piled in a heap.

Oh, just your things, Laura said, peeking out from Emmas old bedroom. I moved them carefully. I needed the wardrobe.

*Temporarily*, we agreed.

Well, yes, temporarily. But Ive got to put my things *somewhere*, havent I? They cant live in a suitcase.

Emma pushed open the bedroom door. Lauras creams and perfumes sat on her dressing table. Lauras dresses hung in her wardrobe. Lauras bedsheets were on her bed.

Laura, wheres *my* bedding?

I put it in the wash. It was dirty.

It was *clean!*

Well, it didnt seem it. I like things tidy.

Emma felt her temper rising.

And where did *your* bedding come from?

Bought it today. Lovely, isnt it? Bamboo fibreso good for the skin.

This is *my* room now, Laura announced, continuing to unpack as if Emma werent there.

At dinner, Laura was unbearably chirpy.

Emma, thank you *so* much, she said, helping herself to potatoes. First proper sleep Ive had in months. The bedrooms *so* much warmer.

Mark nodded.

See? And you were worried.