This is my room now, declared the sister-in-law, dragging my belongings into the hallway.
Sophie, do you seriously think this soup is edible? Laura wrinkled her nose, stirring the murky liquid in her bowl. The potatoes arent even cooked properly.
Eat what youre given, Sophie replied flatly, not looking up from her plate. This isnt a Michelin-starred restaurant.
Im not just being difficult. I just want a decent meal after work. Back home, Mum always had a hot roast ready when Dad got in.
Sophie pressed her lips together. Here we go again. Laura had been living with them for six monthsever since her divorceand every day brought a new complaint. The soup was undercooked, the house was dusty, the telly was too loud.
Laura, if you dont like it, youre welcome to cook yourself, Sophie said, setting her bowl in the sink. No ones stopping you.
When am I supposed to cook? I work till seven, then its another hour and a half on the Tube.
So Im meant to play housekeeper, then?
Tom, Sophies husband, shuffled into the kitchen, his hair tousled from an afternoon nap, his T-shirt creased.
Girls, are you at it again? He stretched and yawned. The whole flat can hear you.
Were not arguing, Laura flashed her brother a sweet smile. Just discussing dinner.
Sophie shot her sister-in-law a sideways glance. The way Lauras tone shifted the second Tom walked in was astonishing. Suddenly, she was all charm.
Tom, could you talk to the landlord about the heating? Laura continued. My rooms freezing. Im shivering all night.
Tom scratched his head.
Its the same for everyone in the building. Winters brutal this year.
But maybe the radiators need bleeding? Or something?
Sophie silently cleared the table. *My room*. How easily Laura called the living room hers. Theyd agreed shed stay for a monthjust until she found a flat to rent.
Sophie, wheres the blanket? Laura asked. The blue one that was on the sofa?
In the wash, Sophie replied shortly.
When will it be dry? Im freezing.
Tomorrow.
What am I supposed to do tonight?
Sophie turned to face her. Laura wore an expression of childish helplessnessone that worked wonders on men.
Laura, there are other blankets. In the wardrobe.
Where exactly? I dont know where you keep things.
Sophie marched to the bedroom and pulled out a thick fleece.
Here. Take it.
Thanks so much. Maybe dont wash this one straight away? Just in case.
Laura, we have a washing machine. We do laundry regularly.
Laura clutched the blanket to her chest.
Of course. Im just used to a proper system. At home, we always had spares of everything.
Sophies stomach twisted. Another dig about how this wasnt up to Lauras standards.
Tom, have you thought about asking for a raise? Laura perched beside her brother on the sofa. David from my office just got a £2,000 bump.
Tom shifted uncomfortably.
Im not David. Different job, different pay.
But you could try. The cost of livings gone mad.
Sophie decided to leave before she said something shed regret. She slipped into the bathroom and turned on the tap, pretending to wash up.
Through the wall, she heard Laura murmuring to Tom. Her sister-in-law had a gift for making every request sound reasonableand every objection from Sophie seem petty.
Half an hour later, Tom knocked on the bathroom door.
Sophie, come out. We need to talk.
She dried her hands and stepped into the living room. Laura sat smugly on the sofa, while Tom stood between them, guilt written all over his face.
Whats going on? Sophie asked.
Laura and I were talking he began. Shes really struggling with the cold in here. Our bedrooms much warmer.
Sophie felt her blood run cold.
And?
Maybe we could swap? Just temporarily. Laura takes the bedroom, and well set up in here.
Tom, are you serious?
Think about it. Were young, healthy. Lauras been through a lotshes stressed, always coming down with something.
Sophie glanced at Laura. She sat with downcast eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched.
Thats *our* bedroom, Tom. *Our* bed, *our* things.
Its temporary. Just until Laura finds a place.
Is she even looking?
Laura lifted her head.
Of course! But rents are insane right now. Maybe another month or two. Not long.
Sophie knew that meant at least six more months. Maybe longer.
Tom, lets talk privately, she said.
They shut themselves in the kitchen.
Do you hear what youre asking? Sophie whispered. This is *our* home.
I know. But Lauras my sister. Shes in a rough spot.
And what am I? A stranger?
Dont be daft. Shes depressed after the divorce. She needs support.
And I dont? Ive spent six months living like a guest in my own flat. I cant watch telly because it bothers her. I cant have friends over because shes tired. I cook for three, clean for three.
Sophie, dont exaggerate.
Im not! And now you want to hand her our *bedroom*?
Tom rubbed his forehead.
Its temporary. A couple of months, max.
And then what? Shell want the whole flat?
Dont be selfish.
Sophie nearly choked.
*Im* selfish because I wont give up my bedroom?
Keep your voice downshell hear.
Let her! This is *my* home, and Ill say what I like!
A knock at the door.
Everything alright? Lauras voice was sickly sweet.
Tom 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, Tom said quickly. Weve sorted it.
Sophie watched the scene unfold, knowing shed lost. Laura was a master at playing the victim, and Tom always fell for it.
Fine, Sophie relented. Take the bedroom.
Really? Laura beamed. Thank you! Ill be so careful, I promise.
The next day, while Sophie was at work, Laura moved in. When Sophie returned that evening, her belongings were stacked in bin bags and boxes in the living room.
Laura, what is this? Sophie asked, staring at her dresses heaped in a pile.
Oh, just your things, Laura called from the bedroomSophies *former* bedroom. I moved them carefully. Needed the wardrobe space.
*Temporarily*, we said.
Yes, temporarily. But Ive got to put my clothes *somewhere*. They cant stay in a suitcase.
Sophie 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 looked dirty.
It was *clean*!
Well, it didnt seem fresh. I like things spotless.
Sophies hands clenched.
And whered *your* bedding come from?
Bought it today. Bamboo fibreso good for the skin.
This is *my* room now, Laura announced, folding another jumper as if Sophie werent even there.
At dinner, Laura was sickeningly sweet.
Sophie, thank you *so* much, she gushed, serving herself extra mash. First proper sleep Ive had in months. The bedrooms so much cosier.
Tom nodded.
See? You were worried for nothing.
Tom, when *is* Laura planning to move out? Sophie asked.
Laura coughed.
Sophie, dont rush her, Tom chided. Shes just settling in.
Im not rushing. Just asking.
Sophie, Im *trying*, Laura whined. But rents are *impossible* on my salary.
What about your ex? Child support?
We havent sorted that yet. Its a long process.
So the divorce isnt even final?
Laura hesitated.
It is! Just the finances arent
