Mom, I didnt sign up to be your maid, I hear Alex on the phone, his voice tight.
Listen, love, weve got a problem. The landlord wants us out of the flat immediately. Sort the bedroom, clear as much space as you can. Well be there this afternoon with the whole family. Lucy hears the words and pauses, the morning call from her son echoing through the kitchen.
Honestly? Ive read that you cant evict someone in winter without a proper tenancy agreement, even if theres no written contract. They should at least give us time to find a new place, she mutters, taken aback.
No time at all. Natalie argued with the landlady yesterday and shes the one whos caused this, Alex snaps back.
Ah, now it makes sense. Natalie needs to learn to keep her mouth shut and treat people with a bit of respect, Lucy remarks dryly.
Please, Mum, dont start! Alex growls. You know the mood is already awful. I told you to sort the room; well be back with the boxes tonight. He hangs up, his tone sharp.
Lucy hears the click of the line and drops onto the floor, bewildered. Yesterday at work had been brutal: two new hires arrived, her boss demanded she show them everything, she had to finish two reports for senior management and juggle a mountain of other tasks. By evening she barely crawls back to her small twobedroom flat in Croydon.
The weekend had been mapped out in detail. Saturday was supposed to be a chance to catch up on sleep, then a stroll through HydePark in the late afternoon. Sunday was earmarked for a coffee with her friend and a shoprun. Now everything feels shattered.
She cant picture four people crammed into her modest flat: herself, Alex, his wife Natalie, and her sevenyearold grandson Oliver. Grand plans for the weekend dissolve into a frantic cleanup of Alexs former bedroom, moving a few boxes, then a dash to the supermarket and a marathon of cooking.
Lucy isnt angry at Alex or Oliver; the tension lies with Natalie. Their relationship has always been a bit strained, and Lucy tries to stay respectful to avoid upsetting her son. She constantly tells Natalie to be more conciliatory, but Natalie either brushes her off or launches into another drama.
Despite the wrecked plans and sour mood, Lucy finally gets to cleaning. She heads to the shop, prepares dinner, and by evening the flat is tidy. When Alex arrives with his family, the place bursts with noise and laughter. Lucy retreats early to her bedroom. Alex and Natalie linger at the table while Oliver watches cartoons.
Good night, then. Youll clear the table yourselves, right, Nat? Lucy says, leaving the kitchen.
Sure, Natalie mumbles without looking away from her phone.
Halfasleep, Lucy hears the muffled chuckles and footfalls but pretends theyre nothing. She genuinely believes Alexs visit is shortterm, just a place to stay while they sort a new flat. Natalie, however, has been stirring trouble herself. Lucy has urged her many times to negotiate and show respect, but Natalie either shrugs it off or escalates the argument.
The next morning Lucy wakes to the alarm, walks into the kitchen and freezes. Cups of halfdrunk tea, a pile of candy wrappers and apple cores litter the table. In the sink sits a mountain of unwashed dishes.
Mum, whats for breakfast? Alex shuffles in, still in traffic, his eyes halfopen.
Make some toast and tea. Ill just have coffee, Lucy replies.
Mum, Im stuck in a jam. Ill starve on toast alone.
Then blame the wife. Let her spend forty minutes in the bathroom and whip up a proper breakfast for her husband. I didnt sign up to be your servant, yet here I am washing dishes because you didnt tidy up yesterday.
Before she can finish, Natalie appears, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
So I knew it. Lucy Thompson, its half past eight and youre already complaining.
Im not complaining, Nat. Im just talking to Alex. Could you at least make him breakfast? I cant keep washing and cooking for you both forever.
Okay, Natalie replies, still glued to her phone.
The following five days pass with a needlesharp tension. Lucy holds herself together, hoping Alex will resolve the flat issue within a week so she can return to a normal weekend.
Friday night brings no sign of the family moving out. Lucy assumes Alex just doesnt want to drag her into his mess. Saturday morning finds Alex and Natalie sleeping like the dead. By noon Alex finally emerges from his room, and Lucy realises theres no plan to relocate at all.
On Sunday she asks him directly:
Alex, have you found a place?
Been looking. Everythings either too pricey or too far. Well probably stay with you another week.
Well, stay then, Lucy answers, resigned. She cant throw her son and his family out onto the street; shell endure another week. Anything is better than a fullblown fight.
But nothing changes. A week later the family is still there, seemingly settled in her flat, not even searching for a new rental. Natalie barely lifts a finger at home. She tosses dirty plates into the sink and crashes onto the sofa to sleep. She drops laundry into a basket, leaving Lucy to wash, iron, cook and tidy the whole weekend.
Natalie, Im heading to the shop; could you please sweep the floor?
Lucy, youre the one who runs this house. Ill do something else later maybe tomorrow.
Lucy, you are the owner, but you also live here, Lucy points out evenly.
Whats your problem? My head hurts! Got it? Natalie shouts.
This is absurd! Lucy snaps back.
Exactly! You made it happen! Natalie retorts scornfully.
Lucy decides not to feed the fire. She grabs the groceries, does a wet clean, then sits down with a cup of tea and tries to rest.
A sudden, relentless thump wakes her: Oliver is bouncing a ball inside.
Oliver, you should play with that outside, not in the flat. Its evening, the neighbours could hear, Lucy warns.
Grandma I want to play now, but Mum and Dad wont take me out, the boy replies, still dribbling the ball.
Stop it, Lucy orders.
Alex pops his head out of his room.
Alex, tell Oliver to quit.
Mum, he always plays inside Alex begins, but Natalie cuts in.
Thats exactly it! Youve been picking on me all morning, now youre nagging the kid. What do you want, to throw us out? she shouts.
Natalie, if you cant respect my house rules, perhaps you should find somewhere else to live, Lucy says.
A heavy silence follows.
Fine! Youre kicking us out! And by the way, Im pregnant! I cannot be stressed! Natalie yells, storming off.
Mom, she really is pregnant, Alex whispers, horrified.
Yes, I didnt know. Im not asking for miracles, I just want my own home.
That evening Natalie packs a bag, announces theyll move to her parents place in Brighton while Alex continues the flat hunt.
Lucy feels the weight of the fallout. She tried to reason with Natalie, but Natalies stubborn pride keeps her from backing down. She pretends to cry, sniffs, and refuses any compromise.
Three days later Alex finally secures a new flat in Kingston and moves out with his family. Lucy gives the place a deep clean, takes a weeks holiday and slowly returns to her routine. Life resumes, though a bitter aftertaste lingers.
She now talks to Alex only sparingly, learning about his newborn granddaughter from mutual acquaintances. Its awkward, the family feud still hanging over the news, but she does what she can.
Lucy lives for herself now. Twice a year she retreats to a spa in Bath. She sends money to her grandchildren on their birthdays. Alex rings to wish her a happy birthday, but its always just a quick call.
No spa or quiet can fully replace the warmth of grandchildrens visits, yet happiness comes first. Lucy believes you can give happiness to others only when youre truly content yourself. She has made her peace and is ready to reconnect with her grandchildren whenever they wish, leaving the decision entirely up to Natalie. All that remains is the conscience of the one who chose the path.
