“Ive got nowhere to go!”
“I wont go back to that scoundrel! Id rather live in a basement than with him!”
“Mum, then go to the basement! Ill be divorcing you soon enough!” Alice snapped, stirring her porridge.
“Youd throw your own mother out?” Lydia clutched her chest. “Ive given my whole life to you, and this is what I get? Thanks for the care, darling!”
With a huff, her mother stormed off to their shared bedroomthe only one in their cramped flat, which had felt unbearably crowded these past three months.
Alice never imagined shed be part of such a drama. Other couples divorced and remarried, but her parents had always been the picture of stability. Just months ago, Lydia and Oliver had celebrated their ruby anniversaryforty years togetherand now her mother couldnt stand the sight of him.
One dreadful morning, Lydia arrived at her daughters doorstep with suitcases, declaring she was getting a divorce.
“Can you believe it? He cheated on me with some flighty nurse!” Lydia gasped, still catching her breath from climbing the stairs. “Fancy chasing after women half his age at his time of life! Some Romeo!”
“Mum, seriously? Are you sure? Could you have misunderstood?” Alice stared at her, baffled.
Lydia had always been dramatic, prone to spinning tales from half-heard gossip. But this time, Alice feared, she wasnt exaggerating.
“Oh, I misunderstood, did I?” Lydia scoffed. “Those photos on his phone werent sent by just anyone! Hes an old fool who couldnt leave well enough alone!”
Alice decided to deal with the truth later. For now, she soothed her mother with tea and gentle words, assuring her that even if the worst were true, life went on. She promised to helpnot realising just how literally her mother would take that.
Within days, Lydia had moved in. It wouldnt have been so bad if Alice hadnt already had a family of her ownher husband Henry and their five-year-old son, Thomas, whose boundless curiosity made privacy impossible.
At first, Alice tried to see the upside. Extra help with Thomas? Unnecessaryshe worked remotely and managed fine. Cooking? Lydias rich, greasy meals clashed with Alices diet and Henrys health. Cleaning? Their standards were worlds apart.
And that was only half the trouble.
“Right, time to change the bedding. Thomass toodo his in the morning,” Lydia announced at eleven at night, just as Alice and Henry settled in for a film.
“Now? Mum, Thomas is asleep! How are we supposed to do it in the dark?”
“Plenty of light from the hallway. Change it quietly, then off to bed. You shouldve done it earlierhonestly, youd be lost without me! The dust mitesll be running the place soon!”
Lydia would plant her hands on her hips, scanning the room for more tasks to assign.
Alice sighed but obeyed. She knew her mothers quirksarguing meant endless lectures. Lydia never backed down, while Alice had grown up yielding.
Henry didnt share her patience.
“Love, cant you just say no?” hed ask when they were alone.
“Its Mum. You know how she is,” Alice murmured.
“I do. But this is our home, our rules. Im starting to tire of this.”
“Just a little longer. She and Dad need time. Itll sort itself out.”
But Alice didnt sound convinced. Shed already spoken to her father, who confessedyes, there had been a fling.
“I dont know what came over me. Maybe I just wanted to see. Your mothers the only one Ive ever known. Now I dont know where to turn. I love her, but will she even listen?”
Truthfully, Alice understood her mother. She wouldnt forgive infidelity either. Lydia had every right to leaveyet she did nothing, as if waiting for the problem to vanish on its own.
Things only worsened. Lydia soon decided Henry was too idle.
In her parents home, chores were split evenly. Oliver vacuumed, scrubbed the bathroom weekly, even cooked the occasional stewnone of this “womens work” nonsense.
But in Alices home, Henrys contributions were different. He helped Thomas with handwriting or took him swimming, while Alice handled the rest. It made sensehe was the breadwinner, now supporting Lydia too. Alices part-time remote work covered her own luxuries.
Lydia saw no distinction.
“Youve let him off too easy!” she nagged. “Make him pull his weight in the evenings, or hell end up like my Oliver. Idle hands stray, you know.”
“Mum, well handle it.”
But Lydia wouldnt drop it. She embarked on Henrys “re-education.”
“Sit down,” shed command when Alice cleared the table. “Henry, shes been on her feet all day. Too proud to ask for help. Be a dear and wash up.”
Henry would glower but complyuntil his patience frayed. Arguments erupted in hushed tones, out of Lydias earshot.
He wasnt wrong. Alice knew it. But what could she do?
Two months in, she confronted her mother.
“Mum, this cant go on. Whats your plan?”
“Ill think of something. Ive nowhere else.” Lydia stiffened, sensing where this led.
“You doyours and Dads flat. Split it, sell it, do something!”
“I want nothing from him!” Lydia snapped, arms crossed. “Ill manage. I wont speak to him.”
So Alice and Henry “managed” insteaduntil theyd had enough. Hints about wanting their evenings back fell on deaf ears. Direct talks offended Lydia. Finally, Alice snapped, found her mother a room, and packed her bags while she showered.
“Whats this? Are you going somewhere?” Lydia demanded, towel-drying her hair.
“You are. Weve rented you a place. Best we could afford. Happy families only exist on tellyreal people need space.”
Lydia ranted, accused them of throwing her out, but they stood firm. Theyd help with rent for two months, but no more.
“Or shall we all end up dividing this flat next? Where does it stop?” Henry asked.
Lydia relentedbriefly.
“Where have you put me?” she shrieked down the phone after one night. “The place is crawling with roaches, the kitchens filthy, and the loos a disgrace!”
“Mum, we did what we could. Youre free to find somewhere else.”
But the places Lydia liked were beyond her means. Slowly, her tune changed. She muttered about solicitors and paperworkuntil one day, she announced:
“Im home. Ive come back,” she said, as if it were Alices fault.
“Really? What about Dad?”
“My feelings havent changed,” Lydia sniffed. “But Id rather endure his face than that hovel. They stole my purse while I popped to the shops! At least here Ive got my own roomno whiskered lodgers scuttling about.”
Alices heart lightened. Whether her parents reconciled or divorced no longer mattered. Let them battle it out in their own home, not hers. For the first time in months, her flat no longer felt like a boarding house.
