Dont like my rules? Then get out! snapped Margaret, her voice sharp as she glared across the dinner table.
Mrs. Wilkins, what if we tried the potatoes a different way? Ive got a lovely recipe with mushrooms, Emily suggested carefully, stirring the soup.
I dont need your recipes! Margaret snapped, not looking up from peeling carrots. Thirty years Ive cooked for this family, and now you waltz in with your fancy ideas?
Emily sighed and kept stirring. Six months had passed since she and James moved in with his mother after their flat burned down. Six months of endless bickering, disapproving glances, and backhanded remarks disguised as concern.
Mum, come on, James said as he stepped into the kitchen, kissing Emilys head. Ems a good cook. Maybe we could try something new?
Oh, so now youre against me too? Margaret threw her hands up. Thirty-two years I raised you, fed you, and now my cooking isnt good enough?
Mum, thats not what I said
Then what is it? Margaret smacked the knife against the chopping board. First you invade my home, now you tell me how to cook?
Emilys chest tightened. *Invade*. As if they were squatters, not victims of a fire with nowhere else to go.
I wasnt telling you, just suggesting, she said softly, turning off the stove.
Exactly! Suggesting! Who asked you? This is *my* house, *my* kitchen! Margaret stood, hands on her hips. *I* do the cooking here!
James looked helplessly between them. Emily saw the guilt in his eyes, and it only made her ache more.
Ill set the table, she muttered, leaving before she slammed the door.
In the living room, fourteen-year-old Lily sat on the sofa doing homework. She glanced up.
Another row? she whispered.
Just a discussion, Emily lied, forcing a smile as she grabbed plates.
Mum, when are we getting our own place again?
The question stung. The insurance had barely covered the damage, and between Jamess lorry-driving job and her teaching salary, saving was slow.
Soon, love. Just hang in there.
I cant! Lily burst out. Shes unbearable! Yesterday she screamed at me for playing musicsaid it was racket! This morning, she complained I walk too loudand Im *tiptoeing*!
Emily stroked her daughters hair. Lily was patient, but even she had limits.
Shes used to living alone. Its hard for her.
Shes not a real grandma, Lily muttered. Real grandmas are nice.
Shh, shell hear
I dont care!
A crash came from the kitchenJamess voice, then Margarets shrill reply. Emily rushed back.
What happened?
Your *wife* broke my mothers china! Margaret pointed at the shattered plate. The last piece I had!
James stood frozen, broom in hand. Mum, it was an accident! I was helping
Help? Teach your wife some respect first!
It was *James* who dropped it! Emily snapped.
And whose fault is *that*? Margaret rounded on her. Since you moved in, hes a mess! Never dropped a thing before!
Mum, thats not fair James tried.
Oh, isnt it? Before marriage, you were a proper son. Now? Its all *her*!
Emilys hands shook. Six months of tension boiled over.
Mrs. Wilkins, enough, she said, quieter than she felt. Weve tried not to intrude. We help. We pay bills
Fifty quid a month! Margaret scoffed. Youd spend triple on electricity alone!
You *told* us that was enough!
And Im not a charity case! Ive got my pension!
James dumped the shards in the bin, his face grim.
Lets just eat. The soups getting cold.
Who could eat after this? Margaret snapped.
We werent shouting, Emily said. *You* were.
*Me*? In *my* house, I cant raise my voice?
You can. But why blame us for everything?
Blame? For *disrupting* my life? Six months of noise, mess
We stick to your schedule! We *clean*!
Liar! Yesterday, your breakfast plate was left in the sink!
That was *yours*! You had porridge!
Mine? Of course, now its *my* fault!
Mum, *stop*, James cut in.
Dont you *dare* side with her! Margarets voice cracked. You chose her. Fine. But why must *I* suffer?
Emily wiped her face. Fine. You wont have to.
Margaret went still. Whats that mean?
Well leave. Tomorrow.
James paled. With what money?
Well manage. A bedsit, anything.
Margaret faltered. Im not *throwing* you out
Youre not. But were in the way.
Wait James pleaded.
Whats to discuss? Emily said flatly. Your mums right. Her house, her rules. Were guests overstaying.
I never said *go*! Margarets voice wavered.
No. But you make sure we *feel* it.
Margarets lips parted, then shut.
Em, dont decide now James begged.
I have. Ill ring about lettings tonight.
A *hotel*?
Better than daily rows.
Margaret stared at the floor. Lily peered in.
Mum, should I pack?
Yes. We leave tomorrow.
*Yes*! Lily dashed off.
Mum, *say* something, James urged.
Margarets eyes glistened. Whats to say? If Im so awful
Youre not, Emily sighed. Were just different.
Em, please
Six months of this, James. Im *done*.
Margaret sniffled. I never meant to
Emily, surprising herself, hugged her. I know. This is best.
But Lily
Shell visit. Youll visit *us*.
James sank onto a chair. Bloody hell.
Emily squeezed his shoulder. Well be okay.
By nightfall, shed found a colleague renting a cheap flatsmall, not central, but *theirs*. Margaret hovered, opening her mouth, then stopping. Only at bedtime did she whisper, Must you go?
Emily nodded.
Maybe we could try?
No. You deserve peace. So do we.
At dawn, as they loaded the taxi, Margaret stood silent, lip trembling.
Come for dinner once were settled, Emily offered.
Margaret nodded. Youll be all right?
We will.
Lily waved from the cab. James gave the driver directions. Emily hugged Margaret one last time.
Take care, Mrs. Wilkins.
You too.
As the taxi pulled away, Emily exhaled. Ahead lay uncertaintybut no more walking on eggshells.
Regrets? James asked.
None. You?
None.
Lily squeezed her hand. Mum, can I play music in the new place?
Emily smiled. Just not too loud.
The cab turned onto an unfamiliar street. A new life began.
