Will she be gone by evening?
Did she really say that? Mabel asked, echoing her husbands words.
Maxwell nodded, taking a sip from his mug. The tea was scalding, and he winced.
Exactly that. My sister has insisted that Mum reregister the twobed flat in her name and move out. She says Victor has put a ring on her, and the young couple need a place, you understand? Maxwells voice rose, a hollow imitation of his sisters tone.
Mabel stared at him, her ears refusing to believe what she heard. Demanding a flat from ones parents? As if it were a casual request.
What did Mum answer? Mabel asked cautiously.
Maxwell shook his head.
Theres no clear reply. But I know Mum, and I know how she dotes on Sophie. Anythings possible.
Could a daughter really evict her own mother? Mabel would never have imagined saying something so cruel to her parents. She had refused to borrow any money from them for a deposit; shed saved, bought a flat, paid off the mortgage before she was married, and wore that independence like a badge. It was her home, her property.
Listen, Maxwell went on, eyes drifting to some distant wall, Mum sold the country house last year to fund Sophies tuition. And what happened? She dropped out in her second year. Turns out university does require studying, can you imagine?
Mabel snorted.
Your sister never had a knack for sitting still.
Maxwell fell silent. Mabel watched the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers clenched the mug. What could she say? What advice could she give? Family was always a knotty thing.
Days turned into weeks. Maxwell called his mother a few times, each call short and strained. Mabel kept her distance, knowing this was his pain to bear.
One weekend they decided to visit the mothers flat.
Maxwell used his key to open the door, and Mabel froze in the hallway. The place was a mountain of boxes, bags, rolledup blankets. Things piled against the walls, on the sofa, on the kitchen tabletotal chaos of a move.
Mum? Maxwell called as he stepped inside.
Eleanor Reed emerged, her face drawn, shadows under her eyes. Mabel had never seen the motherinlaw look so exhausted.
Max, Mabel, come in, Eleanor whispered.
Maxwell scanned the rooms and asked plainly, Are you handing the flat over to Sophie?
Eleanor sighed, sank onto the edge of the sofa, pushing a dishbox aside.
Itll be better, love. The young couple need their own place. Victors a good lad, he works. Theyll need somewhere, and I can manage.
Mabel stood at the doorway, feeling a cold knot tighten inside her. How could anyone give away the only flat they owned? Where would Eleanor go?
Where will you live? Maxwell asked hoarsely.
Ill rent a room. My pension isnt much, but itll do. No need to worry about me.
Mabel saw Maxwells complexion drain, his hands tremble, but she stayed silent. This wasnt her battle.
Two months later Eleanor was living in a rented flat in a different borough. Maxwell visited often, bringing groceries, medicine, helping with chores. Mabel didnt object; she understood her husbands lingering grief.
One evening Maxwell came home, shoulders slumped, silence heavy. He dropped into a kitchen chair and stared at a point on the wall.
Whats wrong? Mabel asked, sitting opposite him.
Maxwell lifted his eyes slowly.
Mum cant make ends meet. The pension barely covers the rent and food. Shes scraping by.
Mabels brow furrowed.
Then she should move back into her flat.
Its already reregistered to Sophie. She wont let Mum back in. She says theyre planning renovations and Mum would be in the way.
Mabel sensed where the conversation was heading. She waited, and Maxwell seemed to read her thoughts.
We should take Mum in. We have a spare room; theres enough space.
His words echoed in Mabels mind: the spare room was hers, the flat was hers. Yet she stayed mute, letting her husband persuade himself, while inside every thought rebelled. What could she say? That she didnt want to welcome a mother she had just driven out? That would be cruel.
Four days later Eleanor moved in. The first day she was like a daisywhite dandeliongentle, quiet, grateful. She kept apologising, promising not to cause trouble.
Mabel tried to convince herself that everything would be fine. They had never quarreled with Eleanor before; why start now?
But after a week the atmosphere began to shift.
First, Mabels favourite blue mug with tiny roses vanished.
Eleanor, have you seen my mug? Mabel asked.
Eleanors eyes widened.
Oh dear, Im sorry. I dropped it while washing the dishes. Ill buy you a new one, I promise.
Mabel nodded, trying to brush it off.
The next day the expensive handcream Mabel bought from the boutique disappeared from the bathroom.
Eleanor, have you seen my cream?
Eleanor held up an empty jar. I used it on my feet. The air is so dry; my skin was flaking. Its a good cream, really.
Mabel clenched her teeth, thinking she would just replace it.
The final straw was the meat. Mabel had bought a pricey fillet for steaks. When she came home from work she found a pan on the stove with greasy burger patties, the mince mixed with more breadcrumbs than meat.
Eleanor, Mabel said as calmly as she could, this is an expensive cut. It isnt for burgers.
Eleanor turned from the stove.
I always do it like this. The patties are wonderful, why not try?
Maxwell, lounging in the living room, pretended not to hear.
Weeks passed, and Eleanor imposed her own order on the flat. Breakfast became only porridge and boiled eggs. She scheduled a thorough housecleaning every Saturday at eight a.m., and insisted nobody was allowed to stay up past nine, even on weekends.
Mabel paced the rooms, barely containing her anger. Maxwell tried to soothe her, promising to speak to his mother, but nothing changed.
At dinner Mabel spread cottage cheese on a slice of bread, added a tomato round. She was tired, didnt feel like cooking.
Your taste in food is terrible, Mabel, Eleanor snapped.
Mabel lifted her head slowly.
Its fine for me.
Youre corrupting my son with your habits, Eleanor snapped louder, the words gathering momentum. Max looks at you and thinks its okay to be lazy, to leave dishes undone, to wear wrinkled clothes. I raised him differently. I taught him order, neatness. You erase all my efforts.
Mabels patience snapped.
I have endured enough, she said coldly. I tried to respect your age, to stay silent while you broke my things, used my cosmetics, ruined my food. But Im done. If its this bad, go back to the flat you gave to your daughter. Dont live in this house I bought with my own money.
Mabel! Maxwell leapt up. What are you saying?
What I think! Mabel turned to him. I have my own rules too, and the first is: your mother will not be in my house!
Eleanors face went pale.
Max! Do you hear what your wife is saying? Stop her!
Mom, Mabel, lets calm down, Maxwell pleaded.
No! Mabel stared at Eleanor. She can pack and leave. I dont care where.
We cant throw my mother out! Maxwell shouted. Do you understand what youre saying?
Mabels laugh came out hoarse, bitter.
You cant, but I can. By evening, she wont be here.
Maxwell straightened, his expression turning to stone.
If she leaves, Ill go too.
Mabel locked eyes with him for a long moment.
Oh, have we sunk to ultimatums now? You forgot the promise to calm your mother down, to give it a little time, and now youre setting conditions? Brilliant, Maxwelllay the red carpet.
Eleanor burst into tears and fled down the hallway. Maxwell stood in the kitchen, stunned by the chaos.
They began to pack, slowly, in silence. Mabel didnt help; she sat by the window, watching a void that felt cold, strange, yet somehow soothing.
An hour later Maxwell and Eleanor emerged into the hallway, surrounded by suitcases, bags, boxes. Maxwell opened the front door, letting his mother step out first, then turned to Mabel.
Mabel, lets
Mabel cut him off.
If you still dont get itthat mother loves only her daughter and uses youbetter we part now, before she seeps completely into our skin.
She shut the door in his face.
Inviting Eleanor in had been a mistake, but now Mabel saw the truth: Maxwell could not stand up to his mother, and their marriage had no future. The divorce was quiet; there were no children, no joint assets. Maxwell looked at her with sorrowful eyes, begging forgiveness, promising never to drag his mother into their marriage again. Mabel, however, had long stopped giving second chances.
