Dont touch those boxes! Emily snatches an old photo album from Jamess hands. Ill sort it out myself.
James raises an eyebrow.
Emily, whats wrong? I was just trying to help with the move.
Help? she presses the album to her chest. You threw away my postcard collection yesterday, called it junk!
But theyve been gathering dust on the attic shelves for twenty years!
Theyre memories! Memories of my grandmother!
James sighs, drops onto the sofa amid the chaos of boxes and bags. They are shifting into a new twobedroom flat in a council block on the edge of Birmingham. After five years of renting they finally secure a mortgage. The place is modest, but its theirs.
Sorry, he says quietly. I didnt realise the cards meant so much.
Emilys expression softens and she sits beside him.
Im just exhausted. All day Ive been packing, and tomorrow I have work.
Maybe you could take a day off?
I cant. Its the endofquarter crunch.
James wraps an arm around his wife, and she leans into his shoulder. Five years of marriage have taught them to smooth over arguments quickly, though lately fights flare up more often. The main cause is Margaret Jamess mother.
Margaret lives in the flat next door in the same block. When James suggested buying the flat here, Emily was initially pleased the area is familiar and the commute is easy. But learning that Margaret would be a neighbour makes her uneasy.
James, should we look elsewhere?
Whats wrong with this one? Its perfect, and Mum will be close.
Thats exactly why Im nervous.
Emily, why are you being so dramatic? Mums lovely, you know that.
Emily knows. Margaret is a decent woman. She teaches primary school and raised James alone after his parents split. Her one flaw is that she treats her son as the centre of the universe and feels jealous of anyone who shares his attention, even his wife.
For the first few years of their marriage Margaret kept her distance, living in a different borough and visiting once a week. A year ago she sold her house and bought a onebedroom flat in the same block, saying she wanted to be nearer to James.
Since then her visits have multiplied. She can appear in the morning with a cake, at lunchtime with advice, and in the evening with complaints. Emily tolerates it, aware that her motherinlaw is lonely.
Alright, Ill put the kettle on, Emily says, getting up from the sofa.
A knock sounds at the door. She opens it to find Margaret holding a pot.
Hello, love! I brought you some borscht. I know youre too busy to cook with the move.
Thanks, Margaret, Emily takes the pot. Come in.
Margaret steps inside, eyes scanning the sea of boxes.
Oh my, what a mess! Why do you have so many things?
These arent junk, Emily snaps. Theyre ours.
No offence, dear. Its just that young couples today hoard everything. In my day we made do with the bare minimum.
James emerges, embraces his mother.
Thanks for the borscht, Mum! Were starving.
Youre welcome, love, Margaret beams. James, youve put on weight! Emily, arent you feeding him?
Im feeding him, Emily replies flatly. He barely has time to eat; hes stuck at work.
Work is work, but lunch should be on schedule! James, you need proper nutrition!
Dont worry, Mum, everythings fine.
They sit at the kitchen table; Emily reheats the borscht and slices bread. Margaret scrutinises the spread.
Emily, why isnt the bread fresh?
I bought it yesterday. I didnt have time to shop today.
Stale bread isnt good for you. You should buy fresh each day.
Were adults, well decide what to eat.
Sorry for meddling, love! I just want James to be well.
James, she takes care of me, he says. Emily looks after me beautifully.
Margaret nods, though she doesnt look convinced.
After dinner Margaret stands.
Ill be off now. Ill come back tomorrow to help unpack.
Thanks, but well manage, Emily replies briskly.
What do you mean manage? I want to help!
We really can do it ourselves, Mum, James says, supporting his wife. You have school tomorrow.
Ill pop over after school. Ill be there at three.
She leaves. Emily collapses into a chair, exhausted.
James, is she really going to be here every day?
Not every day, just while were moving. She wants to help.
Your mum always wants to help, even when it isnt needed.
Emily, dont start. Shes trying.
I know, Im just fed up with the constant scrutiny.
The next day Emily takes a halfday off to keep unpacking. At three oclock Margaret arrives as promised.
Oh dear, youve got the dishes wrong! she exclaims, spotting the plates. The plates belong in the upper cupboard, the pots down low! Its common sense!
Its more convenient for me this way, Emily says wearily.
Convenient? You just dont know how to organise!
Margaret begins rearranging the kitchenware. Emily clenches her teeth, counting to ten.
Please leave it as it is. This is my kitchen.
Your kitchen? Where will James cook?
He doesnt cook.
Because you never taught him! I tried to get him to help, and you spoiled him!
My? Spoiled? Youre the one whos spoiled him! He couldnt even fry an egg before we married!
Youre out of line! Margaret snaps, waving her hands. Im not your friend!
Sorry, Emily murmurs. Just please stop moving my stuff.
Margaret huffs but stops, moving to the living room to criticise the furniture.
The sofa should be against the other wall! And the wardrobe needs shifting! Why keep that old chest of drawers?
Its my grandmothers chest, Emily says firmly. It stays.
Grandmother! Youre always glued to your grandmas belongings! Throw the old stuff away!
Emily slips out of the room, locks herself in the bathroom, and looks at herself in the mirror. Dark circles frame her tired eyes; the move and the motherinlaw are wearing her down.
Evening arrives and James comes home, exhausted but smiling.
Hows it going? Got a lot done?
A bit. Your mum dropped by.
And?
Same as always. She criticised everything and rearranged the kitchen.
James sighs. Hang in there. Shell get used to staying out of our way.
I dont see how. Shes lived next door for a year now.
I cant just send my mum away.
Im not asking you to. Just talk to her, tell her were adults.
Ill try.
The talks dont help. Margaret continues to appear almost daily, bringing soup, offering to wash laundry, or just stopping by for a chat, always with a comment about dust, food, or Jamess attire.
Emily endures, knowing Margaret is lonely and that Jamess mother is everything to him. But her patience thins.
The climax hits on Saturday. Emily wakes with a throbbing headache after a grueling workday and a morning of cleaning. James is away on a threeday business trip.
She lies in bed, a painkiller doing nothing. A knock sounds. She drags herself to the door.
Margaret stands there, pot in hand.
Emily, Ive made some cabbage soup. James isnt home?
Hes on a trip.
Ill leave it for you.
Margaret sets the pot on the stove. Emily leans against the wall, dizzy.
Whats wrong with you? You look pale.
My head hurts. I need to lie down.
Headache? Must be from being idle all day!
I work, Margaret. Five days a week.
Work? Sitting all day isnt work! Im on my feet all day teaching!
Emily says nothing and retreats to the bedroom, pulling the blanket over herself. Margaret roams the flat, tidying up, then enters the bedroom.
Ill tidy up while you rest.
No, Ill handle it later.
Dont be daft! Theres dust on the nightstand!
Margaret wipes the dust, moves things, while Emily closes her eyes, trying to block it out.
Margaret eventually leaves, but the thin walls of the council block let Emily hear her on the phone.
Linda? Its me, Margaret. Yes, Im at the house. James and his wife just had a bit of a row. Shes lying in bed with a headache on a Saturday.
Emily watches, listening to Margarets friends laughter.
Can you believe it? She cant even cook properly! Shell never learn. Im thinking of finding someone better for James. Theres that doctor, Marina, still single
Emilys fists clench. The words cut deep.
She slams the wall with her fist.
Margaret! I hear everything!
Silence follows, then a faint voice: Ill call you back later.
Emily sits on the bed, trembling with rage. She picks up the phone, dials James.
Hey, love. How are you?
Fine, she says, voice shaking. Your mum
Is everything okay?
Shes been insulting me, saying Im that word.
Emily, she was probably just upset.
Calm? She said it calmly! She called me a …
James tries to calm her down. Ill come home, well talk to her.
I dont want you to come. Ill handle it myself.
Dont do anything foolish.
Dont worry. I wont let her in again.
Emily, you cant bar my mother from the flat!
I can and I will. Its my home too.
Emily!
Enough. Ive heard enough.
James hangs up, stunned.
Later that night Margaret bangs on the door, shouting.
Emily, open up! I need to speak with you!
Emily stays silent.
Come on, I know youre in there! Open the door!
No, go away, Margaret!
Dont be stubborn! Ill break the lock!
Emily grabs a chain and loops it over the door, holding it tight.
The lock clicks, the door cracks a few centimetres, then the chain blocks it.
Take the chain off!
Its my flat as well! You have no right to force yourself in!
Margaret huffs, then, out of breath, says, Im sorry, I overreacted. I didnt mean to hurt you.
Youve hurt me countless times. You constantly criticize, belittle, and undermine me.
I was only trying to help!
I dont need that kind of help. Leave, please.
I came for James! Hes not here!
Hes away on business.
Ill wait then!
No, you wont. Either you leave now, or Ill call the police.
You wont dare!
Youre trying to force yourself in against my will.
Margaret storms out, but keeps pounding on the door, yelling insults.
Emily steps away, sits on the sofa, pulls out her phone, and records the scene.
After a few minutes Margaret, frustrated, finally retreats. Emily exhales, feeling victorious.
James calls later.
Your mum called. Shes crying, says you wont let her in.
I didnt let her in.
Shes my mother, Emily!
Im your wife. She called me a … in front of the whole block.
Its not its caring!
Listen to the recording.
James hears Margarets angry shouts, realizes the truth, and sighs.
Okay, Ill come back, well sort this out.
The next day Emily hires a locksmith and changes the locks. Margarets keys no longer work.
Margaret continues to call and knock, begging for entry, but Emily never opens.
Neighbours start asking whats happening. Emily gives a brief explanation: family disagreement.
James returns from his trip on Monday evening. Emily greets him calmly.
Hey.
Hey. Mums waiting for me. Ill go see her, then we can talk.
He heads out, returns two hours later, looking grim.
Mum had a fit. She says you insulted her.
I? She insulted me!
Emily, shes old. You have to be patient.
Shes fiftyseven! Shes younger than my own mum!
Still, shes my mother.
And Im your wife! Does that matter?
James sits, runs his hand through his hair.
Lets find a compromise. Shell try not to criticize, and youll let her visit occasionally.
Emily shakes her head.
Why would she change? Shell smile to my face and trash me behind my back.
James sighs. Maybe Im being naive.
He goes to bed, both of them restless.
The next morning over breakfast James raises the issue again.
This cant go on. We live next to each other.
Emily replies, Then she lives next to her own flat, and we live in ours.
But she wants to see us!
Let her see me. She can visit you.
And the holidays? Christmas is coming.
Well celebrate just the two of us.
Youre giving me an ultimatumeither your mum or me?
Emily meets his gaze. No ultimatum. Im setting boundaries. Your mother will not enter my flat unless I invite her. If thats unacceptable, you decide what you want.
James stands, grabs his coat, and leaves for work, slamming the door behind him.
He doesnt come back that night. He calls to say hell stay at his mums.
A week passes. James lives with Margaret, turning up only to collect his things. Emily carries on with her life, feeling lighter.
At work a colleague, Marina, notices the change.
You look brighter, Emily. Did something happen?
I finally got some sleep. No more earlymorning door knocks.
What about James?
Hes at his mums.
Serious? What sparked the fight?
Emily shares a brief version. Marina nods.
You did right. I fought with my motherinlaw for ten years before we divorced.
Divorcing isnt my plan. I love James.
Does he love you? He seems to be siding with his mum.
Emily cant answer.
Saturday morning the doorbell rings. James stands there, alone, without his mother.
Can I come in?
Of course. Youre registered here.
He sits at the kitchen table, looking weary and unshaven.
Lets talk calmly, no emotions.
Okay.
Ive spent a week at my mums. Ive realized a few things.
And?
That shes too intrusive, constantly criticising me behind my back.
Finally.
But shes my mother. I cant just cast her out.
Im not asking you to. Just live separately.
She doesnt get that. She thinks family should be together.
Shes from another generation. Living with a motherinlaw isnt common now.
I know, but I cant change her.
Silence settles. Emily pours tea.
What do you want, honestly?
I want to live with you, but I dont want to hurt my mum.
Can she hurt me?
No, youre not hurt. Its just she keeps doing it.
Youve let it happen for a year.
James lowers his head.
I was blind. I thought youd sort it out yourselves.
Weve sorted it. I wont let her in until she apologises sincerely.
She wont apologise. She thinks shes right.
Then I wont let her in.
James stands, embraces Emily.
Sorry I was weak. I should have defended you.
Better late than never.
He promises to return home. He tells Margaret that this is his family now, and if she wants to be involved, she must respect Emily.
Margaret throws a fit, but James stands firm.
Mom, this is my marriage. If you want to see me, you must treat my wife with respect.
Fine, Ill apologise, she mutters, reluctantly.
A month later Margaret stops dropping by unannounced. She calls to ask if she can come over for tea. Emily agrees, on the condition theres no criticism or unsolicited advice.
Margaret arrives with a Victoria sponge, sits quietly, sips tea, and leaves after an hour, thanking Emily.
James asks later, Do you think shell stay changed?
I think shell try. Shes only visiting when invited now, no more meddling.
Emily realizes that setting firm boundaries forces respect. Her home feels like a sanctuary again, and the former adversary has become a polite neighbour.
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