We just want some peace, not your constant advice, said the son, glancing at his wife.
Emily, wheres your mum today? asked Margaret, peering at her young daughter-in-law through thick glasses. She promised shed come help with the salads.
Shes busy, Emily replied shortly, still chopping cucumbers. Got held up at work.
Work again, Margaret sighed, shaking her head. And what about family? When are you two going to give me grandchildren? Youre not kids anymoreboth in your thirties.
Emily clenched the knife tighter but said nothing. The sound of the TV flickering on came from the living roomAndrew had returned from the garden, where hed spent the day digging.
Andrew, love! Margaret called. Come help us set the table.
In a minute, Mum, he answered but didnt move.
Margaret sighed and started pulling out the good china. Tomorrow, her sister and brother-in-law were coming up from Bristol for a big family lunch.
Emily, did you wash those tomatoes properly? she asked, peering into the bowl. Ive got a sensitive stomach, you know.
Yes, Margaret, Emily answered evenly.
And youre slicing those cucumbers too thin. Men like them thicker, heartier. Andrews always been that wayif its a salad, it should fill you up.
Emily stopped and looked at her mother-in-law.
Maybe youd like to chop them yourself, then?
Oh, dont be silly, dear, Margaret waved her hands. Im only helping. Forty years of cookingIve got experience. Youre still learning.
Andrew shuffled in, wearing his old slippers and a faded T-shirt. His hair was messy, dirt smudged on his cheek.
Hows it going, ladies? he grinned. Cooking up a storm?
We are, we are, his mother nodded. But you could wash up and change. Look at the state of you!
Mum, Im at home, Andrew grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Just unwinding after work.
You should still take pride, even at home. Your wifes watchingwhat must she think of the man she married?
Emily spun around.
Margaret, I love my husband just as he is. In work clothes, in pyjamasdoesnt matter.
Of course, of course, Margaret agreed. But love is one thing, manners are another. Next door, Sarahs son-in-law is always smart as a pin. Home or work, never a hair out of place.
And what does Sarahs son-in-law do for work? Andrew asked, finishing his water.
Some sort of manager. Sits in an office, doesnt get his hands dirty.
I work on a construction site, Mum. Cant exactly wear a suit.
Well, fine. But once youre home, you could tidy yourself up.
Andrew waved her off and left. Emily kept chopping, ignoring Margarets pointed looks.
Oh, another thing, Margaret perched on a stool. You two have the telly on far too loud in the evenings. Im right next doorcant get a wink of sleep.
We dont have it loud, Emily said.
You do. And you talk too loud. Last night, I was up till midnight.
Emilys face flushed. Last night, she and Andrew *had* talked latebut it was private. The TV had just been background noise to cover their voices.
Margaret, maybe we could get you some earplugs? she suggested. The pharmacy sells good ones.
Earplugs? In my own home? Margaret huffed. You should be more considerate, thats all.
Andrew walked back in, now in a clean shirt.
Whats going on? he asked, eyeing the tension.
Just reminding Emily to keep it down at night, Margaret said. Couldnt sleep for all the noise.
What noise? Andrew frowned.
Your telly, your chatting. Up till midnight.
Andrew and Emily exchanged a glance. She turned towards the window.
Mum, we try to be quiet, he said carefully.
Try harder, then. I shouldnt have to lose sleep in my own house.
Margaret, Emily cut in, maybe we should move out? Rent somewhere, so we dont bother you.
Margarets mouth fell open.
Move out? Wholl help me, then? Im not as young as I wasthis house is too much alone. The neighbours are too far to hear if something happens. She clutched her chest. No, no. Were familywe stay together.
Then there shouldnt be complaints, Emily said firmly. Family respects each other.
Of course I respect you! Im just sharing what I know.
Andrew sighed and sat down.
Mum, enough advice for today, yeah? Emilys had a long day.
What did I even say? Margaret blinked. Just normal things. Passing on wisdom.
Were not interested in your wisdom, Emily snapped. Well figure things out ourselves.
Margaret pursed her lips.
Oh, I see. So Im unwanted in my own home. Forty years here, and now Im in the way.
No one said that, Emily softened her tone. But every couple needs space.
Space! Margaret scoffed. And who does your washing, your cooking, your cleaning? Is that space too?
We never asked you to, Emily said. We can manage.
Oh, can you? When youre both out working all hours? Im retiredI *thought* I was helping.
Andrew stood and walked to the window. Dusk was settling, streetlights flickering on.
Listen, he said without turning. Lets sort this properly. Mum, we appreciate your help. But sometimes, we just want to be usno comments, no interference.
So I should lock myself away? Margaret asked.
No, of course not. Talk to us, spend time with us. But our private life stays private.
And whats private? Id love to know.
Emily set down the knife.
Margaret, how can you not see it? Were husband and wife. We have our own life, our own plans.
What plans? You live *here*, not on some desert island!
Exactlyhere, in *our* marriage, Andrew said. Youre part of the family, Mum, but not our little unit.
Margaret gasped.
Well! So Im not family now? My own son!
Youre twisting it, Emily said.
Oh, I understand perfectly! Pushing me out of my own home! Forty years here, and now Im a burden!
Mum, stop, Andrew rubbed his temples. No ones pushing you out.
Then what? I cant even speak in my own house?
You can, Emily said. But not about *everything*. Not how we talk, what we wear, when we have kids.
And Im *forcing* you to have kids, am I? Just asking! Id like grandkids!
Youll get them when were ready, Andrew said.
And whens that? Youre not getting any younger!
See? Emily threw up her hands. More advice, more pressure.
Margaret sniffed.
Advice, pressure In my day, we respected our elders. Listened to experience.
In your day, people lived three to a room, Emily said. Times change.
Changed, all right, Margaret muttered. For what? Divorces, loneliness. Next door, Sarahs son moved outnow shes alone, and hes divorced!
Mum, Emily and I arent divorcing, Andrew said. We just want a normal life.
And whats *not* normal here?
Andrew looked at Emily, then his mother.
Not being able to talk at night without it being dissected. Every step judged. Emily tiptoeing around in her own home.
Tiptoeing? Margaret blinked. Why?
Because of your comments, Emily said flatly. You always find fault.
Im *helping*!
We dont need your help, Andrew said. We want privacy, not pointers. He looked at Emily. We just want to be left alone.
Margaret stood as if struck.
Left alone? Forty years a mother, and now Im a nuisance!
Mum, dont Andrew reached for her, but she slapped his hand away.
No! If my advice isnt wanted, then *Im* not wanted!
She stormed out, slamming the door. The room was silent.
Well, Emily exhaled. Thats her sulking for a week.
What else could we do? Andrew ran a hand through his hair. Just take it forever?
From Margarets room, the TV blaredloud, deliberate.
Maybe we *should* move, Emily whispered.
And leave her alone? Shes seventy, her healths not great.
So we keep enduring?
Andrew pulled her close.
I dont know. Maybe shell adjust, understand
Emily leaned into him.
I just want us to be happy. Without interference.
Me too.
They stood there, holding each other, while the TV next door played onMargarets not-so-subtle protest.
Tell you what, Andrew said suddenly. Tomorrow, after lunch, well go see an estate agent. See whats out there.
But your mum
Let her live alone for a bit. Maybe shell realise were her family, not her staff.
Itll be hard for her
Well visit every day. Help where we can. But we need our own space.
Emily nodded. For the first time in ages, she felt lighter.
Just dont tell her yet, she said. Let her cool off.
Course.
They finished the salad in silence, both lost in thought. Emily imagined a little flatjust the two of them. No eavesdropping, no criticism. Just life, on their terms.
Andrew thought of his mum. Would she ever accept it? Or would she see it as betrayal?
Next door, the TV snapped off. Margaret was going to bed. Tomorrow, she might pretend nothing happened. Or she might stew.
Either way, their minds were made up.
Emily pictured tomorrowthe guests, the polite chatter. Then, afterwards, flat-hunting. Their future, their freedom.
At last, theyd live how *they* wanted. Not how Margaret thought they should.
