The tension in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“We want privacy, not your advice,” the son said sharply, his eyes locking onto his wifes.
“Emma, wheres your mum today?” asked Margaret Wilkins, peering over her thick glasses at her young daughter-in-law. “She promised to come help with the salads.”
“Shes busy,” Emma replied tersely, slicing cucumbers with deliberate strokes. “Got held up at work.”
“Again?” Margaret sighed, shaking her head. “And what about family? When are you two going to give me grandchildren? Youre not children yourselvesboth in your thirties now.”
Emmas grip on the knife tightened, but she stayed silent. The sudden blare of the telly in the lounge announced Daniels return from the allotment, where hed spent the day digging.
“Daniel, love!” Margaret called. “Come help us set the table.”
“In a minute, Mum,” he answered, but didnt move from the sofa.
Margaret exhaled sharply and began pulling out the good china. Tomorrow, her sister and brother-in-law were coming from Manchestera proper family dinner, no less.
“Emma, did you wash those tomatoes properly?” Margaret leaned over the bowl, inspecting. “You know my stomachs delicate. One wrong thing and Im laid up.”
“Theyre washed, Margaret,” Emma said evenly.
“And those cucumbersyoure slicing them too thin. Men like proper portions. Daniels always been that wayif its a salad, he wants to feel full.”
Emma paused and met her mother-in-laws gaze.
“Maybe you should slice them yourself, then?”
“Oh, dont be silly, dear.” Margaret waved a hand. “Im only trying to help. Forty years running a household, I know a thing or two. Youre still youngyouve got to learn.”
Daniel shuffled in, wearing worn slippers and a faded T-shirt, his hair tousled, dirt smudged on his cheek.
“Hows it going, ladies?” He grinned. “Preparing a feast for the ages?”
“Trying to,” Margaret huffed. “You could at least wash up and change. Look at the state of you.”
“Mum, Im at home,” Daniel said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Just unwinding after work.”
“Home doesnt mean slobbing about. Your wifes watchingwondering what kind of man she married.”
Emma spun around, her voice sharp.
“Margaret, I love my husband exactly as he is. Work clothes, pyjamasit doesnt matter.”
“Of course, of course,” Margaret conceded. “But loves one thing, standards are another. Mrs. Thompsons son-in-law? Always smart as a whip. Even at home.”
“And what does Mrs. Thompsons son-in-law do?” Daniel asked, sipping his water.
“Some office manager. Doesnt get his hands dirty.”
“I work construction, Mum. Cant exactly wear a suit.”
“Fair enough. But once youre home, theres no excuse for looking like a tramp.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and left. Emma kept chopping, ignoring the weight of Margarets stare.
“One more thing,” Margaret said, perching on a stool. “You two have the telly on far too loud in the evenings. My rooms right next doorI cant sleep.”
“We dont have it loud,” Emma countered.
“You do. And you talk too. Last night, I was awake till midnight.”
Emmas face burned. Last night had been private. The telly had been on to muffle their voices.
“Margaret, maybe you could try earplugs? They sell them at Boots.”
“Earplugs? In my own home?” Margaret scoffed. “Its you who should be more considerate.”
Daniel reappeared, now in a clean shirt.
“Whats going on?” His eyes darted between them.
“Just explaining to Emma that you need to keep the noise down,” Margaret sniffed. “I couldnt sleep last night.”
“What noise?” Daniel frowned.
“Your telly, your talking. Midnight, it was.”
Daniel and Emma exchanged a glance. She turned away, staring out the window.
“Mum, we try to be quiet,” he said carefully.
“Well, try harder. A woman deserves peace in her own home.”
“Margaret,” Emma cut in, “maybe we should move out? Rent a flat, so we dont disturb you.”
Margarets mouth fell open.
“Move out? And wholl help me? Im not getting any younger. This house is too much for me alone.”
“Well visit,” Daniel said. “Help with whatever you need.”
“Visit!” Margaret threw up her hands. “What if I fall ill? What if something happens? The neighbours wont hear a thing! No, absolutely not. Were familywe stay together.”
“Then there shouldnt be complaints,” Emma said firmly. “Family respects each other.”
“Of course I respect you! Im only sharing my wisdom.”
Daniel sighed and sat at the table.
“Mum, enough advice for one day, yeah? Emmas exhausted.”
“What did I say that was so wrong?” Margaret blinked. “Just common sense.”
“Were not interested in your common sense,” Emma snapped. “We can manage our own lives.”
Margarets lips pursed.
“So thats it. Im unwanted in my own home. Forty years here, and now Im in the way.”
“No one said that,” Emma softened her tone. “But everyone deserves their own space.”
“Space!” Margaret snorted. “Who does your laundry? Cooks? Cleans? Thats not spacethats me keeping this house running!”
“We never asked you to,” Emma shot back. “We can manage.”
“Oh, can you? Between your jobs? Im retiredIve got the time. Thought I was helping.”
Daniel stood and walked to the window. Outside, the streetlights flickered on.
“Listen,” he said without turning. “Lets settle this. Mum, we appreciate your help. But sometimes we just want to be aloneno comments, no interference.”
“So Im to sit silently in my room?” Margaret demanded.
“No,” Daniel faced her. “Talk, spend time with us. But stay out of our private lives.”
“And whats private?”
Emma set down the knife.
“Margaret, were husband and wife. We have our own life, our own plans.”
“What plans? You live under my roofthis isnt some bachelor pad!”
“Its our marriage,” Daniel said. “Youre part of the family, but not part of *us*.”
Margaret gasped.
“So thats it! My own son says Im not family!”
“Thats not what he meant,” Emma began, but Margaret cut her off.
“I understand perfectly! Kicking me out of my own home! Forty years here, and now Im a burden!”
“Mum, stop,” Daniel said wearily. “No ones kicking you out.”
“Then what? Ive no right to speak in my own house?”
“You do,” Emma said. “But not about everything. Not how we talk, dress, or when we have children.”
“Children! Im not forcing youjust asking. I want grandchildren.”
“Youll have them when were ready,” Daniel said.
“And whens that? Youre not getting any younger!”
“See?” Emma threw up her hands. “More advice, more pressure.”
Margaret sniffed.
“Back in my day, elders were respected. Their wisdom mattered.”
“Times change,” Emma said.
“Oh, theyve changed alright,” Margaret sneered. “Divorces, loneliness. Mrs. Carters son moved outnow shes alone, and hes divorced!”
“Mum, Emma and I arent divorcing,” Daniel said. “We just want to breathe.”
“And whats suffocating you?”
Daniel looked at Emma, then his mother.
“That we cant talk at night. That every move we make is judged. That Emmas afraid to leave our room.”
“Afraid?” Margarets brow furrowed. “Of what?”
“Your comments,” Emma said bluntly.
“Im not criticising! Im guiding!”
“We dont need guiding,” Daniel said flatly. “We want privacy, not your advice.”
Margaret staggered back as if struck.
“My advice isnt wanted?” Her voice trembled. “Forty years a mother, and Im obsolete?”
“Mum, dont” Daniel reached for her, but she swatted him away.
“No! If you dont need me, then I dont exist!”
She stormed out, slamming the door. The silence that followed was deafening.
“Well,” Emma sighed. “Thats a week-long sulk guaranteed.”
“What choice do we have?” Daniel rubbed his temples. “Live like this forever?”
From Margarets room, the telly blareda pointed, angry volume.
“Maybe we should move,” Emma whispered.
“And leave her alone? Shes seventy, her healths not great.”
“So we endure?”
Daniel pulled Emma close.
“I dont know. Maybe shell adjust understand.”
Emma buried her face in his chest.
“I just want us to be happy. Without interference.”
“Me too.”
They clung to each other as the telly roared next doorMargarets loud, wounded protest.
“You know what?” Daniel said suddenly. “Tomorrow, after lunch, well see an estate agent. See whats out there.”
“And your mum?”
“Let her live alone for a bit. Maybe shell realise were her children, not her staff.”
Emma nodded, relief flooding her.
“But dont tell her yet. Let her cool off.”
“Agreed.”
They finished the salad in silence, lost in thought. Emma imagined a small flatjust them. No eavesdropping. No judgement. Freedom.
Daniel thought of his mother. Would she ever understand? Or would she see them as ungrateful?
The telly next door clicked off. Margaret was going to bed. Tomorrow, shed either pretend nothing happened or double down.
But it didnt matter. Their decision was made.
Emma pictured tomorrowthe guests, the strained smiles, the act. Then, later, flat-hunting. Their future. Their escape.
At last, theyd live as they chose. Not as Margaret dictated.
