And what good does that do you?
Is Vera expecting a baby? Angela asked, setting aside the halfread novel with a puzzled tilt of her eyebrows.
Michael gave a slow nod, eyes fixed on nothing. His fingers twitched at the hem of his Tshirta nervous habit hed carried since childhood.
But you said youd first get a mortgage on a flat before thinking about children, Angela pressed, watching her sons expression for any clue. You always said you needed to get on your feet first.
Michael shrugged, spreading his arms as if apologising for some unseen mishap. He answered wearily:
It just happened. We didnt see it coming, honestly.
Angela inhaled deeply. The news was anything but welcome. The young couple were barely making ends meet. They rented a cramped studio in a rundown block. Blythes work was irregular, and Michaels salary was modest. Children? she thought, a cold knot forming in her chest.
Mum, Michael moved closer, his voice dropping, youre still letting out that onebed flat you inherited from Granddad. Maybe Blythe and I could move in there for a while?
He spoke quickly, as if afraid the words would be swallowed.
I know I refused to move in myself! But everythings changed. We need to save money now, not burn it on rent. At least well have a safety net when the baby arrives.
Angela felt something tighten in her throat. That flat was her only extra income after she retired. The repairs on her own house, the medicines, the trip to her sister in Bristolall of it depended on the rent from the inherited flat.
Sensing his mothers unease, Michael added hastily:
I get this is a big decision, Mum. Your life will change. But were in a desperate spot. Blythe wont be able to work much longer.
Fine, Angela said finally, fighting her conflicting thoughts. But Im making it clear: I wont transfer ownership of the flat. It stays mine.
Michaels hands shot up in a defensive gesture.
Come on, Mum! Were not trying to take it from you. Thank you so much!
He hugged her briefly and fled, fearing she might change her mind. Angela remained seated, the weight of the situation pressing down. She needed to figure out a way to make it work without hurting anyone.
A week later she spoke with the current tenants. They werent thrilled, but the lease had ended and they had nowhere else to go. Within a month they moved out, leaving behind stale odors and scuffed wallpaper at the entrance.
Blythe and Michael slipped into the flat silently, without fanfare. Angela helped with the move, bringing homemade preserves, fresh curtains, anything to make the young couple feel welcome. Blythe barely thanked her, muttering something incoherent before retreating to the bathroom.
From Angelas kitchen window she could see the neighbours kitchen across the lane. Michael would pop in now and thensometimes for salt, sometimes just to chat. Blythe, however, never visited in the seven months that followed. No tea, no casual catchup; it was as if she were deliberately avoiding her motherinlaw.
Then the joyous news arrived: a grandson had been borna robust little boy, almost four pounds. Angela, unable to conceal her delight, visited the new family with diapers, tiny onesies, and handknit socks.
She took a lingering look at Blythe, whose eyes were rimmed with dark circles, her hands trembling from sleeplessness.
Need any help? I can watch the baby while you rest.
Blythe clutched the infant tighter, cutting her off sharply:
No. Well manage.
Angela didnt press the issue; help forced upon someone never sticks.
Two months later she spotted an elderly couple peering out of the flats windowsBlythes parents, she realised.
Probably just here to visit, she thought, turning away.
Three days after that, Michael arrived home looking gaunt, shadows under his eyes, his face drawn. Angela poured him a cup of tea, set down a plate of biscuits.
Hows the little one? Already smiling?
Hes growing, Michael managed a strained smile. Hes changing so fast, you know? He even started cooing.
So Blythes parents are staying over? Angela asked casually.
He nodded reluctantly.
Yeah, they came to help with the baby.
But you only have a onebed flat! Where are they all staying?
Michael averted his gaze, stumbling over his words:
Were making do with temporary inconvenience. Theyre really helping Blythe, and that makes things easier for us.
Angela didnt like the answer, but she let it go. She was an adult; Michael would sort it out himself.
When she visited the grandson, Blythes parents watched her from a distance, eyes narrowed as if shed done something wrong. Angela played with little Milo, ignoring their icy stares.
During one visit she noticed an unfolded folding bed in the hallway. Inside the only bedroom lay Blythes parents luggage: suitcases, boxes, shopping bags. The realization hit: theyd taken the bedroom, leaving the young couple to camp out in the kitchen.
Two more weeks passed and the inlaws refused to leave, grinding Angelas nerves. Michael grew paler, constantly rubbing his neck and back. On Friday he dropped onto her couch, exhausted, the final straw.
Angela stormed to Blythes flat. The door opened to reveal Blythes mother, lips pressed into a thin line at the unexpected intrusion.
How long is this going to go on? When are you all moving out? Why should my son suffer like this? Angela demanded, straight from the doorway.
Blythes mother lifted an eyebrow, surprised.
Whats it to you? This is our daughters house! What right do you have to barge in here?
From the kitchen, a sleepylooking Blythe appeared, baby cradled in her arms, eyes darting between motherinlaw and daughterinlaw.
Whats happening? she asked.
Blythes mother snatched the infant and began rocking him demonstratively.
Were not just here for nothing! Were helping with the baby! And youre of no use!
Angela stood firm.
This flat is my property! I wont let you live here any longer. I wont have my son sleeping on a folding bed! Get out!
How dare you! Blythes father burst into the doorway, furious. This is all because of you! You could have let the young couple keep the twobed flat and moved in here yourselves. Everyone would have space!
Angelas temper flared.
Youre all silent! Youll fight this in court, or youve already forgotten? Let me remind you: I paid for the wedding, I gave you the flat. What more do you want?
At that moment Michael returned, frozen on the threshold, bewildered by the chaos.
Your mother is insulting my parents! Blythe snapped, pointing at Angela. Shes trying to evict them!
Either her parents leave, or you all go! Angela shouted. This flat is mine, and I wont tolerate this arrogance!
A heavy silence fell. The baby whimpered, sensing the tension.
Then the room erupted in shouting and tears. Blythe broke down, her mother trying to soothe her, casting angry glances at Angela. Blythes father roared at Michael, gesturing wildly. Angela turned and slammed the door shut behind her.
For two days Angela could think of nothing else. She avoided calls, avoided the house, her heart tearing for her son and grandson. What if they truly moved out? Where would they go? Yet she forced herself not to cower to pity.
On the third day she watched the windows. The inlaws were gone; their belongings vanished. The couple had lugged their things back to the bedroom, the folding bed now perched on a small balcony.
That evening Michael arrived, looking markedly better. The dark circles were gone, his eyes clearer. He sat beside his mother, exhaling a sigh of relief.
They left. Blythes still angry, but shes not talking to me.
Angela asked gently,
Are you still mad at me?
I finally got some sleep, Michael replied, a genuine smile breaking across his face. Sleeping on a folding bed in the kitchen isnt ideal, especially when you hear two people snoring in the same room.
Angela pulled him into a hug. Perhaps some had judged her harshly, but she had protected her son. And let Blythe stew in her anger all she likedthe grandson would now have a proper home to grow up in.
