My Rules
No, Nick, truly, Im so glad you came! Mrs. Irene Barton sat down opposite her son, propped her chin with her tiny fists, and smiled. Ive missed you so much. Go on, love, eat up. Would you like another cutlet?
Nicholas shook his head.
Is it not tasty? his mother asked, concerned, straightening up. Her face, previously relaxed and wrinkling gently, tightened and lengthened, her eyebrows raised. I cooked it just as usual I did tell your father you didnt like pork I told him! Is it the flavour?
Irene was growing flustered; shed awaited Nicholas eagerly, cooking up a feast fit for a regiment, as if she were some field kitchen captain who needed to feed, warm, and comfort her beloved son. And now this embarrassmenther cutlets didnt please him.
No, Mum, please, not that again! Its delicious, honestly! I just cant manage any more.
Nicholas gently placed the forkfar too dainty for his great bear-like handonto the plate and adjusted his napkin, which looked more like a childs handkerchief. It was always odd, how such a small woman produced such a giant of a man. But he took after his father, Michael, a robust and towering fellow who always made little Irene seem girlish by comparison.
It was splendid, as always! Nicholas rose, approached his mother, and patted her shoulders as if laying a warm coat around her. The touch grounded her, made her feel safe. Now, what was it you wanted to discuss? Go on, as Ill have to leave soon. Lucy and I were planning to take Sammy to the shops for new clothes.
Lucy, as Nicholas himself liked to call herusing the old English diminutivewas his wife: organised, respectable, and strikingly beautiful.
Nick first ran into her quite literallyso distracted was he by her beauty that he walked straight into a lamppost, splitting his eyebrow and bleeding profusely. Lucy, startled by the clang that echoed down the street, turned with wide eyes and an open mouth. Nick just stood there, awkwardly rubbing the lamppost for fear hed broken it
They went to the surgery together. Lucysweet, innocent, so young thenkept asking if he felt dizzy, clutching his elbow with concern. What could Nicholas answer? Dizzy, yesand how! With a girl like Lucy at his side, who wouldnt be?
They married not long after. Now they had a son, Sam, Lucy worked as a speech therapist, often receiving pupils at home, which was convenient, allowing her to keep up with household chores. Nicholas left for work each morning, driving Sam to a well-regarded grammar schoolLucy had pulled the necessary strings. In short, they lived well, peacefully, wrapped up in loving cares.
Why didnt Lucy come? Irene asked as she cleared the table, even though she knew Lucy was busy tutoringher private lessons didnt stop for the weekendbut she was merely stalling, shy to ask her son for a favour.
I did say, shes got two pupils today. And Samuel Michael,Nicholas liked using his sons full name as it sounded grand and officialis finishing homework. Now go on, Mum, what is it?
He took the cups from his mothers hands and placed them carefully in the sinkcareful, as if they were glass slippersthen turned Irene to face him, looking straight into her eyes. Mum, youre worrying me now. Is something wrong with Dad? Whys he cooped up in the study all day? Have you taken out a loan, been cheated? Pawned the house, a kidney, and all other organs? Blackmail? Or did my long-lost twin brother, stolen from the hospital, finally turn up?
Nicholas grinned, pleased with his own good humour. The world itself seemed to beam back at him, cheerful as a May morning.
At his mothers gesture, he sat again, patted his round belly, stretched his arms, and knocked his wrist into the kitchen counter. Ah, the flat was tiny, no denying it. Nothing like his and Lucys placethree spacious rooms, a decent-sized kitchen, and a balcony. All thanks to Lucys relations, who had once been rewarded that flat for services to science and later moved to a cottage in the countryside, closer to fresh air, and handed the London flat to Lucy as a gift. Each autumn, theyd post sackfuls of potatoes, beets, odd, knobbly Jerusalem artichokes, and astersastonishing, bushy flowers, as beautiful as the stars themselves. Deliveries always arrived in Uncle Stephens battered old vanStephen being the flats previous owner, who adored Lucy for some reason Nick never grasped, but he respected Stephen, often helping repair the van, wearing shorts decorated with palm trees, simply reveling in life.
So, this is what I wanted to ask Irene breathed deep, hesitated, and pushed a plate of ginger biscuits closer to her son. Do you remember Mrs. Marian Lewis?
Nick tensed just slightly, furrowing his brow.
Of course, Mum! How could I forget? He nodded at last. The ginger biscuits smelled irresistiblehoney, pastry, sweet icing. He couldnt help himself, got up to pour more tea and snatched the biggest one, stamped with Westminster Abbey and Big Ben.
Well Marian has, I mean Mrs. Marian Lewis, shes been referred to your regional hospital for treatment on her eyesshe needs an operation. I dont know the exact diagnosis; it all sounds quite complicated
Nicholas chewed and listened. Did he remember Aunt Marian? Yes. She used to live next door, always helping his mother by minding little Nick while his parents were at work. Mrs. Marian Lewis had, as far as Nick remembered, always worn enormous round spectacles that made her eyes look comically wide, her eyelashes fluttering behind the glass like butterfly wings.
So? he asked, for his mother had fallen silent, fussily brushing crumbs from the tablecloththe sure sign she was nervous.
Well, its just could she stay with you and Lucy while shes receiving treatment? Its so dear to let a flat these days, never mind a hotel. Back and forth from Norwich isnt practical. She just doesnt have the energy anymore I know having a stranger in the house isnt easy, but itd only be for a little while And really, I owe her for bringing you up, for looking after you so much.
Nick stopped chewing, took a long sip of tea, wiped his mouth, and shrugged.
Well Well he muttered. The prospect of Aunt Marian hanging about wasnt what hed had in mindhed have to put aside his palm tree shorts for a start and Lucy wouldnt be able to risk coming into the kitchen at night in her nightdress, looking so beautiful. But needs must. Its no trouble! Of course she can! She helped me oncenow its my turn to help her! Nicholas smiled, feeling himself the very picture of nobilityconsiderate, strong, worthy. Lucy would be so proud. So would his mother. Mrs. Marian deserves to be taken care of in her golden years! he added, beaming at himself.
And outside, the sunlight burst into the window as if forming a halo about his head, sparkling in his mothers happy eyes, dancing golden patches across the walls. The little church bells nearby chimed, pealing so beautifully that his heart sang.
Really? Oh, Nick, Im so happy! Now thats what I call DECENCY! A real act, Nicholas! Im truly blessed you grew up such a kind, gentle boy.
She stroked his head, just as she had in his childhood.
Had Lucy seen it, she would have pulled a face, mimicking her mother-in-laws adoration. She was always gently amused by Irenes worship of her son.
But Lucy wasnt there, so Nick could become once more a sweet little boy, cradled by his mothers praise.
Nicholas relaxed, letting his hands flop onto the table.
But But I should check with Lucy Irene whispered, anxious. Nicholas murmured that Lucy wouldnt mind, then, snuggling against his mothers arm, almost dozed off, so comfortable and content in his goodness. Well, then, Ill go and ring Marian now You can settle the details.
Irene fluttered out of the kitchen. There was the rustle of newspaper from the study as his father busied himself, and Nick, biting his lip, drew out his mobile and called his wife.
Lucy listened, carefully dabbing mascara onto one eye while eyeing the other.
How long for? she finally asked.
Oh about two weeks, it seems. Lucy, we really ought to help She has no place to stay and is having surgery.
Nick, but wont she have a ward? Lucy started, but he cut her off.
She will, of course, but shell need to come back for checkups, after careyou cant expect her to travel, hours each way! Lucy, youre the most hospitable soul, and Mrs. Marian is ever so tidya wonderful old lady. Youll get along, you will
You know Lucy sighed. I dont quite fancy it, truth be told. I recall her at our wedding. She looked at me with such disdainshe doesnt like me, your Aunt Marian.
Not MarianMarian! She does like you! She adores you! Shell help with Sam, too shes very
Sam is sixteen, Nick. What help could she possibly offer him? Lucy said wryly, pursing her lips to paint them before stopping, realising she was unsettled.
Everything, Lucy. All her wisdom. Shes lived a life! Soyou dont mind, then?
Lucy minded, she really did, but didnt want to hurt Nicks feelings.
All right. When is she arriving? she said coolly.
On the other end, there was some conferring, and then Nick told herSunday.
This one? Tomorrow? Lucy glanced about, dismayed at the untidy safety of a normal home. Nothing outsiders should see!
Only she and the family had ever seen it. Students came only to the kitchen-dining room. A large table, lots of lightperfect for lessons. Visitors required a blitz, floors scrubbed, corners shined. Unlike her friends, Lucy was self-conscious about her housekeeping, cringing at a hasty jumper or lopsided towel left hanging. She always hid the imperfections.
That Aunt Marian would wander everywhere! Shed think Lucy was a terrible housekeeper!
Clean floors and a tidy home mean a tidy mind, Lucys mother always said. First thing people notice is order! Lucy, youre a slattern! How could you be so careless! Is it so hard to hang up your blouse or skirt? Youre a girl, after all!
Lucy squeezed her eyes tight, shaking her head as if her mother still stood beside her, while she, poor Lucy, fixated on the floor, silently scolded for being untidyand heaven knows who you take after
Next Sunday, Nick corrected.
Oh, thats not so bad, she sighed. Ill go and let Sam know.
There was time now to dash about, cleaning, dusting, scrubbing, hanging, ironing, polishing everything to a shine.
Sam greeted news of the visiting old lady, who had nursed his father from infancy, with indifference. So what, Mum? We live here, shes just a visitor! he said, watching his mother race around with the hoover. This is our ecosystem. Shes an introduced speciesif she makes it, great; if not, so be it. Shell have to adapt, I reckon.
We arent rooted, Sam, were growing wild! I wont have time through the week to set things straight Ohdont just stand there! Grab the other hoover and help! I wont be embarrassed in front of your friends grandmother! Shell think badly of me! And shell tell Nana Irene everything!
Nana Irene knows all there is about you. She doesnt seem to mind, Sam shrugged and ducked out.
Lucy fairly vibrated with worry, but was distracted when her first pupil, little round-faced Andy, arrived for his lesson. Andy, who stuttered and blushed, worked hard, beaming when Lucy praised him. But all the while, her eyes roamed the room, seeking dust and dullness.
Windows! she cursed inwardly. I havent washed the windows!
Windows should be so clean you forget theyre there! her mothers voice echoed critically. Clean windows mark a good housewife, Lucy! You keep leaving streaks!
Nick turned up at just the right moment to take her mind off the cleaning, chatting all the way to the shops about how kind Aunt Marian was, how shed helped raise him, while Lucy could only nod and sigh.
Dad, enough! Your second mums coming, we get it. Lets close the subject, all right? Sam finally broke in.
Lucy was grateful.
Time flew till the next Sunday, sped up as if someone had pressed the accelerator.
On Saturday, Nick went to fetch Mrs. Marian, while Lucy cancelled her lessons and set herself to frantic preparations.
Sam got a haircut; the dogHarrywas bathed until he squealed; the windows shone, as her mother would demand.
Well be home by three, Lucy love, Nick called. You dont need to fuss, just carry on. Mrs. Marians terribly anxious about disturbing our routine.
Understood. See you at threejust in time for lunch.
Lucy planned to roast a chicken, boil some potatoes, put together a salad roll out the welcome as one should.
Up at seven, she sent Sam off with Harry, and then took herself to the bath for a long, hot, soothing shower, singing softly, just as she used to. She was finishing up, toothbrush in hand, when the front door banged. Nicks voice rumbled through the house, echoed by a thin, apologetic womans, Harry barked with delight, and Sam groaned in the background.
The steamed-up mirror showed Lucy the sorry state in which she was about to greet her guest
And here we are called Nick, nodding to his wife, standing there in her bathrobe, toothbrush poking from her lips while Nick dragged in a garish red suitcase, trailing a rosy-cheeked, flustered Mrs. Marian Lewis. Enthusiastic and effusive, she praised their home and style and declared the whole place utterly charming. But Lucy, aware that she was still in her bathrobe with hair in chaos, with the chicken undercooked and muddy dog prints everywhere, felt exactly what she dreadeda bad hostess. Mrs. Marian pursed her lips, stepping over the rainwater puddles left by Harry and watched Lucy dash off, bare heels flashing.
Heres your room, Nick opened the door. Make yourself at home. Ill sort some breakfast. Just need to get changed.
Mrs. Marian thanked him, closing the door behind her.
Why so early? hissed Lucy from behind the screen. I wasnt expecting you! I wasnt ready! This is not on, Nick, you should have warned me!
Nick, lounging on the bed, watched his wifes reflection in the wardrobe mirror, admiring her figure.
Hmm? he said absentmindedly.
I said, why so early? Lucy was pulling on a dress, fixing her hair. Zip me up, please.
Mrs. Marian had an appointment this morningId forgotten. We left sooner. Thats all, he said, attempting to kiss her but she dodged.
Why the mountain of luggage? she demanded.
Who knows? You women always overpack. Youre traders at heart, he grinned, pleased with his wit.
They sat for breakfast. Lucy fried eggs, Sam, seeing his mother so distracted, sliced bread and cheese.
Mrs. Marian entered last, surveying the kitchen. Theyd left her a seat next to Sam.
Bon appétit. Its so cosy here. Lucy, I do recall giving you a porcelain set with poppies for your wedding No? Or was that someone else?
Lucy shrugged. That set had shattered the day after the wedding. Nick had dropped the box from the fifth stair in this very building. Pieces everywhere.
Nick chewed in silence. He had no recollection of poppies or porcelain.
Mustve been someone else. Lucy clattered cups as she poured everyone coffee.
Lucy, I find it quite draughty here, Mrs. Marian complained. May I take your seat?
Sam looked up in surprise as Lucy shrugged helplessly.
Nick squared his shoulders, every bit the caretaker now.
Lucy, move over. We cant have Mrs. Marian catching a chill before her operation! He half-lifted Lucy as if she weighed nothing, setting her beside himself and settling their guest in the vacated chair.
I did raise Nicholas from a tot, Marian began. Constantly changing his nappies, he was! A tricky child, never ate well. Came right in time, mind. Always a handful.
Lucy choked on her tea as Sam gave a sly grin.
And you, young man, off to your homework. Nick always did his lessons first thinggood for the brain, Marian said, rising and clearing Sams plate, looking pointedly at Lucy. Lucy blushed, contemplating protest but saying nothing.
Sam drained his tea standing and stomped to his room.
After breakfast, Mrs. Marian disappeared to her room, shuffling things about, summoned Nick to help move the television.
You dont have many books, she commented as they saw Sam off to football. Sam should read some classicsDickens, perhaps. Ive brought a selection. Well have a proper look at what your boy knows, Nicholas.
Quite right, Aunt Marian. All football and no Dickensll leave him an ignoramus! Nick winked, handing Sam his kit bag.
He knew full well Marian always toted Dickens everywhere, set the volume beside her in theatre lobbies or café tables, slept with it on the bedside table though, so far as he knew, she hadnt read a word of it. It was all to look erudite. Shed take Dickens to hospital, too, for the nurses to see what calibre of patient they had in their care.
They saw Sam off, Nick left for work.
When are you leaving? Lucy asked Marian.
Me? Oh yes. At one, I believe. Id better get ready. Lucy, does Sam have a girlfriend yet? Nick was trailed by schoolgirls from Year Seven. He even had a girl, Rachel. So easy-going she waslike modelling clay. Did whatever was suggested. Good, isnt it? Oh, and Harry should be kept out of this room, and the shoe rack moved; its blocking the hall. Ill likely knock it over. See, there you are! Marian tripped and sent Lucys shoes and slippers tumbling. And those shoes are bad for your feet Well, thank you for having me, Lucy!
Mrs. Marian patted Lucys shoulder and squeezed into the lift.
Lucy lingered, then shut the door.
Mum, why is she acting like she owns the place? She even chased Harry off the sofa, and hes allowed, isnt he? Sam grumbled returning from training, scratching Harrys head; the dog sighed mournfully.
Shes used to raising people, thats all. Its only for a while, Sam, just bear with it
Lucy felt ashamed in front of her son, and the dog, that shed suddenly lost her authority in her own house. But how could she be rude to the lady who changed her husbands nappies?
That evening Mrs. Marian organised a cabbage roll production on their kitchen tableeveryone had a job, and Nick fawned on their guest, almost carrying her at times.
It didnt stop there. On Monday, Mrs. Marian set her alarm, waking everyone early to join her in morning exercises.
So, whens your surgery? Lucy gasped after jogging in place. Mrs. Marian was a fitness enthusiast, had set a forty-ten interval timer. Forty seconds of push-ups and leg-lifts, ten seconds to catch breath. Not everyone kept up.
Sam sulked off, giving up on healthy living at once, but Nick persisted cheerfully.
Come on, Lucy! Just a bit more! he encouraged.
Yes, but when exactly? Lucy repeated.
Tomorrow. I get admitted tomorrow Marian answered, suddenly sombre. Nick, youll come to visit? she asked, sounding forlorn.
But youll only be a couple of days. The op is a simple one! Nick said, but agreed anyway.
Monday was exhausting. Lucys lessons were cancelled one after anotherchildren ill, families away, some unwilling to travel, others refusing to host.
The phone rang incessantly, crows cawed outside, Mrs. Marian listened to Matt Monro records in her room. Born Free boomed, then Softly, As I Leave You. Marian sang along, saying Eh! especially brightly, tapping her foot. Through the frosted glass, Lucy watched her guest dance.
Shes just nervous, Nick explained. She always listens to Monro when shes in a state.
Later that evening, Mrs. Marian tried to read David Copperfield with Sam, but the boy refused. Aunt Marian stared in astonishment as he calmly explained his thoughts about Copperfield, which hed finished a year ago, and about having guests like Mrs. Marian stay with them; she flinched when Sam slammed his door, then called for Lucy. Lucy, phone pressed to her ear, muttered shed come at oncethat shed simply travel to Barnet for Andys lesson.
No! Marian suddenly snatched Lucys phone and barked into the receiver. No, absolutely not! If you want your son to become a successful young man and to study with a top-rated speech therapist, you bring him here this instant! If not, dont complain in old age when he wont come see youbecause hes tired! You have half an hour or youre out of the schedule! Who am I? Lucy Bartons secretary. Good day.
She handed back the phone and peered out the window. Lucy fumed, breathing hard, then finally exploded. Even Sam came out to listen.
You know what, Mrs. Marian? Dont meddle in our life, or my work either! And make cabbage rolls in your own kitchen. I dont care how many nappies you changedIve had enough! Enough with the bossing. Read Dickens, exercise, do as you wish, just not in my house! Harry will lie where I say, not you! And Ill buy tinned food if I like, even if you think its unhealthy. This is my life, my home, my students, and Im the one deciding what to do. I truly hope your operation goes well and youll soon be home again. I really, truly do!
Sam applauded, Harry whimpered, burying his nose in Lucys knees. Mrs. Marian finally turned from the window and smiled.
Lucy was caught off guardshed expected a scolding. But instead:
Thats exactly as it should be, Lucy. Never grovel, never fawn. Say no when you mean itunless its life or death. I like you for it. I was just worried you were too soft, always eager to please. But dont be. Let people think what they like. Stand your ground. If you dont want me to stay, say sothat clears the air. Life is much easier that way. Go on, Lucy, live as you wish. Forgive me, dear; Ive overstepped. Ive always been a bit of a provocateur. Nick knows Oh dont look at me like that! Im terrified about the operation, really! Thats why Im being impossible. Harrys a fine dog, so well-trained! She stooped to stroke him. And would you like some fruit jelly? I brought excellent apple jellies. Sam, will you have one?
The boy rolled his eyes. Hed long suspected women were peculiar creatures, but this was proof.
The bell rangAndys mum brought him for his lesson. Afterwards, he too got a piece of jelly. His mother, glancing fearfully at Lucy, apologised and begged not to be dropped from the schedule.
Or should I ring your secretary? the woman asked timidly.
No need. Andy is doing splendidly.
Lucy winked at her secretary.
That evening, after Nick and Sam retreated to their video games, Mrs. Marian, settled in a cosy chair, told storieshow Nicholas, as a boy, used to peel her wallpaper; how she had scolded him as he sulked and turned away; how he nearly drowned running over thin ice on the pond; how shed chased after and pulled him out, then plied him with tea and honey.
And that girl Rachel, I never did care for her, Mrs. Marian concluded. Too pliantno backbone. And the porcelain set with poppies? Never mind. Broken glass brings good luck. Thats why you live so happily. Nick loves me enough to forgive anything. Forgive me too, Lucy. Thank you for taking me inyou’re a good soul.
Fruit jelly melted on the plates, twilight faded outside the window, and an orange-red strip of dawn grew in the east.
Its time Mrs. Marian whispered. I should be there by eight
Nicholas helped her into the car and drove through the empty early streets. Lucy rode next to Mrs. Marian, feeling her tremble.
Ill ring you tonight, Lucy said, tucking the womans coat. And youre to come back to us, no arguing!
Marian nodded. Life with the young ones was goodespecially Sam with his boldness, so unlike his father. But as he himself said, thats just his internal climateit cant be changed, only studied, and Sam was certainly ready for thatLucy watched the hospital doors slide shut behind Mrs. Marian and Nick, the falling sunlight glinting on the glass. For a moment, the world was silentno music, no barking, no clatter of dishesjust the faint tick of an anxious heart. When Nick returned, hours later, Lucy took his hand and led him inside. Sam met them in the hallway, headphones askew, Harry curled at his feet.
Shell be all right, Nick said softly, though his words sounded half like a question.
Lucy nodded. She will. And when shes home again, Ill let her teach us how to make those cabbage rolls properly. She smiled, surprising herself.
All that week, their home felt different. Lighter. Lucy cleaned less, laughed more, let Sam and Harry dash mud across the kitchen without scolding, listened to Andys lesson at the garden table with sun streaming in. The alarm clock rang when they chose, not when it was ordered. They ate tinned peaches straight from the can, reading David Copperfield aloud, just to see if Dickens would summon Marians ghost into the room.
On Thursday, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Marianher voice tiny but triumphant: Out tomorrow! Ive orders to rest, but I expect a seat by the warmest window and apple jelly with my tea. Before Lucy could answer, there was her laughrich and unguarded.
That evening, the family made up the guest room together. Sam artfully arranged a stack of Dickens, Harry dropped a chewed tennis ball on the pillow, and Lucy tucked in a small tin of peaches. Nick scribbled WELCOME HOME in bright marker on the wardrobe mirror.
On Friday, they collected Mrs. Marian at sunrise. She stepped carefully through the door, blinking at the golden light. And there they all were: Lucy with arms open, Sam grinning, Harry bouncing, and even Nick holding his palm tree shorts behind his back.
Marian lowered herself onto the sofa, surveying the scene. Its nice, she said, her voice almost a whisper. Its very nice.
Lucy sat beside her, hand in hand, windows wide to the singing of the city; sunlight spilled over floor and faces, impossible to stop. The house, imperfect and loud and alive, gleamed with laughter and forgiveness.
This, Lucy realized as their familyold, young, borrowed, inheritedgathered in the ordinary, tangled heart of the living room, was the only rule shed ever truly need.
