The doorbell rang with an ear-piercing shrill, announcing unexpected company. Louise set aside her apron, wiped her hands, and headed for the door. Her daughter stood on the doorstep with a young man in tow. Louise let them inside.
“Hi, Mum,” her daughter said, planting a kiss on her cheek. “This is Davehes moving in with us.”
“Pleasure,” the young man said politely.
“And this is my mum, Auntie Louise.”
“Louise Thompson,” she corrected.
“Mum, whats for dinner?”
“Mashed peas and bangers.”
“I dont eat mashed peas,” the lad replied, kicking off his shoes and striding into the living room.
“But Mum, Dave doesnt like peas,” her daughter said with wide, pleading eyes.
The boy flopped onto the sofa and tossed his rucksack on the floor.
“Thats technically my room,” Louise remarked.
“Dave, come on, Ill show you where well be staying,” called Emily.
“I like it right here,” he grumbled, reluctantly getting up.
“Mum, can you think of something else for Dave to eat?”
“Dunno. Theres half a pack of sausages left,” Louise shrugged.
“Thatll dojust need some mustard, ketchup, and a bit of bread,” he chimed in.
“Fine,” Louise sighed, heading to the kitchen. “First, it was stray kittens and puppies. Now its this. And Im expected to feed him too?”
She dished herself a helping of mushy peas, plated two fried sausages, added a side salad, and dug in.
“Mum, why are you eating alone?” her daughter asked, appearing in the kitchen.
“Because I just got home from work and Im starving,” Louise replied through a mouthful of sausage. “If anyone else wants food, they can help themselves or cook. And while were at itwhy is Dave moving in?”
“What do you mean why? Hes my husband.”
“Your WHAT?”
“Yep. Your little girls all grown up and can decide if she wants to get married or not. Im nineteen, you know.”
“You didnt even invite me to the wedding!”
“There wasnt onejust a quick registry office do. Now that were married, were living together,” Emily said, watching her mother chew.
“Well, congratulations. But why skip the wedding?”
“If youve got money for a wedding, feel free to hand it overwell put it to good use.”
“Right,” Louise said, still eating. “And why *our* place?”
“Because his flats crammed with four people already.”
“So renting somewhere wasnt an option?”
“Why pay rent when Ive got a room here?” Emily said, incredulous.
“I see.”
“Can you give us something to eat?”
“Emily, the peas are on the hob, sausages in the pan. If thats not enough, theres half a pack in the fridge. Help yourselves.”
“Mum, youre missing the pointyouve got a SON-IN-LAW now,” Emily stressed.
“And? Should I break into a celebratory jig? Emily, I just got home from work, Im knackeredno fanfare, please. Youve got hands and feet; sort yourselves out.”
“No wonder youre single!” Emily shot her a glare and stormed off, slamming her bedroom door. Louise finished eating, washed the dishes, wiped the table, and retreated to her room. She changed, grabbed her gym bag, and left for the leisure centreher usual evening routine.
By ten, she returned, craving a hot cuppa. Instead, she found the kitchen in shamblessomeone had attempted cooking. The pan lid was MIA, the food inside dried and cracked. Sausage packaging littered the table beside a crusty slice of bread. The frying pan was scorched, scraped with a fork. Dirty dishes sat in the sink, and a sticky puddle glistened on the floor. The flat reeked of cigarettes.
“Well, thats new. Emily never pulled this before.”
Louise pushed open her daughters door. The pair were drinking wine and smoking.
“Emily, clean the kitchen. And tomorrow, youre buying a new pan,” she said, leaving the door ajar.
Emily leaped up and chased after her.
“Why should *we* clean? And where am I supposed to get money for a pan? I dont workIm at uni! Do plates matter more than us?”
“Emily, you know the rules: if you eat, you clean. If you make a mess, you tidy it. Break something, replace it. Everyone pulls their weight. And yes, the pan mattersit wasnt cheap, and now its ruined.”
“You dont want us here,” her daughter accused.
“No,” Louise said calmly.
She wasnt in the mood for a row, and Emily had never been this difficult before.
“But part of this place is mine!”
“No, the flats entirely mine. I worked for it, bought it. Youre just registered here. Solve your problems on my dime? No. If you stay, follow the rules.”
“Ive lived by your rules my whole life! Im married nowyou dont get to boss me around anymore,” Emily snapped. “Besides, youve had your turnhand the flat over to us.”
“Happy to lend you the hallway bench outside. Sweetheart, youre married? Didnt ask. You stay here alone, or you and hubby live elsewhere. Hes not staying.”
“Keep your stupid flat. Dave, were leaving,” Emily yelled, throwing clothes into a bag.
Five minutes later, the newly minted son-in-law lurched into Louises room.
“Chill, Mumitll all work out,” he slurred, swaying slightly. “We wont bolt at midnight. Play nice, and well keep the noise down.”
“What kind of Mum do you think I am?” Louise scoffed. “Your parents are alivego bother them. And take your wife with you.”
“Yeah, Ill” He raised a fist, holding it under her nose.
“Go on, then.”
Louise seized his wrist with her manicured fingers, squeezing hard.
“Ow! Let go, you nutter!”
“Mum, what are you doing?!” Emily shrieked, trying to pry her off.
Louise shoved her aside, kneed Dave where it hurt, then elbowed his throat.
“Ill document these injuries!” he whined. “Ill sue!”
“Hold on, Ill call the policemake it easier for you,” Louise retorted.
The young lovebirds fled the cosy two-bed flat.
“Youre not my mum anymore!” Emily shouted. “Youll never see your grandkids!”
“What a tragedy,” Louise deadpanned. “Finally, peace.”
She checked her handsa few nails had snapped.
“Nothing but trouble,” she muttered.
After they left, she cleaned the kitchen, binned the ruined peas and pan, and changed the locks.
Three months later, she bumped into Emily at work. Her daughter looked gaunt, hollow-cheeked, miserable.
“Mum, whats for dinner?” she asked.
“No idea,” Louise shrugged. “Havent decided. What dyou fancy?”
“Roast chicken and rice,” Emily whispered. “And a coronation salad.”
“Lets get chicken, then,” Louise said. “Youre making the salad.”
