Pass me some water, my throats dry as a desert! Ive been shouting for an hour already and youre banging those pots about, making it sound like youre ignoring me on purpose!
That sharp, cantankerous voice from the back bedroom made me jump, nearly dropping the ladle. I took a deep breath and counted silently to ten a habit Id picked up over the past three years of living in this hell. The kitchen stank of boiled chicken and medication a mixture so ingrained I swear it stuck to the walls and curtains. I turned off the hob, poured a glass of lukewarm water not cold, not hot and headed toward my mother-in-laws room.
Margaret Palmer lay propped up on her pillows, resembling a disgruntled old bird. Her watery, piercing eyes followed my every move. Among the myriad pill packs and crossword books on her bedside, a thick brown envelope sat conspicuously something new.
Here you are, Margaret, I said, keeping my voice steady as I handed her the glass. Didnt hear you with the extractor fan on. Chicken broths done, Ill mash some veg up for you as the doctor ordered.
She took a few tiny sips, grimaced as if Id given her vinegar, and pushed the glass away.
Always got an excuse, she muttered, dabbing her lips with the sheets corner. Fan, hoover, phone youd think you want me to shrivel up with thirst!
Please dont say that, Im always here, I replied, letting her complaints roll off. As I straightened her blanket, my eyes landed again on the odd envelope, a corner of a document with a crest peeking out.
Is that a new prescription? I nodded toward the bedside. Let me check, maybe I should pop to Boots later.
Margarets hand moved lightning-fast to cover the envelope surprising for someone whod earlier claimed she couldnt lift a spoon.
Dont touch! she barked. None of your business. My papers.
I blinked, surprised. Usually, she demanded I go through every medical receipt, gas bill, even pension letters. This sudden secrecy was out of character.
I was only asking I started, but the front door slammed and I heard heavy footsteps.
Davids home! Her face transformed instantly, sweetness stretched across her cheeks. Son, come save me from this prison guard!
My wifes brother David walked in, looking worn out, shirt rumpled and tie askew. He worked as a head sales manager, rarely home these days, spending hours at work to avoid the hospital atmosphere and endless complaints.
Evening, mum. Hi, Jane, he grunted, pecking Margarets cheek and barely glancing at me. Whats happened now? Prison guard? Jane waits on you hand and foot.
Hand and foot Margaret pursed her lips. Only waiting for me to pop off so she can grab my flat. Think I dont see? Her eyes are empty and cold. No love, only duty.
I felt the familiar lump rise in my throat. Three years ago when Margaret had her stroke, we faced a choice: a carer or a care home. No money for a proper carer, David refused the care home people would talk, abandoning ones own mother. So I left my librarian job, moved Margaret out of her two-bed flat into ours, and we let her place out to cover her medical expenses.
Ill set the table, I murmured and left the room.
Over dinner, David stabbed his way listlessly through a fish pie.
Tastes alright? I asked, hoping for warmth.
Fine, he didnt look up from his phone. Listen, Jane, mum wants to invite Susan over. Says she misses her.
Susan was Margarets niece, daughter of her late sister. Loud, garish makeup, utterly useless in a household she showed up twice a year, brought a cheap cake, spent an hour babbling about failed dates, then vanished, leaving nothing but a whiff of syrupy perfume and a pile of dirty mugs.
Why? I frowned. Margarets blood pressures up, she needs rest, and Susans a whirlwind. Itll upset her again.
Mums set on it. Something important, apparently. Lets just let them chat for an hour tomorrow.
Next day, at twelve sharp, Susan arrived. She breezed in, shoes still on, marching straight across our clean carpet and announced:
Hi, Jane! Have you put on some weight? That housecoats not flattering. Wheres Aunt Margaret? Got treats for her!
She held up a bag of marshmallows, strictly forbidden for Margaret due to her diabetes.
I pointed silently to the bedroom. Susan disappeared inside, lively whispering and Margarets sniffles instantly filtering out. I went back to the kitchen, started sorting lentils, trying to ignore the gnawing anxiety. That envelope on the bedside haunted me.
An hour later, Susan waltzed out, glowing, envelope tucked triumphantly into her oversized purse.
Well, Jane, Im off! Places to be, you understand! Aunt Margarets asleep now don’t wake her. Youre taking good care of her; though I would swap out those curtains, theyre terribly dated.
And with a flourish, she was gone.
That evening, as I wrestled the bedding from Margaret a proper job as she refused to help and weighed more than youd expect I worked up the courage.
Margaret, what were those papers Susan took? Are copies needed? Is something for Social Services?
A sly gleam flickered in her eyes, and she gave a triumphant, malicious smile.
That, Jane, is my thank you. Susans the only one who loves me for me not for the flat, not for the inheritance. Bloods thicker than water.
I froze inside.
Which flat? The two-beds being let out, we use that money for your treatment. We agreed, after well, someday, it would go to the grandkids, mine and Davids children.
Margaret laughed, dry and croaky.
Agreed, did you? Dividing the hen before its plucked! Well, Ive decided otherwise. The solicitor came today while you were shopping. I signed a deed of gift. To Susan.
I stopped mid-way through bedding, world spinning.
What a deed of gift? To Susan? The very Susan whos never brought you so much as a glass of water? Who doesnt know a single pill you take?
But she never complains! Margaret shrieked. You walk around like youre doing me a big favour! Think I dont feel it? Just waiting for me to die so you can snatch the flat! Well, tough luck! Susans the owner now. Officially. Section 572 of the Civil Code, my dear. Gift deed. No turning back.
I sat heavily on a chair, my legs numb. Three years. Three years erased. Injections, nappies, tantrums, sleepless nights. Career lost. All for what? To hear Im a grasping stranger.
Does David know? was all I could choke out.
Hell find out in due course. My property my choice. Now go reheat my soup, Im hungry. And fix my pad, its uncomfortable.
I left. My ears rang. I went out into the hallway, grabbed my coat and bag, and left the flat. I couldnt stand it anymore. I needed fresh air.
I wandered around for two hours, freezing, one thought circling: betrayal. Not just Margarets I never expected love from her. My husbands betrayal. The solicitor couldnt have come on his own; someone mustve let him in, supplied documents.
When I returned home, David was already there, eating soup straight from the pot.
Where have you been? he grumbled. Mums shouting, pads wet, youre nowhere. Am I supposed to wash her? Im a man, for Gods sake!
I looked at him. For the first time in twenty years of marriage, I saw him clearly, no illusions. This was not a partner or protector, but an immature, selfish man happy with the convenient arrangement.
David, I said quietly. Your mums gifted the flat to Susan. The deeds done. Did you know?
He nearly choked, coughed, flushed red.
Gifted? Youre talking nonsense!
Not nonsense. She admitted it. Susan took the documents today; the solicitor came while I was out. Who let him in? You have a spare key, did you pop home during lunch?
David looked away, tearing bread into tiny bits, his shoulder twitching.
Well I did drop by. Mum asked. Said some pension forms needed sorting. I let the bloke in; he looked respectable. I didnt get involved, Jane! I had to get back to work!
You didnt get involved? my voice quavered. Your mum gave away the childrens inheritance to her niece, and you didnt get involved? Wholl pay for her meds now? The rent moneys gone, Susan will claim or sell the flat. Wherell the money come from, David? Your wages? You expect me to start working again to support a woman who spat in my face?
Dont start hysterics! David slammed his fist on the table. Mums ill, probably lost her marbles! Well challenge it all, get her declared incompetent if it comes to that!
Incompetent? I snorted bitterly. Youve always boasted her minds sharp enough when shes praising you. You think the solicitors a fool? He wouldve demanded a certificate. Susan thought this through.
From the bedroom, Margaret screeched again:
Is anyone alive out there? Im soaking! Jane! Come and wash me!
David grimaced.
Jane, please. Later, well sort it all out. She cant lie in filth.
Something snapped inside me. The thread holding together my patience, sense of duty, and all my sacrifices broke. I looked at my hands red, hardened from endless cleaning. I remembered my last visit to the hairdresser. I remembered dreaming of going to the seaside, but what about Mum?
No, I said.
What do you mean, no? David didnt understand.
Im not going in. I wont wash her again. I wont mash soups, wont listen to insults. Shes got her flats owner Susan. The deed is one-way, but fairness if Susan got the asset, she can take on the burden. Call her. Tell her to come and look after Margaret.
Are you mad? David jumped up. Susan wont pick up at this hour! She doesnt know how! Jane, its my mum!
Exactly. Your mum. Not mine. And she gave her flat to her niece. Im just a prison guard, as she called me.
I turned and went not to Margarets room, but to ours. I took out a suitcase.
What are you doing? David was pale and frightened in the doorway.
Im leaving. Im moving in with my mum. Its cramped in her one-bed, but at least its clean air.
Jane, stop it! She made a mistake, lost her head! Well fix everything! Dont leave us! How will I manage alone? Im working!
Hire a carer. Oh wait, no money flats gone. So youll have to do it. In the evenings. At night. At weekends. Welcome to my world, David.
I threw my clothes in the suitcase jumpers, underwear, books carelessly. Tears streamed down my face but I didnt care. The main thing was to leave quickly.
Jane, I wont let you go! he tried to grab my arm. Youre my wife! You promised, for better or worse!
Ive had the worse, David. For three years straight. Wheres the better? And by the way, I zipped the suitcase and stood tall Im filing for divorce.
Over the flat?! Youre that materialistic?!
Not about the flat, you fool! I yelled back. Its because you made me a servant! Because you let the solicitor in and betrayed me! Because youre thinking about wholl change the pad and not about apologising!
I rolled the suitcase to the hall. Margarets cries now sounded more like wailing:
David! Shes abandoned me! She wants to kill me! Get me water!
David rushed between me and his mothers door.
Jane, please Stay just for tonight!
Ill leave the keys on the table, I said coldly. Goodbye.
I walked out and pressed the lift button. Inside, tears poured down, but it was relief.
The first week at mums was a blur. I slept for twelve hours, ate properly, walked in the park. I turned my phone off, got a new SIM for only immediate family. But word reached me anyway.
Through a mutual friend, I heard David had tried to call Susan. She ignored him, then said, a gift is a gift, theres no care obligation in the contract. She planned to sell the flat for quick cash, giving us two months notice for the tenants. Whats more, she suggested Margaret ought to apply to a council home.
David took unpaid leave. Then sick leave. Then he started phoning our kidsour son Tom and our daughter Emily, who were studying in other cities. He tried guilt-tripping them into coming to care for Margaret. They called me.
Mum, dad says youre a traitor, said Tom. But we know how hard you worked. We wont come, weve got exams. And anyway grandma made her choice with Susan.
I was proud of my children. They understood.
After a month, I got my old library job back. The pay wasnt much, but the peace and smell of books worked wonders. I filed for divorce. David never appeared at the hearings.
One evening, as I came home from work, there was David waiting outside. Hed aged a decade in weeks. Unshaven, dirty shirt, smelling faintly of stale beer and worse the scent of frail age I knew too well.
Jane he shuffled forward. Help me. I cant do it. She screams all night. Susans sold the flat to some dodgy firm, quick deal for peanuts. The rental moneys gone. Cant afford a carer. I got fired
I looked at him and felt nothing but disgust.
And what do you want from me, David?
You know how You could handle her. Come back, please. Ill forgive everything. Well sell Mums flat the one we live in buy smaller, hire someone.
Youll forgive everything? I repeated. Got that backwards. Its me whod have to forgive. But I wont.
Jane, she cries for you. Remembers you. Says you made the best porridge.
Shouldve remembered earlier. When you were bringing in solicitors.
Susans conned us! Shes a scammer!
Susan did what you all allowed. Margaret tried to buy love with bricks and mortar. The deals struck. The goods delivered. No returns.
Youve turned cold, David whispered.
Ive turned free, I corrected him. Leave, David, and dont come again. Weve got court next week. Fingers crossed for a smooth divorce.
I walked round him and opened the blocks door.
Jane! he shouted after me. What if I put her in a care home? Council-run? Theres a waiting list, paperwork I dont know how! At least help with forms!
I paused, turned.
Try Google, David. Youre a manager. Or were. Youll figure it out. My shift is finished.
I shut the door.
Upstairs, I drew the curtains and looked out David still standing on the pavement, a small, pitiful figure crushed beneath the weight of responsibility hed always tried to push onto others. I closed the curtains.
The kettle was whistling. Mum was baking cabbage pies.
Who was at the door, Janey? mum called from the kitchen.
Wrong address, mum. Just wrong address.
I sat at the table, picked up a warm pie and took a bite. It was delicious. For the first time in three years, food actually tasted good. Life went on, and now it belonged to me. Margaret got exactly what she deserved her beloved niece and the money, and David, at last, forced to grow up, even at fifty. Fairness is a dish often served cold, but that doesnt make it less filling.
And my personal lesson? Dont let duty or guilt chain you to someone elses selfishness. Sometimes stepping back is the only way to find freedom.
