So, Mums moving in tomorrow morning. Ive arranged it all with Uncle Colinhell help shift her things. Dont make that face, Laura, we dont have a choice. She had that blood pressure scare, you remember? She needs proper care, home-cooked food, and some peace. Youre working from home anyway, so its not a big askjust a bowl of soup here and there and keep an eye on her blood pressure.
James hit me with this in that decisions been made voice, ignoring everything except his bowl of stew as if he’d closed the subject. I was slicing a loaf of granary and just froze, knife hovering over the crust. My gut turned cold first, then flushed hot.
I set down the knife and looked at him. My husband of twenty years, sitting in the kitchen Id made my pride and joy, acting like I was some domestic gadget. Like I was just a free nurse and a soup dispenser.
James, I started, and my tone had that steely edge that always meant trouble brewing. Not that he noticed, rooting through his stew for another chunk of beef. Did you even ask how I felt? Ive got my annual accounts coming up. Working from home doesnt mean Im not actually working. I need quiet, I need focusI cant be running around with tablets all day and listening to her moan about the weather.
He looked up at me, genuinely baffled and ever so slightly irritated.
Oh, Laura, dont start. Its my mum! Shes not a stranger off the street. I cant leave her in hospital, can I? Theyll send her home anyway, and we cant afford a private careryou know were still paying off the car loan. Youre home all day anyway. Surely you can pause five minutes for a bit of soup?
Five minutes? I scoffed. Your mumPatricianeeds twenty-four-hour attention. Remember last summer at the cottage when she ran me ragged? The tea was too strong, the cushion too lumpy, the sun in the wrong placeand she was healthy then. Can you imagine what shell be like now shes convinced shes ill?
Youre overreacting, he said, breezily. She likes order, thats all. And its just for a bit. Shell move back once shes back on her feet. You should show some compassion, you know, as a woman.
There it wasshould. My whole life had been one big list of shoulds: be a good hostess, the model mum (until Samuel left for uni), the understanding wife, the reliable worker. Now at forty-five, when my career is finally blossoming, Im being handed another should.
Patricia is… well, a character. She ruled the local greengrocers for decades and sees herself as the centre of every universe. The smallest sniffle? Full-blown crisis. Now, somehow, James had happily decided this latest crisis was all mine to deal with.
I cant do it, James, I said, voice steady. I have different plans.
What plans? he snorted. A box set and a cuppa?
Im running a massive new project. Ive just landed the contract to manage the accounts for a chain of shops. Its serious money and its a lot of work. I cant drop everything.
Turn it down, James replied, as if it was nothing. Were doing alright, and Mums health has to come first. Dont be selfish, Laura. Shes coming tomorrow at ten. Get Samuels room ready and pop a chicken on for hershe cant have anything rich.
He grabbed his napkin, left it on the table, and stomped off, secure hed have the last word, as usual. Hed always been like thatassume Id sigh, complain, then give in. Sacrifice my comfort for the good of the family.
I sat, staring at our kitchen, the twilight falling outside. Thought flashed through my mind: if I roll over now, thats it. Ill be a live-in nurse for the rest of her years. Hypertension isnt something that just passes.
I remembered my call with my boss, Helen, that morning.
Laura Clark, we need someone to sort the accounts at our Oxford branch. Its a month, maybe six weeks. Accommodation paid, double salary. Youre the best weve gotbut Ill need your answer tomorrow.
Id been torn thenmoving to another city, living solo, leaving James alone? It felt odd. But looking at his empty bowl, I realisedit wasnt just a job. It was a lifeline.
I loaded the dishwasher, walked into our bedroom, and pulled out my suitcase.
James was sprawled on the sofa glued to the telly. What are you doing? Sorting out your wardrobe? About timehalf of that stuff you never wear.
Im off, James. To Oxford. Month and a half, work trip.
He muted the telly and looked at me like Id grown horns. Youre kidding. What about Mum? Whos looking after her?
You are, James. Youre her son. Not a random bloke off the street.
You cant be serious! Ive got work! I leave at eight, back by seven! Whos sorting her meds, making her lunch?
Take some leave. Or ask for flexi-hours. You told me to give up my project for the family. Nows your turn to show some compassion.
Thats betrayal! His face was beetroot red. Youre doing this on purpose, arent you?
No, James, the offer was this morning. I was on the fence. You made up my mind for me. We need the money, dont we? Since my wage cant stretch to a carer, maybe the double pay will help. Unless you fancy trying to cope yourself.
I finished packingmethodically and calm: toothbrush, makeup, joggers, laptop. James flapped around the room, moaning and guilt-tripping, threatening divorce.
How can you abandon a helpless old woman? he wailed theatrically.
Shes not abandoned, shes with her loving son, I said, zipping up my case. Taxis booked. Trains in two hours.
You wouldnt dare! He blocked the door.
I stood close. Watch me. Twenty years Ive cooked your dinners, ironed your shirts, tolerated your mums foibles. Im done being convenient. I want a life. Step aside, James. Or Ill file for divorce, and then we can divvy up the flat, not just the chores for your mum.
He stepped aside, shocked. Hed never seen me like that. No more cheerful, pliant Laura. A stranger stared back at him.
When the door slammed behind me, James was left alone. And the next morning, his mum arrived.
Patricia swept in like an exiled queen: tragic, three giant bags stuffed more with old blankets and jars of jam than anything useful.
Wheres Laura? she asked in a paper-thin voice, settling on Samuels bed. Could you fluff the cushion? Theres a terrible draught.
Lauras away, James grunted, lugging in her bags. Work trip. They called her urgently.
His mum pressed her hand to her chest. What do you mean, away? Whos going to look after me? I need chicken broth every three hours! Ive got a routine! Oh, how could Laura abandon her husbands mother in her hour of need? How unfeeling!
Ill look after you, Mum. Me.
Welcome to hell.
James didnt take time offhis boss wouldnt hear of it, and his project was up against it. A lot for a half-hearted solution.
Each morning at seven, Patricia woke him by thumping her walking stick on the wall (brought along for effect, despite her still managing fine on her feet).
James, my blood pressure! Quick, check it, I think Im dying!
Red-eyed and exhausted, James would rush in with the monitor. Numbers finetextbookbut Patricia insisted on her drops, tea with two sugars (but dont stir it!) and a hot water bottle for her feet.
Then it was porridge time. James could just about scramble eggs and do beans on toast. The porridge was burnt.
You trying to poison me?! shed wail, poking the charred lump. Lauras done this on purposeshe never liked me!
By day, hed dash out to work, leave her tea in a Thermos and a plate of sandwiches. The phone rang every twenty minutes.
James, I cant find the TV remote!
James, the windows stuck!
James, have I had the red pill or the blue? Come check!
Come evening, he returned to chaos. Patricia, for all her bed rest, inspected every cupboard.
Youve let this place go! she declared. I tried to tidy but got dizzy. Lauras a right slob. And why isnt the flour in jars? Youll get weevils.
James gritted his teeth, microwaved ready meals, washed up, and got more earache about what a terrible wife Laura was and how thin hed become.
Within a week, James looked washed out. He forgot his progress for work, earned a stern warning from his boss, and the flat felt utterly unliveable. Mum didnt stop demanding attention, sympathy, conversation.
Mum, why dont you pop the telly on? I need to finish this.
I knew work would always come before your own mother! Patricia would sob. Youll be sorry when Im gone!
One day, home early, James caught her mid-deceit. The door to her room was ajar; Patriciawho claimed she could barely movewas balancing on a stool cleaning the light fitting. When she heard him turn the key, she jumped down with surprising agility, flung herself on the sofa, and pulled up a blanket.
Oh, James, youre home? I cant move, darling… be a dear, fetch me some water…
He just stared at her, something inside finally snapping.
Mum, he said quietly. I saw you.
Saw what? she retorted, eyes darting.
Jumping off the stool. Youre fine. Youre milking it, and you know it. Youve been playing games with both me and Laura.
How dare you! she screamed, dropping the frail routine immediately. I was CLEANINGfor you! I cant live in filth! Lauras ruined you!
Me, ruined? James barked out a bitter laugh. Ive had four hours sleep all week. Nearly lost my job. Laura only left because of all this. Youre playing games!
Shes a snake! Patricia shrieked. Ran out on her marriage! A proper wife would be here, waiting hand and foot!
She IS a good wife, Mum. The problems me. I was the bad husbanddumping everything on her, or worse, making her deal with things that arent even real problems.
That evening, for the first time that week, he rang me.
Hi, James. Everything alright? Is your mum ill?
No. Mums… just peachy, actually. Too peachy. Laura, Im… Ive been a right numpty.
I could hear some humour in his tone for the first time. Tell me something new! What happened?
Im done in. I cant cope. Shes been at it all along. Cleaning the light fittingshonestly, Laura, shes fine.
I snorted. I did wonder, James. Blood pressure emergencies dont usually involve gymnastics.
When are you coming home? he asked hopefully.
A month or so. Ive got the contract. I cant walk out.
A month, he groaned. I wont survive.
Youll manage. Good for you, actuallymaybe youll learn a thing or two about what home care really means. Its about time.
Laura, Im so sorry. I get it now. I was wrong about your work. You matter. A lot.
Im glad you understand. I have to dash, Ive got a meeting. Take care. Say hi to your mum.
He hung up, drained. Still, he knew what he needed to do.
He went into Patricias room. She refused to look at him, perched on the edge of the bed peevishly.
Mum, weve got a private doctor booked tomorrow. Top consultant. Well do a full check-up. If you do need care, well hire a professionalno arguments. Someone wholl keep you to the letter of your regime. No fuss.
A carer? Why waste money? I can cope…
No, Mum. Youre meant to be ill, remember? Experts only. And if the doctor says youre fit, youre going home. Well get someone from the council to bring your shopping round twice a week.
Youre throwing me out?!
Im helping you back to your own space. Itll be better for everyone.
The next three weeks were a cold war. The doctor found nothing dramaticnothing but normal old age. Patricia tried playing weak and ill but every time, James called the ambulance. The crew told her off for wasting their time, jabbed her with magnesium, and left. After their third visit, Patricia realised shed lost her audience.
She packed by herself.
Take me home, she demanded. At least my neighbours treat me properlysomeone to talk to. Youve gone hard, James. That wifes ruined you.
James dropped her off, filled her cupboards, and told her hed visit weekendsbut theyd go back to living apart.
When I came home again, the place positively sparkled, peaceful as you like. James met me at the station with the biggest bunch of roses Ive ever seen. The man actually looked thinner, and something softergenuine respecthad crept into his eyes.
Over dinner (he made baked salmon! Not bad at all), we talked.
I missed you, he confessed. Not just because the house fell apart. I missed us.
I missed you too, I smiled. And, I finished the project. Theyre giving me a bonusand a promotion, actually. Ill be managing more branches, so therell be a bit more travel.
He looked apprehensive but then nodded. Good. Youve earned it. Im proud of you.
And your mum?
She rings to complain about her neighbours, the council, and the rain. Backs fine, blood pressures fine. I sorted something with Linda in her buildingshe pops in and checks on Mum for a little extra. Cheaper than a carer, and everyones happier.
I squeezed his hand.
You know, James, Im glad it ended this way. Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom to see whats important.
Yeah, he agreed. Like, your wife isnt your domestic staff. Shes your partner.
Since then, things have changed. I say no when I need to, and James finally understands that housework and looking after parents isnt just for women. Patricia will never change, but now she cant pit us against each other.
So the next time his mum rang with, Im dying, you must come now!, he replied, Mum, Ill call the ambulance. If youre admitted, Ill visit. Otherwise, drink some chamomile tea.
Oddly enough, shes not dying much these days.
What I learnt: you have to protect your boundarieseven from family. If that means moving to the ends of the earth (or Oxford), do it. Its worth it.
