This is our flat; Im the lady of the house too, declared the girl who claimed to be my sons girlfriend.
Mum, why are you barging into my bedroom without knocking? Andrew burst out of the bedroom, looking rather annoyed.
What knocking? This is my flat! Margaret Ivanova set a basket of freshly laundered clothes on the floor. I just came in to put the clean washing away.
You could have taken it from the bathroom yourself.
I could have, but I didnt. Its been sitting there for two days.
Andrew snorted and slipped back into his room, slamming the door behind him.
Margaret sighed and shuffled to the kitchen to boil the kettle. Lately Andrew had become fidgety and irritable, snapping at everything. It wasnt like him before.
She was fiftyseven, and her whole life had revolved around her only child. Her husband had left when Andrew was five; she never remarried and raised him on her own, juggling two jobs so he would never want for anything. Hed gone to a good school, then university, and now held a respectable post at a construction firm.
The threebedroom flat was in Margarets name; shed inherited it from her parents before the divorce. She, Andrew and the third room the living room were the whole of it.
Margaret laid out the teacups and fetched some biscuits. Andrew appeared in the doorway, calmer this time.
Sorry, Mum. I lost my cool, he said.
No worries. Have a seat, well have tea.
He sat opposite her and picked up a cup.
Mum, I need to talk to you.
The tone told her this was serious.
Im listening.
Id like Pippa to move in with us.
Margaret froze, teacup halfway to her lips.
Pippa? Your girlfriend?
Yes. Weve been together for six months, you know that.
I know, but you want her to move in Andrew, are you planning to get married?
Not yet, he looked away. We just want to live together and see if were a good match.
And where will she stay? In your room?
Yes.
Andrew, thats going to be cramped. I live here, you two are still young
Mum, Im a thirtyyearold man. Its time I got my own personal life sorted.
Im not against your love life! Margaret set her cup down. But it seems to me you need a separate place. Rent a flat, for instance.
Why rent when we have a threebedroom flat? Theres plenty of room for everyone.
Think about it, love. Im used to a certain order in my home, and now a stranger would be moving in
She isnt a stranger! Shes my girlfriend!
For me shes a stranger, Margaret said firmly. Ive only seen her three times, we barely know each other.
Well get to know each other when she moves in.
No, Im sorry, Im against it.
Andrew jumped up.
You know what, Mum? Im tired of asking your permission for everything! Im an adult!
In my flat youll keep asking.
In your flat, he chuckled. You keep reminding me Im just a lodger here, not your son.
Margaret felt a knot form in her throat.
Andrew, I didnt mean that
Fine, well talk later, he muttered and retreated to his room. She sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window, feeling a heavy weight in her chest. She didnt want to fight with her son, but she also wasnt keen on letting a stranger into her home.
That evening she rang her sister Lydia.
Lydia, Ive got a problem. Andrew wants his girlfriend to move in with us.
Your flat?
Yes. Im against it and hes taken offence.
Lydia was quiet for a moment. Did you really think hes an adult now? He needs a personal life.
I get that, but can they just rent somewhere?
Where will the money come from? Rent is pricey these days. Youve got a big flat, plenty of space.
Are you taking his side?
Im not on anyones side. I just think itll happen sooner or later. He cant stay alone forever.
Margaret hung up feeling betrayed, even by her sister.
A few days passed with barely a word exchanged. Andrew came home late from work, ate in silence, and trudged back to his room. Margaret suffered the quiet, but pride kept her from being the first to bridge the gap.
One Friday evening Andrew arrived home with a guest Pippa.
Mum, hi. Pippas staying over, he announced as he slipped into his room.
Margaret froze in the hallway. Pippa gave a shy smile.
Good afternoon, Mrs Ivanova.
Afternoon.
The girl slipped past Andrew, the door closing behind her. Margaret stood in the corridor, stunned. Hed decided to bring her in unannounced, as if she were a houseguest, not a newcomer with a key.
She retreated to her room, feeling a sting of betrayal. How could he be so bold?
The next morning she rose early, as usual, and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. Half an hour later Andrew walked in, followed by Pippa.
Good morning, Pippa said cheerily.
Good morning, Margaret replied curtly.
They all sat at the table. She poured tea and laid out toast. They ate in silence.
Mrs Ivanova, your flat is lovely, Pippa remarked suddenly.
Thanks.
Andrew told me youve lived here a long time.
Since I was born. This was my parents flat.
Right, Pippa nodded. You must be used to it.
Indeed.
An awkward pause hung in the air while Andrew stared at his phone, not joining the conversation.
Ive got to get to work, Margaret said, even though her shift wouldnt start for another two hours. She slipped away, changed, and left the flat, wandering the streets to kill time.
She returned late that evening to a quiet flat. Andrew was lounging in the living room, eyes glued to the telly.
Wheres Pippa? Margaret asked.
Shes gone home.
Right.
Margaret warmed up a bite for herself. Andrew stood in the doorway.
Mum, we need to talk. Properly.
Im listening.
I know its uncomfortable for you, but Pippa is really important to me. I want us to live together.
Im not against her, Margaret sighed. Im just scared.
Scared of what?
That everything will change. That Ill become redundant in my own house.
You wont. This is still your flat.
Itll be mine now, and then shell be here and Ill be in the way.
Dont be melodramatic.
Im not making it up. I get how it feels when a young couple wants privacy and mums still hovering.
Andrew sat down beside her.
How about this: Pippa moves in, but well try not to inconvenience you. You keep your room, we keep ours.
And the kitchen and bathroom stay shared?
Yes. Well split the time.
Margaret looked at her sons pleading eyes. He truly loved the girl.
Alright, she said softly. Let her move in. Well see how it goes.
Andrew hugged her. Thanks, Mum. You wont regret it.
A week later Pippa arrived with two suitcases and a box of cosmetics. Margaret greeted them warmly and helped carry the bags.
Thank you, Mrs Ivanova, Pippa smiled. Ill try not to be a bother.
Youre welcome. Make yourselves at home.
The first few days were peaceful. Pippa was polite, kept to herself, cooked separately, and tidied after herself. Then the little irritations began.
Margaret noticed the bathroom shelves now crowded with dozens of new bottles and jars, taking over the space shed always used.
Andrew, could you ask Pippa to move some of that away? Theres no room to turn around in the bathroom.
She needs somewhere to store it, Andrew replied.
Let her keep it in your room.
Theres no space there.
Is there space in the bathroom?
Andrew grimaced. Fine, Ill speak to her.
But the cosmetics didnt disappear; more tubes appeared.
Later Margaret saw the kitchen rearranged cups not where shed left them, pots shuffled.
Pippa, did you move this? she asked calmly.
Yes, I tidied up. Its more sensible this way, isnt it?
It was sensible my way.
Its impractical now heavy pots up high, light ones down low. Im doing it right.
Margaret kept quiet and put everything back as she liked. That evening Pippa rearranged it again. A silent war over kitchen layout erupted.
Andrew, can you talk to her? Margaret pleaded.
Its just a matter of where things sit.
It matters to me! Im used to it!
She also wants convenience.
This is my kitchen!
Its now ours, Andrew said and left.
The flat was now truly shared.
Pippa slowly filled the space with her magazines, her shoes in the hallway, her bags on the balcony. Margaret felt herself being edged out of her own home but kept quiet, not wanting to sour her relationship with her son.
One day she came home to find two unfamiliar women on the kitchen table, laughing loudly over coffee.
Who are they? Margaret asked Pippa.
My friends. Were rehearsing a dance, we need the space.
You could have told us.
Why? This is our shared flat, Im also a lady of the house.
Those words hit Margaret like a slap. She stood, stunned, unable to reply.
Mrs Ivanova, please come in, one of the friends smiled.
Thanks, Ill retreat to my room, Margaret muttered, closing the door behind her. She sat on the bed, hands shaking.
Lady of the house! She thought, a girl whod only been here a week daring to claim the title.
That evening Andrew came down the hall.
I need to speak with you. Urgently.
Whats wrong?
Lets go to the kitchen.
They sat down. Pippa was in her room, the door shut.
Andrew, your girlfriend brought friends over without warning.
So what?
How can you say that? This is my flat!
Mum, youre starting again.
Im not starting anything! She said this is a shared flat and that shes the lady of the house!
Andrew frowned. She didnt mean to offend you. She just phrased it poorly.
Poorly? She says shes the lady of the house in my home!
She lives here, so she feels at home.
But its not her home!
Whose then? Only yours? I dont live here, do I?
You do, youre my son. And she
Shes my girlfriend. I want her comfortable.
And I dont matter?
Andrew stood, eyes flashing.
Mum, enough. Youre just jealous because a woman is near me.
What? Im not jealous! I just want respect in my own house!
Then respect others too!
He stormed off. Margaret was left in the kitchen, fighting back tears.
The next day she phoned Lydia again.
Lydia, I told you it would be hard.
You said thered be enough room for everyone!
I meant physically. Psychologically its always tough when a stranger moves in.
What should I do?
Talk to her. Explain whats bothering you.
She wont listen!
Then go through me. Let Andrew speak to her.
But Andrew was clearly siding with Pippa. Margaret felt betrayed.
Another week passed. Pippa grew bolder, strolling around in shorts and a tee, blasting music, hogging the bathroom for an hour. Margaret endured it, but tension rose.
The climax came on a Saturday. Margaret was rolling out pastry dough on the kitchen table when Pippa walked in.
Mrs Ivanova, could you clear the table? I need to put my laptop on it.
Im busy, as you can see.
So? I urgently need to work.
Do it in your room.
Andrew is sleeping there. I dont want to wake him.
Im baking a cake. I need the table.
I need the table for work. The cake can wait.
Margaret felt something snap inside.
No, the cake wont wait. This is my kitchen, my table, and I decide what happens here!
Pippa crossed her arms.
We already agreed this flat is shared, so the table is shared too.
Its not shared! Its my flat and Im the lady of the house! Only me!
As you wish, Pippa smirked. Just remember I live with Andrew, and hes your son. Eventually this flat will be ours too.
What?! Margarets face went pale.
Just think about it. One day itll be mine when we marry.
Get out! Margaret shouted. Leave my house right now!
Is this to me? Pippa didnt flinch.
You! Pack your things and go!
Im staying because Andrew allows me to, not you. Im not going anywhere.
Andrew rushed in.
Whats happening?
Your mother is trying to kick me out, Pippa said, feigning hurt.
Im kicking her out! Margaret gasped. She said the flat will soon be hers!
Andrew looked at Pippa. Did you say that?
I was just stating a fact, she shrugged. Its obvious the flat will eventually belong to you.
Pippa, thats inappropriate.
Why? Were adults.
Because this is my mothers house. As long as shes alive and well, no one can talk about inheritance!
Pippa winced. Sorry, Mrs Ivanova. I didnt mean to offend.
Its too late, Margaret sniffed. Andrew, either she leaves, or I do.
Mum, dont issue ultimatums.
Im serious. I cant live like this. She doesnt respect me and now talks about inheritance!
Mom?
Decide, Andrew. Her or me.
Margaret stormed into her room, slammed the door, and sat on the bed, head in her hands, tears streaming. Shed given her whole life to her son, raised him alone, worked herself to the bone, funded his education, always supported him. And now he was choosing between her and a girl hed known only six months.
Muffled voices drifted from the hallway Andrew and Pippa were talking. Then silence.
She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what would happen next. Would the girl leave or would she have to move out?
A knock sounded.
Mum, its me. Can I come in?
Come in.
Andrew entered, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Pippa is packing her things. Shell leave today.
Margaret sat up, startled.
Really?
Yes. I talked to her, explained that her behaviour was wrong. She didnt agree at first, but I insisted.
Did you apologise?
Im sorry, Mum. I didnt expect it to get this out of hand.
I didnt want a fight, Margaret said, wiping her eyes. I really didnt.
I know. Im to blame. I acted too quickly. I should have waited.
Do you love her?
Andrew hesitated. I thought I did. Now I see shes selfish and thoughtless.
Maybe shes just young.
Youre right. Youth isnt an excuse for rudeness.
He stood. Ill help her get her bags to the car, then we can talk.
Margaret watched the rustling of suitcases, the clunk of the front door closing. The flat fell silent once more.
Looks like the cake is ruined, she sighed.
Itll be fine. Youll bake another one.
They sat down for tea. Outside, the street lights flickered on.
Margaret felt a weight lift. The nightmare had ended, at least for now. She knew eventually Andrew would find another partner, maybe marry, and the question of space would crop up again.
Mom, what are you thinking about? Andrew asked.
Just life, she replied.
You dont have to worry. Ill look for my own place. Ill move out, but Ill still visit for tea and cake.
Tea and cake, Margaret smiled. Sounds perfect. No one will disturb us then.
The next day Andrew went to work, and Margaret lingered at home, tidying up after Pippas brief stay clearing the bathroom of unfamiliar lotions, putting the kitchenware back where it belonged, taking the stray boxes off the balcony.
The flat was once again hers, only hers.
Later that evening Lydia called.
So, hows it going?
Pippa has left.
Completely?
Yes. We argued, and Andrew asked her to go.
How do you feel?
Strange. I got what I wanted, but it feels empty.
Thats because hell eventually leave anyway.
I know.
Maybe you should have let her stay a bit longer? Heard what she said?
Shell inherit the flat when we get married. I was livid.
Maybe she was just defending herself. She felt unwelcome, so she fought back.
I remember my own motherinlaw being like that when I first moved in. It took years before we became friends.
Exactly. Sometimes the first months are rough, but they can improve.
Maybe its too late now.
Its never too late. Call her, try to talk like adults.
Im not sure
Think of your son. He loves her.
After thatShe lifted the receiver, dialed Pippas number, and, with a tentative smile, whispered, Lets try again, for Andrews sake..
