He Will Live Among Us…

**Diary Entry 12th October**

The doorbell rang, sharp and unwelcome, announcing visitors. Margaret set aside her apron, wiped her hands, and answered. Her daughter stood on the doorstep with a young man. She let them inside.

“Hi, Mum,” her daughter said, kissing her cheek. “This is Davehes going to live with us now.”
“Pleasure,” the young man said politely.
“And this is my mum, Auntie Margaret.”
“Margaret Whitaker,” she corrected.
“Mum, whats for dinner?”
“Mashed peas and bangers.”
“I dont eat mashed peas,” Dave replied, kicking off his trainers and heading to the living room.
“But Mum, Dave doesnt like peas,” her daughter said, widening her eyes.

He flopped onto the sofa and tossed his rucksack aside.
“Thats actually my spot,” Margaret said.
“Dave, come on, Ill show you where well stay,” Emily called.
“I like it here,” he grumbled, reluctantly standing.
“Mum, think of something else for Dave to eat.”
“Dunno. Theres half a pack of sausages left,” Margaret shrugged.
“Thatll dowith mustard, ketchup, and some bread,” he declared.
“Fine,” Margaret muttered, heading to the kitchen. “First, it was stray kittens and puppies. Now this. And Im supposed to feed him too.”

She dished herself mashed peas, plated two fried bangers, added salad, and ate hungrily.
“Mum, why are you eating alone?” Emily asked, stepping in.
“Because I just got home from work, and Im starving,” Margaret said around a bite. “If anyones hungry, they can help themselves. And while were at itwhy is Dave moving in?”
“What dyou mean? Hes my husband.”

“Your what?!”
“Yeah. Your daughters grown up. Im nineteenI decide when I marry.”
“You didnt even invite me.”
“We just did the registry office. No fuss. But now were man and wife, were living together,” Emily said, watching her chew.
“Congratulations, then. But no wedding?”
“If youve got money for a wedding, hand it over. Wed put it to good use.”
“Right. And why *here*?”
“Because his flats crammed with four people already.”
“So renting was never an option?”
“Why rent when Ive got a room here?” Emily said, baffled.
“Got it.”
“Can you make us something?”
“Emily, the peas are on the hob, sausages in the pan. If thats not enough, theres half a pack in the fridge. Sort yourselves out.”

“Mum, you dont get ityouve got a SON-IN-LAW now,” Emily stressed.
“And? Should I do a jig? Im knackered from workno celebrations tonight. Youve got hands; manage on your own.”
“No wonder youre single!” Emily shot her a glare, slammed her bedroom door. Margaret finished eating, washed up, wiped the table, and changed for the gym. Most evenings, she swam or lifted weights.

By ten, she returned, craving teaonly to find the kitchen wrecked. Someone had attempted cooking. The pot lid was missing, the peas dried and cracked. Sausage wrappers littered the table beside stale bread. The frying pan was scorched, scraped with a fork. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, and a sticky puddle gleamed on the floor. The flat reeked of cigarettes.

“New habit. Emily never did this before.”
She pushed open her daughters door. The pair were drinking wine, smoking.
“Emily, clean the kitchen. And buy a new pan tomorrow,” Margaret said, leaving the door ajar.

Emily leapt up, chasing her.
“Why should we? And where do I get money for a pan? Im a student, not working. Care more about dishes than us?”
“You know the rules: Clean up after yourself, replace what you break. My house, my rules.”
“You dont want us here.”
“No,” Margaret said evenly.

Shed never argued with Emily like this before.
“But part of this place is mine!”
“No, the flats mine. I worked for it. Youre just registered here. Solve your problems on your own dime. Follow the rules or leave.”
“Ive lived by your rules forever. Im married nowyou dont control me,” Emily snapped. “Youve had your life; hand the flat over.”
“Youre welcome to the hallway bench outside. Married? Didnt ask. Stay alone or take your husband elsewhere. Hes not living here.”

“Keep your flat. Dave, were leaving,” Emily yelled, shoving clothes into a bag.
Minutes later, the drunk son-in-law stumbled into Margarets room.
“Chill, Mum. Well keep it down, yeah?” he slurred.
“What Mum? Your parents are alivego home. Take your wife with you.”
“Yeah, Ill” He raised a fist.
“Go on, then.”

Margaret gripped his wrist, nails digging in.
“Ow! Let go, you nutter!”
“Mum, stop!” Emily screamed, pulling at her.
Margaret shoved her aside, kneed Dave, then elbowed his throat.
“Ill sue you!” he whined.
“Wait, Ill call the copsmake it easier,” she shot back.

The pair fled the cosy two-bed flat.
“Youre not my mother anymore!” Emily shouted. “Youll never see your grandkids!”
“What a loss,” Margaret said drily. “Finally, peace.” She glanced at her handsmanicure ruined. “Nothing but trouble.”

After they left, she scrubbed the kitchen, binned the ruined pan, and changed the locks.
Three months later, she bumped into Emily at work. Her daughter looked gaunt, hollow-cheeked.
“Mum whats for dinner?” she asked.
“Dunno. Fancy anything?”
“Roast chicken and rice,” Emily whispered. “And a prawn cocktail.”
“Lets get chicken, then,” Margaret said. “You make the salad.”

**Lesson:** Boundaries arent cruelty. Sometimes the kindest no saves you both.