A Flat for Two? Count Me Out!

Twobed flat? Not a chance for me!
Ill put the lease in Graces name and move in with you. Youre living alone anyway, Nora said, never asking a word.

Whose deepvoiced man is that youve got on the line? Her tone was sharp, as if Mabel were thirteen, not thirtytwo.

Just the telly, Mum. What do you want? Mabel tried to cut the conversation short.

We need to talk. Seriously, her mother insisted, then hung up. Typical of her she only observed, never questioned.

Arthur! Mabel shouted, flinging the phone onto the settee.

Whats the matter? He emerged from the kitchen, two mugs of tea in his hands.

My mothers coming this evening.

Should I stay?

No need. Ill handle it alone.

**Ghosts of the Past**

Memories sit like photographs in an album some fade, the core stays vivid. Mabel was eleven when her parents split. Her sister Grace was still playing with dolls, while Mabel had already learned to read the adults subtext.

I cant go on, Eleanor, her father had said. Its no longer a marriage, just a shadow of one.

And the children? Her mothers voice rang like broken glass.

After the divorce, Father quietly packed his things his favourite armchair, the chipped mug, even his books vanished one by one.

Mabel became the bridge between two worlds: her mothers sternness and her fathers quiet. Grace simply branded Father a traitor and Mother a martyr.

**Adult Life**

Mabel moved to university in London. She studied hard, worked harder, determined to own a flat of her own one day. Grace took a few courses, became a nail technician and married almost at once.

Father died, leaving only fond recollections and an emptiness.

Mother only resurfaced to demand money or lodge complaints:

Grace is pregnant, help her. Tom earns little, and the salon barely gives her a proper contract

Mabel sighed, exhausted.

She knew what she was getting into. That was her choice.

**Her Own Nest**

Years later Mabel finally bought her dream flat all on her own, with sweat and tears.

Lovely flat, her mother remarked, surveying the rooms. Grace could use something like this instead of a cramped council house with a baby And you sit here alone in this palace. Its not fair.

Because Grace always thought she was owed something. I earned this.

Then, years after that, came an unexpected visit:

Ive decided the flat goes to Grace. Ill move in with you, her mother said, smiling, inspecting every corner.

No, Mabel replied curtly. Its my flat.

What do you mean no? Ive already decided!

Then live with Grace. This isnt a hotel.

Youre as cold as your father!

Thanks. He loved me. He never set conditions.

The door slammed. Silence settled, followed by a wave of relief.

On her handset a message blinked:

How did it turn out?

Mabel smiled:

Come over. Ill teach you how to make tiramisu.