My Apartment Available for Rent

My Flat is Up For Rent

Natalie Jane Orfordnow Mrs. Gloverhad always believed the most frightening thing in life was when something good started so quietly, almost without notice, and just as gently, but inevitably, faded away. Like flowers on the windowsill: you water them, they keep on standing, then one day, the leaves are yellow and it’s already too late.

She caught the scent the moment she hit the stairwell.

Heavy, thick, a sweet-powdery perfume. “Evening Rose”. The exact one she could never mistakeher mother-in-law, Patricia Glover, wore it for as long as she’d known her. It clung to clothes, to hair, to memory.

Natalie paused at her own door, keys in hand.

Four oclock in the afternoon. Shed left work earlier than usualHelen from Finance said she looked dreadfully pale and shooed her home. Her head had been throbbing since morning, ringing like a slow, vice-like pressure. She only wanted to take a pill, crawl under a blanket, and sleep.

But that scent said otherwise.

She opened the door.

Three cardboard boxes stood in the hall, each originally home to a fridge. Large, stamped with “MEKO” along the sides. One was already taped shut, while the others still gaped open, their contents covered with newspaper.

Rattling, the clink of crockery, and a low mutter drifted in from the kitchen.

***

Mrs. Glover? Natalie called out, not moving from the threshold. Whats going on?

The sounds stopped. A moment later, Patricia Glover appeared in the kitchen doorway. Solid, well-built, fifty-seven, her hair tidy, wearing rubber gloves and a floral apron over a pale suit. Her expression was business-like, nearly ceremonial.

Natalie, love! Patricia called out, in that gentle nurses-well-meaning warning tone. Youre home early. Not feeling well?

Whats happening here? Natalie didnt budge.

Lets not get worked up Patricia removed her gloves, folding them with care. Im doing this for you both. For you and Jamie. Have a seat and I’ll explain.

I’ll stand. Explain.

Patricia narrowed her eyes, just a fraction. She was used to obediencehaving been Head Nurse at St. Johns on the High Road for twenty-three years. Her word was an instruction, not a suggestion.

Alright then, she gestured towards the kitchen. At least dont block the door. Ill put the kettle on.

No need. Whats in the boxes?

Patricia sighed, with the air of one used to others’ fussiness. Kitchen stuff. Some pans, pots. I wrapped the crystal glasses separately in bubble wrap, dont worry. Plates are out, well leave them for the tenants.

Natalie caught that phraseall of it: “for the tenants.” She heard it settle deep in her chest.

“What tenants?” she asked flatly.

“I’ve found tenants,” Patricia announced, bright as if delivering good news. “A young couple, with a child about five. Hes in construction, shes at home with the little one. Decent people. Ive checked them over, had a chat. They’re moving in on Friday.”

“Friday,” Natalie repeated. “Thats in three days.”

Three days, yes. Weve already arranged the deposit. They’re paying the first and last months rent up front.

Natalie placed her bag on the hallway table, unbuttoned her coat, and hung it up. Every movement was an effort. Her head still ached, but now a chill crept into her fingers, despite the flat being warm.

Mrs. Glover, she said eventually, Did you discuss this with James?

Of course. We went over it together, you must remember? Three months back, when Jamie lost his bonus? I suggested we rent this flat out, you two move in with me, build up some savings. Perfectly sensible.

We didnt agree, Natalie shook her head. I said no.

You said youd think about it, Patricia said gently.

No. I said no. Jamie asked me not to make a scene, so I kept quiet. Thats not agreement.

Patricia folded her armsher settling-in pose, signaling her mind was made up and outside input was unnecessary.

Natalie, youre a bright woman. Youre an accountantyou can do the maths. How much does the mortgage take every month?

Thats not your concern.

Natalie.

No. Natalie’s voice was measured, not raised. Our finances are not your concern.

Silence hovered in the hall. From the kitchen window, the distant hum of London drifted in. Below, a tram rattled down Muswell Hill.

You’re entitled to an opinion, of course, Patricia finally said, now that unmistakable edge in her voiceusually masked by her practical concernmade itself heard. But it’s not just about you. Its about Jamie. And Jamie has agreed.

Ill call him. Natalie pulled out her phone.

***

He picked up on the third ring. She could hear the factory rumble in the background.

Hi, Nat. Everything alright? Youre home early.

James, your mother is packing our flat. She says youve found tenants. She says theyre moving in Friday.

A beat. One, two heartbeats.

Nat, I meant to tell you myself

You knew?

Mum called last night, said she found someone. I thought you two would talk

James. Natalie leaned her head against the hallway wall. You knew and you said nothing. I walk in and find boxes packed. Do you understand what that means?

“Nat, I know you’re upset

Come home.

I’ve got a meeting at six

James, her voice was quiet, controlled, steady as water behind a dam. Come home now.

He walked in at half five. By then, Natalie had moved to the kitchen with a mug of cold tea. Patricia was in the lounge, rearranging ornaments shed hauled over from Harrow to make it homelier.

James was tall, fair, a slightly apologetic look fixed to his faceone Natalie now saw more often than not. He worked as a project engineer out at the plant in Enfielda tiring commute, a lot on his plate. Natalie knew this, usually cut him some slack. Today, there were no allowances.

Nat he started, stepping into the kitchen.

Sit.

He pulled up a chair. She picked up her cup, put it back down.

Explain to me how decisions about our flat are being made without me.

Theres been no decision taken he brightened, as if spotting an escape route. Mum just found a possible let. I thought youd sort it between you

I did. Shes packing our things. Thats just found a possible let?

Nat, you dont get itthings are tight

Go on.

I lost my bonussix weeks ago. Weve been losing money since. The mortgage, council tax, groceries, my car on finance. Were not keeping up, Nat.

She listened. It was all true. They were more careful with money lately. But it wasnt life or death. She had a steady job at ‘Alpha Accounts’. They managed.

I suggested cutting backpostponing the New Year break. Cancelling your gym, just for a bit. Remember?

I remember.

That would have covered it.

Mum says it wouldnt.

And what do you think?

He was silent. That said more than any words.

James, she moved closer. Do you know whose flat this is?

Come on, Nat

No. Im asking. Whose flat?

On paper its in your name, but were a family”

Its not on paper. Dad gave me this flat. Three months before our wedding. Its mine. By law, by deed. Neither you nor Patricia has any right to rent it out without my written consent. In fact, its a criminal offenceyou know that?

He blinked. Plainly, he hadnt thought that far.

Nat, you wouldn’t go to the police on your own husband

It isnt about the police, James. Its the fact you’ve let your mother organize things that arent hersand kept quiet about it. Why?

Footsteps in the hall. Patricia appeared in the kitchen. Natalie expected that.

James, his mother said, Good. Now, explain to Natalie that this is sensible. She doesnt seem to understand the full situation.

Mum, give us a minute.

What for? Patricia planted herself by the window. The tenants are waiting on our answer. Good people dont hang about. If we say no, theyll go elsewhere, and we wont get another chance.

Mrs. Glover, Natalie said. My answer is no. I am not letting the flat. Were not moving in with you. Thats final.

Patricia stared at her, long and hard. Then turned to her son.

James. You hear that?

Mum, maybe shes right

James. The tone grew sharper. Ive spent three days arranging this. Viewings set for tomorrow. Want to throw it all out over her stubbornness?

Not her stubbornness, James said quietly. Nat, you explain

Natalie stood, cleared her cup to the sink. Then turned back.

Therell be no viewing tomorrow. The tenants wont move in Friday. If Patricia brings them anyway, Ill explain to their faces why they cant stay here. Goodnight.

She headed to the bedroom and closed the door. It didnt slam. Just clicked quietly.

***

The night was rough. James came to bed just before eleven. They lay at opposite edges, neither willing to break the silence. Natalie listened to his breathingsteady, maybe he was even feigning sleep. She didnt sleep. She thought.

Her father had once told her, “Natalie, when you want to solve a problem, look at it from a distance. Up close, its always more frightening than it truly is.”

Hed been gone four years. The flat he’d left her wasnt just a giftit was protection. Hed known she was his only child. Her mother lived up in Chelmsford. His daughter needed an anchor.

The anchor sat boxed.

No, not sat. The boxes existed, sure, but the anchor was the paperwork in the glass cabinet, in a blue plastic folder she’d packed on move-in day and never shifted: the Land Registry Title, the Deed of Gift, all with stamps, all with signatures.

Tomorrow, Patricia would bring the tenantsNatalie knew it as certainly as shed wake and make coffee. Her mother-in-law didnt make idle threats. It was her strengthand her weakness. She didnt know how to back down.

Natalie couldbut only if there was reason. There wasnt this time.

James shifted behind her. Natalie didnt turn. Neither did he. They laythe two of them with a year of married life, a bathroom theyd redone together, the Christmas tree theyd put up themselves for the first time, two sets of keys to a single door.

Natalie thought, love wasnt only about the good days. It showed up in choices. Now he lay beside her, silent. What did it mean?

She didnt know.

That was harder than the boxes.

***

Natalie got up at seven as usual, by the alarm. James was asleep. She made coffee, drinking it at the window. March in Crouch End is miserable: the snow turned dirty, the pavements wet, trees by the tube station black and bare.

Her headache was gone. Good.

She cracked open the cabinet, got the blue folder, set it out on the table. Checked the documents: Land Registry, freshly stamped. Deed of Gifttwo years old. Owner: Natalie Jane Orford. All there.

She closed the folder, put it back.

At half nine her mother rang from Chelmsford. Natalie answered latenot to avoid her, but for fear she’d crack the moment her mother spoke.

How are you, love?

Fine, Mum.

You dont sound iteverything alright?

Alls well.

A pause.

James called last night, Mum said. Said somethings up with his mother about your flat.

Natalie closed her eyes.

He called you?

Yes, he was quite upsetsays he doesnt know what to do.

Mum, hell need to choose where he stands.

Natalie, her mother paused. James is a good man. He’s just lived with her for thirty years. That doesnt change overnight.

I know.

Are you coping?

I am.

If you need me, Ill come down. Just say.

Natalie felt a constriction in her throat. She cleared it.

No need, Mum. Ill manage.

Alright. You know the flats yours, love. Thats not up for debate.

I know.

She hung up. James shuffled out at ten, poured himself a coffee wordlessly. She stood by the window, open book in hand, not reading.

“Nat,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Mum called. She’ll be over about twelve. To show the tenants round.”

“I heard you yesterday.”

“Maybe just see them? Speak to them? You might like them”

She turned away from the window.

“James. Are you really trying to persuade me to rent my flat to people Ive never even met, on terms you and your mother settled without me?”

“I just… Mum made such an effort.”

“James,” she kept her tone soft. “Are you hearing yourself? Its Mum madenot we decided’, not you and I agreed. Is this her flat? Her call?”

He set his cup down, rubbed his brow.

“I don’t know how to not upset her.”

“But you can upset me?”

No reply.

Natalie went back to her book. She couldnt focusthe lines swam, but she needed something to hold on to.

***

They arrived at half past twelve.

Natalie heard the intercom, then Patricias voicebrisk, in charge. The lift buzzed, delivering its cargo.

James leaned by the balcony door, watching outside. Natalie sat on the couch. The blue folder remained in the glass cupboard.

The bell rang.

James moved as if to answer.

“Stay,” Natalie told him.

He froze, looking at her with a mix of confusion, relief, and something elseshame or perhaps gratitude.

The bell went again.

Natalie rose, crossed the hall, and opened the door.

Patricia stood on the mat in her best coat, silver buttons shining. Behind her, a couple in their late twenties or so; he in a jacket, she in a red puffer; and between them, a little boy with teddy bear ears on his hat. The boy fixed her with a solemn stare.

“Natalie, dear!” Patricia breezed in, unsummoned. “This is Mark and Lucya lovely young family. Mark’s in building, Lucys at home with little Ollie.”

“Hi,” Lucy mumbled, a trace embarrassed. “Sorry to drop in out of the blue”

“Not to worry,” Natalie replied evenly. “Come in.”

She stepped aside. They entered. The boy continued his serious gaze.

“Is James here?” Patricia called, eyes front.

“Living room.”

“Good. Mark, let me show you around. Living rooms dual-aspect, very handy. Tubes close, lots of shops”

She led the way, explaining about the ceilings, the wiring. Natalie followed at a distance.

James nodded at the visitors, awkward, avoiding her eyes.

See Patricia gestured, Lounge is twenty square metres. Master bedrooms nearly as big. The kitchens not massive but very efficient. New cooker, Natalie bought it last year

Mark nodded, looking about. Lucy kept Ollie by the hand. Natalie lingered by the cabinet.

As for rent, Patricia began, I think fifty-five hundred is reasonable

Excuse me.

Natalies voice was calm. She opened the cabinet and took out the blue folder.

All eyes turned.

Mark, Lucy. She approached the couple. Before you decide, I need to show you something.

She withdrew two sheets, offering the first.

This is Land Registry. Printed last week. See here’Registered Proprietor’?

Lucy took it, read. Looked up.

Natalie Jane Orford, she read aloud.

My maiden name. Thats me. Natalie handed the second sheet. Deed of Gift. My father gave me this flat before our wedding, two years ago. I alone own it. My husband isnt on the deeds. Mrs Glover has no claim here.

Lucy gently handed the papers to Mark.

Natalie, Patricia started, Youre making a scene

Mark, Natalie continued, not looking at her mother-in-law. Letting this property legally requires my consent. In writing. I havent given it. Not verbally, not in writing. If you move in under any other agreement, its illegal. You need to know that.

Mark glanced at the documents, then at Natalie. Ollie whispered something at his mums ear; Lucy bent to him.

We… didnt know, Lucy said. We were told the owner agreed.

Shes standing in front of you, Natalie said. And she doesnt agree.

A long pause.

Well, Mark cleared his throat. In that case… well go. Sorry to trouble you.

He handed back the papers. Natalie took them.

Please wait! Patricia stepped forward, her tone sharp now, stripped of the kindly nurse. Mark, dont leavethis is a misunderstanding. Ill just

Mrs Glover, James broke in.

They all looked to him.

He stood by the window, hands in pockets. His face was wretched, but resolved.

Mum, he said. Theyre right. They should leave.

His mother stared.

What?

Theyre leaving. This is Natalies flat. I… should’ve said that sooner.

Thick silence.

Lucy took Ollies hand. Mark nodded to Natalieshort and matter-of-fact. They saw themselves out; the door clicked behind them.

Three remained.

***

Patricia watched her son for a long time. Natalie stood, folder in hand.

James, her mother-in-laws voice was lowand from that, Natalie felt a chill. Do you understand what youve just done?

I do, Mum.

You chose her. Over me.

I chose what’s right.

Right. Patricia repeated it as if tasting something bitter. So I was wrong?

In this case, yes, Mum.

I worked my whole life for you. Brought you up alone from six when your father left. Worked double shifts, never had things for myself

Mum, I know.

You know! You know what I wanted? For you to be comfortable, for you and Natalie to want for nothing. I found those tenants, arranged everything”

“You did that without asking the owner,” James said. “Without asking her.”

“Owner,” Patricia sneered, eyes flicking to Natalie. “Is that it? Youre married, youre a family. Arent these things to be shared?”

“Mrs. Glover,” Natalie replied, measured. “Im happy to discuss financeswith my husband. Within our family. Not via ultimatums that exclude me.”

Ultimatums! Patricia threw up her hands. Can you hear yourself? I only wanted to help.

I know. But help that isnt requested isn’t help. Thats interference.

Interference! She rounded on her son. “Hear that, James? That’s what she thinks of me. I interfere. That’s gratitude.”

“Mum.”

“No,” she lifted a hand. “Noit’s time to choose. You listen to your motherthe one who raised youor you stay with this woman who says I interfere. Choose.”

Natalie didn’t move, but watched James. He stood in the centre of the roomthe room they’d chosen curtains together for, laughing at their indecision; put up a wonky bookshelf, a wedding photograph in its white frame.

He looked at his mother.

Im staying, he said softly.

Patricia took a while to absorb.

What?

Im staying. Here. With Natalie. I love you, Mum. I truly do. But this isnt right. You cant do things this way.

You cant?

No. You cant turn up here unannounced. You cant pack our things. You cant arrange tenants without the owner’s go-ahead. I should have said this before. It’s my failing too.”

Patricia stood for a long time, then slipped on her coat meticulously, buttoning each button. Collected her bag.

“You’ll regret this,” she mutterednot a threat, just fate pronounced.

“Maybe,” James replied. “But its the right thing.”

She left for the hall. No one tried to stop her. The lock snicked, the door bangedharder this time.

Then, silence.

***

They lingered in the lounge. James near the window, Natalie by the cupboardfolder still in hand. One box of pans remained, taped in the corner. The other two stood in the hall.

Outside, the sleet still drove.

Natalie slid the folder back onto the shelf. She sat. James waited, then joined her, not close but not distant.

Nat?

Just give it a second, she said.

They sat in silence. Natalie stared at the slant of the bookshelf; James at his hands.

I should have told her no straight off, he finally said. When she called last night, I should have just said, ‘Mum, leave it.’ I didnt.”

Why?

He hesitated a long time.

Ive never learned to say no to her. Not really. You know what she’s likeshe doesn’t shout, she just looks like youve broken her heart. Since I was a boy, Ive never managed that. Its easier to give in.

I know, Natalie said softly. I get that its hard. But youre not six any more.

I know, he nodded. I know. And today… I think I did the right thing. But shes still my mother.

Shell still be your mother.

Shell hold this against us for a fair while.

Likely.

And itll hurt.

Yes, Natalie didn’t sugar-coat it. It probably will.

He nodded, rubbing his brow.

What now?

I dont know, she said honestly. We need to talk. Not today. When things settle. Finances, how were going to manage. Thats a separate conversation. Im ready for it.

And Mum?

Thats a different conversation. Also later.

Another pause.

Are you angry?

Natalie considerednot out of politeness, but to really check her feelings.

Im tired, she said. I was angry this morning. Not now. Just tired.

Nat, I

James. She turned to him. You did what you had to today. That matters. But today is only today. You know what I mean?

He did. She saw it in his eyes.

I do.

Alright.

She gazed across at the bookshelf, slightly askew; the white wedding photo; the taped box in the corner.

Shall we unpack the boxes? she asked.

Yeah. Lets.

***

They unpacked in silence. Natalie unwrapped pans, stacking them onto shelves. James freed the crystal glasses from bubble wrap.

The flat still smelled of someone else’s perfume. “Evening Rose” lingered like a ghost that would not air away. Natalie cracked a window; sharp March air swept in.

The little boy with teddy bear ears was probably already on the bus home, peering out the windowunaware he’d sat in the midst of someone else’s turning point.

She thought of her mothers words: “He spent thirty years with her. That doesn’t change overnight.” True. It didnt. Today, James had said noonce, for the first time.

That didnt mean it would be that way forever.

That didnt mean their lives would be simple now.

But it mattered.

She set the last pan in place. Gathered up the newspaper, binned it.

Coffee? James looked over.

Go on.

He went to the kitchen. Natalie picked up the wedding frame from the window-ledge. Studied it. Both looked slightly stunnedher dress not quite the colour shed wanted, his tie off halfway through the evening. Smiling, properly.

A year had passed.

She put the photo back.

Fresh coffee floated in from the kitchena welcome, familiar scent.

She joined him at the table. He poured her mug, set his down, sat opposite.

The sleet kept at the windows.

They drank in silence. It was a heavy silence, but not emptyrather, carrying all that would still need to be said. She could feel that as keenly as the cold in her hands that morning.

But right now, no words were necessary.

Right now, there was coffee. An open window. A crooked bookshelf full of books in the next room.

And the blue folder, exactly where it belonged.

***

Itd be nice to say this was the hardest part over witha neat storys ending. But after five years in ‘Alpha Accounts’, Natalie knew: balance sheets dont settle instantly. Sometimes the numbers don’t add up, and you have to hunt for the mistake before things click back into place.

Probably the same for families.

Patricia would ring eventuallytomorrow, or next week. She never left for good, simply waited to be brought back.

James would be torn. That was clear to Natalie.

Moneyhis missed bonus, the mortgagenone of that had vanished.

A talk lay ahead, a long, honest one neither of them had yet learned to finish properly. Maybe today had started to shift things.

She couldnt say.

James set his mug down.

Nat.

Yes?

Im glad you stayed. Even when I said daft things. You stayedand did the right thing.

She looked at him.

I couldnt do anything else, she said simply. This is my home.

He nodded.

Ours, he said.

She paused.

Yes, she said at last. Ours.

The wind outside eased. The sleet no longer smacked at the glass. The sky over Muswell Hill, while far from sunny, lightened just a little.

She lifted her mug. The coffee was cold. She drank it anyway.