The New Daughter-in-Law Insisted Her Unborn Baby Needs Its Own Room, So Now Mum and I Have to Move Out of Our Bedroom

I dreamt a peculiar thing about my brotherthat he hadnt married very wisely. At the beginning, I genuinely tried to keep things civil with my new sister-in-law, Felicity. My brother and Felicity moved in with my mother and me for a stretch. From that day, I was shuffled off to a tiny box room, Mother relocated to the lounge, and we surrendered the master bedroom to the happy couple. Felicity, as if enchanted, swiftly insistedwith a tilt of her head and an air about herthat we were somehow beneath her. She reminded us, almost without words, that she was the daughter of a lecturer at Cambridge.

Felicity claimed chores and cooking were not for her, breezily noting she wasnt the housekeeper in clipped tones. When she fell pregnant, she declared she needed absolute serenity. Mother, peaceable as a pond, observed all this in silence, not one for fuss. Even inviting a friend over felt impossible, as Felicitys presence hung over the house like a thick English fog.

She asked for elaborate, special meals and undisturbed quietthe sort of fare youd expect at a country manor, not in a London terrace. Poor Mother had to cook two sets of mealsone for the expecting lady and another for the rest. More than once, I spoke quietly with Mum, urging her not to bend over backward for Felicity, who daily became bolder and brasher. As the due date loomed, Felicity said her unborn baby must, quite rightly, have a nursery all of its own. She wanted me to move in with Mum on the sofa. Id reached my limit. Felicity eruptedwailing, shrieking, as if wed conspired to force an early birth. My brother leapt, as though under a spell, to defend Felicity, calling me childish.

In the end, Mum told my brother he needed to sort out their living arrangements. At last, they left. I never really knew when their son arrived or when he was christened. Felicity told us not to bother with gifts, only to hand over cash for the baby. She even announced the exact sum in pounds she expected.

Mother quietly explained she couldnt afford such money. The result: we werent allowed to see the child. Mum was downcast at first, but soon enough, they began popping round with the boy. Sometimes Felicity herself would drop him off with us while she dashed to catch up with friends over a coffee or nip out for a manicure. But she always returned with complaints: the child had been dressed all wrong or not fed how she would have wished.

When the child turned one, my brother and Felicity came for a visit. It was clear as a dream that the issue of a place to live still haunted them. They couldnt get a mortgage, so Felicity announced she would have to workand I should watch the child for free in the meantime.

Youre training to be a teacher, arent you? Think of it as work experience. Its too hard living on just your brothers salary. We cant pay you, of course. University? Well, you could switch to part-time study, that would free you up, Felicity said, as if proposing that rain fall upwards.

Naturally, I refused.

I couldnt explain that their tangled life wasnt my concern. Why should I give up my own future for someone elses mess? Yet still, I had to endure Felicitys reproaches for not minding her offspring.

She called us selfish and stormed out, vowing never to return. Truly, for half a year they were gone. One day, my brother wandered back in. He said Felicity had found a job and met another man theresomeone already married, as it happened. She divorced my brother and demanded child support. Now she threatened that if he paid, he could see his son; if not, hed never see the boy again. Felicitys new beau, meanwhile, was in no rush to make her his wife, being already wed himself.

So now, in this bizarre dreamscape, my brothers ex-wife still lives in a rented flat somewhere off the high street, rent still paid by my brother. My brother apologised to us, saying next time, hed mind more carefully whom he chose to marry.