Theyll Stay Temporarily
Listen, love, Ive got something to ask…
I braced myself for a long conversation. Whenever Mum started out with that wheedling Lis-ten… drawn out as if it might break, I knew nothing pleasant was about to follow.
Do you remember Emily, Aunt Veras daughter? My second cousin your sort-of distant cousin, too.
Sort of… Mum, I met her once at Grans funeral, ten years ago.
Doesnt matter! Shes still family. Anyway, shes got trouble. She, her husband and son are being chucked out of their rented flat the landlords selling up. Can you imagine?
I rubbed my temples, feeling the dull December afternoon crawl by. The coffee at my elbow cooled as inevitably as my temper.
Mum, thats unfortunate. But, honestly, what am I supposed to do?
Well! Youve got a big three-bedroom flat. Living there on your own! They just need somewhere to stay for a bit, a month or two, until they sort something out…
No.
The word escaped before I could even weigh it up.
What do you mean, no? Mum was genuinely thrown by my frankness. You havent even listened!
Mum, Im not going to let people I barely know invade my home. Especially with a kid. Especially indefinitely.
Indefinitely? I told you temporarily! Two months, tops. Emilys husbands got work, theyll save for a deposit and move out. Rosie, their boys only eight. A child cant be left out in the cold!
They can rent a room. Or a hostel. Or a budget hotel. Something.
With what? Theyre skint! Theyre about to be kicked onto the street, you realise?
Mum, its not my problem.
Then, quite unexpectedly, Mum began to cry. Not theatrically quietly, with faint, stuttering gasps. I closed my eyes.
I dont recognise you, Mum said through tears. Youve become so… cold. A stranger. Your own family in trouble, and you dont care.
Theyre not my family. Theyre yours.
Which means theyre yours, too. Or have you forgotten what family means? What it is to help your own?
Mum, I work from home. I need quiet. I need my own space. I cant live with strangers.
Temporarily. For heavens sake, what does it cost you? Three rooms to yourself, and you sit there like a hermit. You havent even got a cat! At least a cat would liven it up…
Its useful to me. I live here.
Selfish, Mum sobbed. I raised a selfish girl. I never thought my own daughter would refuse kin a bit of bread.
Im not refusing the bread. I am refusing to let strangers into my home.
We circled the same arguments over and over. Mum repeated her points; I stuck to mine. About forty minutes in, I noticed Id already agreed to think about it. Then, soon after, maybe in principle, I could try.
Only a month, I said at last. Two, at most. If anything goes wrong, they leave straightaway.
Of course! Rosie, darling, thank you! You have no idea how grateful I am!
Nausea rose up inside. Not from coffee nor hunger that queasiness you get when you know youve just done something incredibly foolish.
Next morning, the doorbell rang at seven. Sleep deprived and grumpy, I opened up and was swept aside by a tide of suitcases, duffel bags, boxes, and the shrieking of an excited child.
Rosie! Angel! Emily swept past me, landed a noisy kiss on my cheek. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Youve absolutely saved us!
Her husband, a big bloke in trackies, followed with their eight-year-old who dashed off to explore immediately.
Jon, bring in the big bag! Emily yelled.
I counted seven suitcases, four cardboard boxes, and two massive plastic tubs. For a couple of months, this felt a bit much.
Well settle in quickly, Emily assured me. You wont even know were here.
The first fortnight passed in controlled chaos. I hid in my room, tried to work with the TV blaring from the lounge and Rosie pounding up and down the hall. I convinced myself it was only temporary, bearable. Nothing to fuss over.
Then Emily decided to rearrange my kitchen. Its more convenient this way. Jon claimed the balcony for his chill out zone. Rosie broke the bathroom door handle, and nobody seemed interested in fixing it.
Emily, I caught her one evening. We need to talk. Youve been here nearly a month now. Hows the house-hunting going?
Were looking, really! she waved me off, glued to her phone. Prices are mad. But well sort something soon, dont worry.
I need definite dates.
She glanced up. Something in her eyes subtly shifted.
Rosie, where are we supposed to go? Sleep rough with a child?
Im not suggesting that. Im just…
Were looking! She raised her voice. What do you want from us, sleep at the station?
Jon came in.
Is there a problem?
I took them both in faces no longer grateful, no longer sheepish.
No problem, I replied. And retreated to my room.
Of course there were problems. They multiplied daily. Jon occupied the bathroom every morning when I needed it before client calls. Emily shifted my food to the bottom fridge shelf; hers took the top easier to reach. Rosie started blasting cartoons at full volume at 7am every weekend.
My work was in fits and starts. I fell asleep to the TV murmuring in the lounge. Woke to crashes in the hallway as Jon dropped things.
One day I returned from Tesco to find my desk covered in Rosies toys. Emily, lounging in my chair, was scrolling through something on her phone.
Oh, youre back, she said, not budging. By the way, we need faster broadband. Yours is so slow.
Thats my office space.
So? Rosies got nowhere to play. His rooms tiny.
I silently gathered up the toys and dumped them in the hallway. Emily snorted, but said nothing.
Then the utility bill arrived. The amount had doubled. I put the paper on the kitchen table as we sat down to dinner.
We need to discuss bills.
Jon munched silently. Emily cut a burger.
What bills?
Utilities. Theres three of you, one of me. Its fair to split them halfway.
Emily put down her fork.
Rosie, youre not serious? Were family. Are you really asking us for money?
Just splitting the bills. Its perfectly normal.
Normal? Jon finally looked up. Normal is helping family. Not squeezing cash out of people whove had a rough time.
Youve lived here two months, for free. Used my internet. Im not talking rent just bills.
You know what, Emily stood, if youre that stingy over a couple of quid, say so. Dont act like some kind of saviour.
I watched them stride out of the kitchen. Rosie snatched the last bit of bread; Jon threw Stingy over his shoulder.
I stayed at the kitchen table until midnight, thinking. Mums words about family duty rattled around in my head. I counted how much these uninvited guests had cost, wondered how much more I could endure.
Next morning, I marched into the lounge, where Emily and Jon were watching TV.
Youve got a week.
Emily didnt turn round.
What?
One week to find somewhere and move out.
Now both turned.
Are you mad? Jon jumped up. Where are we supposed to go?
Thats not my concern. I gave you two months, you havent searched seriously nor paid anything. Youve crossed every boundary. Enough.
Who do you think you are? Emily stood, too. Putting on airs just because you lucked into a flat? Queen Rosie now?
I own this flat. And I want you gone.
Does your mother know how you treat family? Jon moved closer. Maybe we should ring her.
Call her.
Emily grabbed her mobile. I didnt move. Let her call. Let Mum shout and cry and accuse. Id made up my mind.
One week, I repeated. If youre not out in seven days, Im calling the council.
You… Emily gasped with rage. You… How dare you! We helped you! We…
You didnt help me. You lived here. For free. Theres a difference.
I turned and locked myself in my room, curled on the bed with my knees to my chest. My heart thumped in my throat, but a strange calm wrapped me up.
The next week was hellish. Emily ostentatiously left her mess everywhere, Jon accidentally broke a shelf in the hallway, Rosie scribbled on my wallpaper with markers. I filmed everything on my phone.
On the seventh day, they finally left. Jon lugged out suitcases, cursing with every step. At the door Emily turned and declared:
I hope this all comes back to you twice over, you know!
I closed the door behind them.
I wandered through the flat, cleaned away their traces, opened the windows to air out the damp smells from the chill out zone. Moved the kitchen back how I liked it.
By evening, the flat felt like home again.
I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the sofa. The phone stayed silent Mum must be recovering from the barrage of Emilys complaints. Thats fine, shell cope.
Kindness is a fine thing. But kindness without boundaries becomes weakness. And weakness gets exploited.
I promised myself: never again. No family duty. No more just for a bit. No strangers in my home.
I finished the wine, washed the glass, and went to bed. For the first time in months in perfect, blissful silence.
