Saturday, 9th July
Ellie, are you even listening? I said, weve got the train tickets sorted well be getting in at Paddington at six in the morning this Saturday. Make sure youre up, alright? Come collect us youve got a big enough car for everyone. Dont be daft the taxi fares these days are through the roof, and with Sarah bringing the twins, you know how it is cant expect us all to wrestle with luggage on the Tube, Auntie Junes booming voice roared down my phone, drowning out even the sound of water filling the bath in my new flat.
I stood there, phone wedged between shoulder and ear, frozen in my pristine, freshly painted hallway. Id only got the keys a month ago, after twenty years of mortgage ahead of me, three years spent counting every penny, denying myself even a coffee out or a new dress, six months hanging in dust and paint learning the difference between every kind of flooring and plaster. This place was my fortress. My hard-won, sparkling white haven, where everything had its place, not a speck of dust, and Id promised myself my first weekend here would be peaceful, quiet just me, alone with the view over London through my new windows.
Auntie June, hold on, I finally managed, snapping off the tap and heading for the kitchen where my cup of herbal tea had gone cold. What tickets? What train? I never invited anyone.
For a moment, there was a pause so thick you could cut it with a knife. Then I heard Auntie Junes signature dramatic inhale that whistle meant a storm was coming.
What do you mean, never invited us? Have you lost your marbles, Ellie? Its Uncle Mikes seventieth dont forget, hes here in London! The familys heading down. Why would we throw away money on a hotel? Your mum said you bought a lovely flat, finished it all up. Thats why were coming me, Uncle Colin, Sarah with her husband and the twins just six of us. We wont be any trouble. Chuck a few duvets on the floor. Were not fussy.
I slid onto the bar stool, a headache forming at my temple. Six people. Auntie June, who snores like a chainsaw and loves to take over in other peoples kitchens. Uncle Colin, wholl be on the whisky and then chain-smoking on my balcony (which is part of the living room and has my one expensive chair). Sarah, my cousin, and her twister twins, five years old and absolute menaces; last time, she watched as they drew on the walls and tumbled on the furniture oh, theyre just learning about the world, she said with a smile. And her husband, sullen Tom, who will eat anything that sits still too long.
Auntie June, I said, staring at my perfect ivory cupboards, I cant host you. The place is barely furnished I havent even got beds for everyone. And Im working; I need the weekend for a deadline.
Oh, cut it out, she snapped. What deadline? Its Saturday and Sunday! Bring out some duvets well bring ours, if it makes you feel better. Well sleep on the floor. Whats this, refusing your own aunt entry? I gave you that German doll for your fifth birthday, remember?
She brought up that doll every time she needed something. It was actually discounted, missing a leg, but over the years, it had become a family legend, a priceless heirloom.
Auntie June, I get it. But no, Im not ready to have guests, especially not so many. Uncle Mikes on the other side of the city its at least an hour and a half from mine. Itd make more sense for you to rent an Airbnb near him. I can send you the links.
You hear that? she screeched. Shes sending links, being all posh! Flat in London and now she thinks shes the Queen! Forgotten her own family? If it werent for us…
Auntie June, I cut in, cold determination rising up, Im not being uppity. I just cant have you. Dont book anything if youre banking on sleeping here. I wont open the door.
I hung up before she could let loose another tirade. My hands shook. I knew it was only the beginning the heavy artillery was next.
And sure enough, ten minutes later, Mum rang.
Ellie. Are you mad? she snapped, no hellos, just straight in. June rang me half in tears about her blood pressure, saying you told her to get lost.
Mum, I didnt tell anyone to get lost. I just said I cant have six people in my barely furnished, brand-new flat. You remember what Sarahs kids did last time? Turned the cat green with antiseptic and smashed Grans telly. I dont want them learning about the world in my home.
But theyre family! Mum protested, using that sing-song voice reserved for wayward toddlers. Itll only be two days! Put down a plastic sheet, put away your vases at least youll keep the peace. If you dont, everyone will say youre cold as stone. Ill be too ashamed to show my face.
Mum, Im not ashamed. Why should I sacrifice comfort and all Ive worked for so Auntie June can save a couple of hundred quid on a hotel? They can afford the presents and the train. Theyll manage the accommodation.
Selfish, Mum sighed. Just like your father. All he cared about was peace and quiet. Youll end up alone with your white walls no one to offer you a glass of water at the end.
Id rather pour my own glass than scrub my home clean of family affection, I muttered, hanging up.
The rest of the week, I was on edge. The family chat fell deathly silent; no hate messages from Sarah, nothing from Auntie June. I almost hoped theyd listened, found somewhere else, or changed their minds. Id said what I meant. No meant no.
Saturday started gloriously. I slept in, brewed coffee, put on my favourite silk robe and wandered into the lounge. Bright sunlight danced on the glass vase. Calm, harmony, bliss. I planned to read all day, order a takeaway, maybe have a bubble bath.
At nine, the intercom buzzed. Loud, insistent.
My heart leapt I nearly spilt coffee on the new cream rug. I approached the doorphone; I already knew who it was. On the tiny camera screen: a posse with massive tartan bags, Auntie June already pink-faced and sweaty, Uncle Colins cap askew, the twins mashing every button they could reach.
Ellie, open up! Surprise! Auntie June roared at the camera as the light flicked on. Were knackered, just off the train, let us in for a drink of water at least!
I leaned against the wall, cold. Theyd ignored me. Classic family move turn up so you cant possibly send them away to their faces. Manipulation, plain as day.
I took a deep breath, counted to five, then pressed speak.
I asked you not to come, I said flatly.
Oh, get off it! Auntie June waved her hand like brushing away a pest. Bit of a strop, so what? Were flesh and blood open up. Sarahs kids need the loo, for heavens sake, dont make us stand here like beggars.
Theres a café next door and the toilets are free, I answered calmly. I wont open.
Are you joking? Auntie Junes nose squashed up against the screen. Were your family! Your mother knows were coming. Open up right this minute, or Ill get the whole block involved!
Feel free, I replied. I sent you hotel addresses by text. Goodbye.
And I turned off the intercoms sound.
A minute later, the doorbell started up, again and again, followed by pounding fists.
Ellie! Open up! Do you have any shame? Sarah yelled. My kids are tired! You must be mad!
Come on, you spoilt cow! Uncle Colins bass bellowed. Weve brought bacon, gherkins and all sorts!
I wrapped my arms around myself in the hallway, gripped by fear, shame, outrage. I almost opened, just to stop the embarrassment, the racket. What will the neighbours think? a cowardly thought flickered across my mind. But then I looked at my sparkling floors, imagined six people traipsing through in muddy shoes, scraping the walls, that sickly whiff of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume in every room. Id feel violated in my own home.
No.
I went to the door and said, loud and clear:
Im calling the police. If you dont leave now, Ill report you for trespass and harassment.
For a moment, silence.
Youll send your own mother to an early grave! Auntie June howled. Police! Disgraceful!
Im counting to three, I said, unlocking my phone. One.
Mum, shes bonkers, lets go, muttered Sarah, her certainty wavering. Shell actually call the police so we all get shamed.
Two.
You know what, stuff you! Uncle Colin barked, kicking the door. Choke on your precious flat! May you rot in it alone!
Three.
There was scuffling, the sound of bags and muffled shouting, then some child bawling. I heard Auntie Junes hissed, Thats it, Ill never set foot here again! The whole family will hear what a witch she is!
Their steps receded down the stairs. Only then did I realize I was shaking all over.
I slid down the wall, hands covering my face, tears pricking my eyes. Not out of pity, but sheer exhaustion. I had done it. Id defended my territory.
My phone rang in the lounge again and again. I knew who it was. I checked and saw missed calls from Mum, Auntie June, even numbers I didnt recognize others, no doubt, conscripted into the drama.
I turned the phone off.
I poured myself a glass of water, wandered to the window. Down below, I watched them pile into a black cab, arms waving, gesturing at my window in outrage.
I remembered something from five years ago. Id been a uni student, doing an internship in the very city Auntie June lived in. No halls, no money for a flat, so Id asked if I could crash for a week. Auntie June said: Oh darling, were mid-renovation, the dust is awful, Sarahs boyfriend is around, its not ideal. Im sure youll find your own way. I spent three nights at the station, huddling on a wooden bench, until I found a granny letting a box room in exchange for a bit of cleaning.
Funny, how kin didnt mean much when I was the vulnerable one. Now that I had my palace, suddenly the blood ties were rallying troops.
Not this time.
I put on some quiet music, brewed a fresh coffee, curled up with my book. The day was ruined, but at least the flat was still mine.
In the evening, I flicked the phone back on a deluge of messages.
Youre no daughter/sister/niece of ours! raged Auntie June.
How could you do this to Mum? Her poor heart! Sarah.
Im ashamed to have raised you Mum. That one stung more than Id admit.
I stared at the screen a long while. I almost replied, tried to explain about the train station, Aunt Junes refusal years ago, my right to a home. But I knew itd be wasted. To them, I was a resource, and my saying no was mutiny.
I texted Mum only: Mum, I love you. Im an adult and this is my home, my rules. If you want to visit, just you, let me know in advance. Ill be delighted. But I wont be emotionally blackmailed and I wont forget Auntie June left me out in the cold five years ago. This is just payback.
She didnt reply.
A week passed. Life resumed: a little tenser, less family chat. I think the neighbours guessed something from the commotion, but nobody said a word. A young woman in the lift with a tiny whippet winked: Lovely place, by the way. Good, strong doors.
After a month, Mum rang, brisk but calm, asking about work and the mortgage payments. She didnt mention Auntie June. I didnt, either.
Family get-togethers dried up. I was removed from the WhatsApp chat. But my life didnt feel smaller; actually, it was lighter. No more buying pointless birthday presents, no more when are you getting married, when are you having children interrogations, no more nosy questions about my earnings.
Then, half a year later, just before Christmas, the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole Sarah stood there. Alone, mascara streaks and desperation on her face.
I opened the door.
Can I come in? she asked softly, voice hoarse.
I hesitated for a second, then stepped aside.
Shoes off on the mat, I said.
She perched on the edge of a kitchen chair.
Ive left Tom, she blurted out, tears flowing. He started drinking, hitting. Ive sent the kids to Mum, but I cant go back. Mum blames me, says I let my marriage fail. Auntie June says, grin and bear it, kids need a father. I just cant do it anymore.
She met my eyes, searchingly.
Ellie, can I stay? Just a couple of nights. Im looking for a room, Ill be out as soon as I can. Ill be no trouble, Ill sleep on the floor.
I stared at Sarah. I remembered her, viciously screaming at my door through the intercom six months ago. Youve got no shame!
But now she was just a broken woman. And I realised the difference: before, it was entitled demanding give, because you must. Now, it was a true plea for help.
No need to sleep on the floor, I sighed. The sofa in the lounge folds out.
She stared, stunned.
Even after what we did?
With some conditions, I said, pouring her a tea. First, no kids. My flat isnt childproof. Second, just a week. Ill help you find a place. Third, no comments about my life, no reporting back to Auntie June. If you do, its over.
Thank you, Ellie, she whispered. We were all stupid. Just jealous, really. You made your own life, escaped the mess.
Envys poison, I said. Drink your tea; Ill set the sofa bed up.
She was the perfect guest kept to herself, cleaned up, tiptoed on my precious carpet. In five days, she found a room and moved out.
But everything changed between us. Once Sarah saw what a peaceful, respectful home was like, she changed. She got a divorce, found a job, distanced herself from the drama. Sometimes wed even go to the cinema together.
Auntie June never forgave me. But I didnt care. Sitting on my sofa, glass of wine, watching Londons lights, I realised an Englishmans home is his castle is more than a phrase. Its survival and sometimes, to keep the peace within your castle, you have to keep the drawbridge up, even if those on the other side share your surname.
