Wheres the cheese? The hard one, the expensive block I bought especially for making the salad? I asked, rifling through the fridge, trying not to sound as exasperated as I felt, hastily pushing aside a half-empty jar of pickled onions and a lone bottle of milk.
My wife, Natalie, sat at the kitchen table, hunched over and looking as though shed rather melt into the wallpaper. Outside, gloomy autumn rain hammered relentlessly against the windowpane.
Well Amy made sandwiches for the kids. Theyd worked up an appetite after their walk, she muttered, voice low as if raising it might cause the ceiling to cave in. Come on, Simon, its just a block of cheese. Well buy more.
I slowly closed the fridge. The cold air stopped biting at my legs, but inside, I felt like a kettle about to boil over. I breathed in deeplycounting to ten, a habit acquired over the past three weeks, though it hadnt helped much lately.
That block cost £15, I said, as levelly as I could, turning to Natalie. I wanted to make a special dinner to celebrate finishing that work project. Now, whats left? Nothing. Like yesterday, when the ham vanished, and the day before, when the pack of salmon disappeared. Were burning through money just to keep ahead of the empty shelves. Do you even realise how quickly its going?
Natalie winced. She was embarrassed, uncomfortable, but her sense of family dutyforged in childhoodalways outweighed common sense.
Theyre guests, Simon. Theyre having their house renovated, you know that. Dust everywhere, everything upside down. Where else were they supposed to go? Just bear with itit’s almost over.
That almost over had been echoing around our house for a full twenty-two days. It started innocently enough: a phone call from Natalies sister, Amy, saying the builders had torn up the floors in their two-bed and accidentally busted a pipe, so living there was impossible. Amy asked if she, her husband Dave, and their two sons could stay just three or four daysuntil everything dried out and the floors were sorted. I, wanting to be a good brother-in-law, agreed. Family is family; you help out in times of trouble.
But three days turned into a week, a week slipped into two, and now it was the second month of autumn, with no end in sight. Our three-bedroom house, once a sanctuary of calm, was now chaos. Amy and Dave had taken over the lounge, while their boys, ten and eleven, camped on an air mattress, but in reality, theyd made themselves at home everywhere.
Evenings became tests of endurance. After coming home from work, I craved a hot shower and a bit of peaceonly to walk into something akin to a noisy train station. The TV boomed at full volume because Dave liked watching the news so you really feel it. The bathroom was always busythe boys loved hour-long baths and regularly left puddles on the floor that I unwittingly stepped in. But the hardest hit was the food.
Natalie and I had decent jobs, and we were used to eating well. Quality meat, fresh fruit and veg, real dairy. We budgeted carefully, saved for holidaysand for the mortgage, which was nearly paid off at long last. With extra mouths to feed, our budget snapped, then simply collapsed.
Amy, a woman who relished good food but loathed cooking, refused to go near the stove.
Oh Nats, Im just so tired from dealing with builders all day, you wouldnt believe the stress! she would say, stretched out on the sofa with a plate of grapes. Youre cooking anywayits no bother to make a bigger pot, is it?
Except a bigger pot meant a five-litre cauldron of stew, disappearing in one evening. Dave, working as a lorry driver, had an appetite that would shame a rugby squad. The boys, growing fast, didnt care what they ate or who it belonged to.
I shrugged off my jacket, hung it over the chair and rubbed my temples.
Natalie, I checked our banking app today, I said, locking eyes with her. In these three weeks, weve burned through what wed typically spend in two months. Im serious. They havent bought a thing. Not even bread.
Well, their costs are up, with the renovation and all Natalie started, but even she sounded unconvinced now. Dave said the building supplies keep getting pricier.
We have expenses too, I cut in. I didnt sign up to feed four adults and two children all alone. Have you ever seen Amy bring home groceries? Even just biscuits for tea?
As if summoned, Amy shuffled into the kitchen in slippers, wearing Natalies robehers was supposedly too warm, and mine was so light, so silky. Natalie, noticing a jam stain on its lapel, ground her teeth but kept quiet.
Oh, Simon, youre home! Amy said brightly, heading for the kettle. Weve been waiting for you. Everyones starving. Dave wants to know whats for dinnerhe reckoned he caught a whiff of burgers. He said you had mince defrosting.
I stared at her, unblinking. Something snapped inside me. The filter for politeness burned out entirely.
Therell be no burgers, I replied calmly.
No burgers? Amy stopped mid-pour, mug in hand. But what then? We cant go hungry. The kids need their routine.
I put the mince back in the freezer. Tonights dinner is plain boiled rice.
Plain? No meat? No sauce? Dave wont eat that, he needs meathes a man, after all.
Then Dave can go to Tesco, buy some meat, cook it himself, and have a feast. He knows where it isjust down the road.
Amy sniffed, slammed her mug on the table and pursed her lips.
Whats got into you, Simon? Work been tough, I get it, but why take it out on your own family? Tell him, Nat!
Natalie looked trapped, stuck between two fires.
Simon, really Maybe we could just boil some pasta? We had some, didnt we?
We did. Yesterday. Before the lads decided to see who could eat more, I replied.
The rest of the evening was strained silence. I boiled rice, put butter and salt on the table. Dave prodded his plate, grumbled something about prison food and left to binge-watch dramas. Amy fed the kids their rice, sprinkled a mountain of sugar over it (from our stocks), and huffed:
Hope youre in a better mood tomorrow and cook something proper.
I didnt sleep. Lying in bed, listening to Dave snoring in the lounge and Natalies soft breathing beside me, I thought and thought. Being kind comes with a price, and boundaries are non-negotiable. If I didnt fix this now, they’d never leave. Renovation was just a cover storyDave hadnt checked on his flat once in three weeks. They just settled in: free accommodation, free food, full-service.
The next morning, I rose before everyone. I didnt cook breakfast. Instead, I made myself a coffee and drank it in stillness, then left for work. I packed the remains of anything worth eating into a cooler bag overnight and dropped it at Mums, who lived round the corner.
Otherwise, I spent the day working, plotting next steps. That evening, I returned with only a foldernot groceries.
The atmosphere at home was tense. Amy confronted me in the hall, hands on hips.
Honestly, Simon! We woke up and the fridge was barenot even eggs. The kids had dry cereal with no milk! You cant carry on like this!
Dave looked out from the lounge, rubbing his belly.
Yeah, mate, youve really dropped the ball. Were starving here! Popped out for shopping, did you?
I took off my shoes, went to the kitchen, placed the folder on the table and called out:
Everyone, kitchen now. We need to talk.
Finally! Dave said, rubbing his hands together. Lets plan a proper meal. Id go for steak, or at least a roast chicken.
Once everyoneincluding Nataliesat down (the boys got tablets and were sent to their beds), I opened the folder.
Right, I began, in the cool, firm tone I reserve for tricky work meetings. Youve been living here twenty-three days. In that time, you havent bought a single grocery item, youve not paid any bills, and you havent lifted a finger to help clean.
Oh, here we go! Amy rolled her eyes. Counting crumbs now, are you? Were family!
Exactly. And thats why I tolerated it for three weeks, I said, laying out a printed spreadsheet. Herethese are our usual monthly food expenses. And herethese are the costs from the last three weeks. Our spending is up by four and a half times.
Dave squinted at the paper and snorted.
Whats all this? You kept receipts? Sad, mate. Didnt expect youd be this tight-fisted. How do you live with him, Nat?
Natalie blushed, but stayed quiet. I pressed on.
Its not petty, Daveits accounting. Everythings here: meat, fish, cheese, yoghurts for the boys, fruit, veg, cleaning supplies you pour everywhere. Plus electric and watermeters dont lie.
Amys tone turned shrill.
And whats your point?
My point is I put the printout of my bank account the free ride ends now. You owe us for your three weeks stay and food. Full sum at the bottom.
Amy snatched the sheet, scanned the numbers and gasped. It fell from her hands.
Youre mad! £700 for food?! Did we eat at The Ritz?
Close enough, I said. You only ate the best cuts, fancy sausages, and smoked salmon. Plus, I did all the cookingso consider yourself lucky I didnt add chefs wages to the bill.
I wont pay! Dave roared, leaping up. This is a joke. Nat, how can you let him treat your sister like this?
Natalie glanced at Daves angry face, Amys twisted expression, then at me and remembered how Id cried privately in the bathroom yesterday after checking my empty wallet. She was tired of it all.
What am I supposed to say? she whispered.
That hes lost it! screamed Amy. You dont charge family for staying!
Family visits mean bringing cake, having tea, and leaving by nightfall, Natalie said, voice unexpectedly steady. Or staying for a few days, if invited. Youve been here a montheating our food, complaining about plain rice.
A ringing silence filled the kitchen. Amy stared at her sister as if shed grown a second head.
You youre throwing us out? she croaked.
Im not throwing you out, I stepped in. But were changing the terms. If you want to stay, you chip insplit the food costs and bills 50/50, and everyone takes turns cooking. Thats fair. And this bill, I tapped the sheet, needs settling by the weekend.
Fine, lets go! Dave kicked his chair. Pack up, Amy. We dont need this. Enjoy your bloody ham.
But where will we live? The flats in bits! Amy wailed.
Well go to Mums! Dave shouted. Better cramped and honest than stuck here. Im not coming back!
Packing took an hourthe loudest hour our home ever had. Amy slammed cupboard doors, Dave muttered curses (not quietly enough), the boys whined about losing cartoons.
I sat in the kitchen, sipping cold tea, saying nothing. Intervening now would just mean repeating the cycle. Natalie sulkily helped ferry bags to the hallway.
When the front door finally closedcutting off Amys vow to never set foot here again and how does the earth bear such peoplea glorious silence settled on the flat.
Natalie came into the kitchen, sat down and covered her face.
God, I feel awful, she murmured. Mum will ring now, curse us out
Let her ring, I said, reaching across the table and placing my hand over hers. Natalie, we didnt do anything wrong. We just defended our home. You sawtheyd taken advantage.
Yeah, she sighed. Still family, you know.
Family should respect each other. That was just freeloading. You know, I called your mum today.
Natalie shot me a surprised look.
What for?
To check on her healthand I found out theres no renovation at Amys.
What? None?
None. Their flats being rented to some builders for two months for extra cash. Amy and Dave just decided to pocket the money while living at their generous sisters. Mum let it slipthought we knew.
Natalies face shifted from pale to red as understanding dawned.
They rented it out? So they made extra money, lived here, ate for free, and
and moaned about plain rice, I finished. Are you still ashamed?
She sat in silence for a minute. Then she went to the fridge, saw the empty shelves, and let out a nervous chuckle.
No. Not anymore. Sorry, Simon. I was an idiot.
Were, I agreed, standing. But you changed. Thats what matters. Shall we go shopping? Get some cheese. And wine.
And steak, Natalie added, suddenly resolute. Just for us.
About a week later, Amy rang. Not me, of courseNatalie. The call was on speaker as she washed up and I listened.
Nat, listen, we were rash, Amy said, syrupy voice. Mums is so cramped, the boys cant do homework, Dave cant sleep Weve been thinking maybe we could come back? Well even buy groceriesa bag of potatoes and some pasta.
Natalie turned off the tap, dried her hands, and, meeting my smiling gaze, answered firmly:
No, Amy. Youre better off at Mums. Besides, weve got some renovations coming up hereemotional ones. No room.
She hung up, and for the first time in a month, we felt like masters of our own home again. The bill Id set out was never paid, but peace and quiet were worth more than £700. It was a lesson for both of us: sometimes, to keep your family intact, you just have to shut the door.
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