Relatives demanded I give up my bedroom for the holidays and left empty-handed.
Where am I supposed to put this bowl of pork pie? Aunt Margaret grumbled, awkwardly trying to wedge an enormous ceramic dish onto the bottom shelf of the fridge and shoving aside neat containers. Your fridges full of all that what is it, carpaccio and avocados, I can barely say it!
Emily, who was stirring the gravy at the stove, closed her eyes and counted to ten. The guests had only set foot in the house twenty minutes ago, and already the kitchen was chaosa boisterous gathering fit to upend the whole rhythm of her home.
Aunty Margaret, pop it out on the balcony, Emily replied as gently as she could, Its cold and coverednothing will happen to the pork pie. Ive got stuff for salads in the fridge; it cant go in the cold.
On the balcony? Aunt Margaret snorted, very put out. She was a large woman with stiffly curled hair and a lurid floral housecoat shed brought along and changed into in the hallway. Theres dust outsidecity grime flying about! And anyway its not right, food shouldnt be left on the floor. Never mind, Ill just clear out your tubs of grass; no ones going to eat that. Men want meat, not rabbit food.
Emily shot her husband an imploring glance. William, tall and mild-mannered, was slicing bread at the kitchen table, trying his best to be invisible. He knew Aunt Margaret and her daughter Hannah wellEmilys cousin, who was now giving loud reviews of the bathroom tiles.
Will, help Aunt Margaret take the pork pie out to the conservatory, Emily said firmly. Ive cleared off a cabinet, nice and clean, no dust.
William took the heavy dish from the protesting relative and headed down the corridor. Aunt Margaret, now unencumbered, shifted her focus to Emily.
Youre looking pale, Em. Still on those silly diets of yours? Skin-and-bones. My Hannahshes got rosy cheeks, lovely to look at. You just keep fading. And your decoratinglooks more like a hospital. All grey and white. So dull. Why not put up some gold wallpaper? They look posh, and you can get beautiful designs nowadays.
We prefer a simple style, Aunt Margaret, Emily responded, testing her sauce. To each their own.
At that moment Hannah swept into the kitchen. She was three years older than Emily but always acted as though the gap was fifteen, assuming the right to instruct her cousin about life. Following behind were her two boys, aged five and six, whod managed to smother their hands in chocolate.
Emily, theres only a shower in here? said Hannah with disappointment as she sat and crossed her legs. Was thinking thered be a proper bath. How am I supposed to bathe the boys? They like a good splash.
We did the bathroom for ourselveswe prefer showers. Your boys can manage a rinse, surely, they arent babies anymore, Emily replied, irritation growing behind her calm.
This visit had been planned for ages, but Emily had clung to the hope that her relatives from Liverpool would change their minds. Aunt Margaret and Hannahkids in towhad insisted on coming down to London for the holidays, making a case for family bonding and seeing the big city. Raised on hospitality, Emily couldnt refuse, though memories of their last visitthree years agostill haunted her; shed spent a week restoring her nerves and cleaning up.
But back then, she and William lived in a cramped two-bedroom flat with worn linoleum. Theyd since moved into a spacious three-bedroom with fresh designer renovationsa haven, their pride. Every detail was chosen with love, after months of wrangling with builders.
Emily was especially proud of the bedroom: deep blue walls, thick blackout curtains, a vast bed with a mattress that cost a small fortune, and plush carpeting. Emily and William had agreed on one ruleno guests in the bedroom; keep the door closed. The sitting room had a large fold-out sofa, and Williams study could double as extra sleeping space.
Emily, Im thirsty! whined Hannahs younger son, tugging her sleeve.
Oh, go ask Auntie Emily for some juice, Hannah waved him away. Emily, sort them out, pleasetheyre worn out from the journey.
Emily fetched a carton of apple juice from the fridge and poured two glasses.
Careful, dont spill it on the floorthats real wood parquet, she reminded.
Oh, come off it, Aunt Margaret sniffed. Things are for people, not the other way round. Kids are kids. So they drop it, you clean it. Youve gotten all jumpy and highfalutin since moving to London.
William, sensing the tension, changed the topic. Why dont we set the table? Its nearly fiveabout time to see out the old year.
They sat down, if messily; children darted about grabbing slices of cheese and ham, Hannah chatted loudly on her phone, recounting their journey, and Aunt Margaret critiqued every dish.
Prawn cocktail salad? I dont get all this fancy stuff. Give me a proper shepherds pie any day, she said, inspecting a prawn with her fork. This is just lettuce and rubber. Emily, you couldve boiled decent spuds, with parsleynot this weird mash with truffle oil. Smells off.
Its gourmet, Mum, Hannah drawled, setting down her phone. Still, I like plain food myself. Emily, pass the pickled mushrooms. Homemade?
No, farm shop, Emily answered.
Right, couldnt be bothered then, Aunt Margaret observed. I brought my own jarreal mushrooms. Youll see whats what.
Emily silently ate, eyes on her plate. William, under the table, squeezed her hand reassuringly: Just three days, his look said.
By eight, after the first bottle of prosecco had vanished and the boys sat quietly with their tablets, the talk turned to sleeping arrangements.
Oooh, Im right knackered, Aunt Margaret groaned, rubbing her back. The train shook me to pieces. Need to lie down, stretch my legs.
Yep, Mum needs to rest properly, said Hannah. Emily, where did you make up beds for us?
Emily braced herself, prepared for this moment.
Weve sorted the loungethe sofa folds right out, its big enough for two. Hannah and the boys can have Williams studythe chaise longue folds down too, and if its cramped, weve an inflatable mattress for the lounge.
A hush fell. Aunt Margaret stopped chewing and Hannah raised an eyebrow.
What do you meansofa? asked Aunt Margaret, staring at Emily. Dont be daft. Ive sciatica, slipped disc! Cant sleep on a sofaIll be crippled by morning. Need a proper bed. Soft, comfy.
Aunt Margaret, its an orthopedic sofa, bought for guestsits firm, supportive Emily started.
Sofas still a sofa! snapped Aunt Margaret. Thats for the young. I need comfort. Thought youd give us your bedroomIve heard youve some magic mattress.
Emily froze. She expected complaintsbut not a direct demand for their private space.
The main bedroom? William said, frowning. Margaret, thats our roomwe sleep there.
So? Youre young and healthy, spend a few nights on the sofa, or the flooryoull cope. Mum needs comfort. And for me and the boys, its easier being with her. The boys wake in the night, run aboutthe bedrooms got a door, so we wont disturb anyone.
Emily felt her cheeks burn. You want William and me to give up our bedroom and our own bed and sleep in the sitting room?
Oh, dont be so dramatic, Emily, Aunt Margaret exclaimed. Giving up, handing overwere family, just for the holidays. Guests deserve the bestmy mother always said so, and her mum too. Youve got too big for your boots.
Treated well isnt the same as giving my bed away, Emily said firmly. Your own beds like a toothbrushpersonal. We sleep there. Sorry, but we cant give you the bedroom.
Hannah slammed her glass down, making it ring.
Emily, are you serious? You wont let your own aunt and cousins have your bed? We traveled 200 miles, brought you presents, and you shove us on the sofa like stray dogs?
Stray dogs? William was astonished. That sofa cost two grandits top-notch. I nap there watching the football sometimes.
I dont care about your prices! Aunt Margaret shrieked. Its respect! Your motherbless her soulwould die of shame seeing how you treat family. Selfishjust like your dad!
Emilys mother, gentle and self-effacing, had always endured her sister Margarets demands, supported her kids, given her last penny. Emily grew up witnessing Margarets visits, her criticism, and the headaches left in her wake.
Dont bring Mum into this, Emily said, soft but firm. She was a saintyou took advantage and she let you. Im not her. I respect my boundaries. The bedrooms off limits. If you dont like the sofa, theres hotels nearbyI can book you a room.
Hotel?! Hannah sputtered. Youre tossing us out to a hotel? Mum, listen!
Im listening, love, Margaret said, grabbing her chest for effect. Oh, I feel faint my blood pressure water, quick!
Hannah rushed to pour water and dole out tablets; her boys watched the drama unfold with wide eyes.
Right, Hannah declared once Margaret recovered. Heres the deal. Either we get the bedroomor were leaving tonight. Not staying a minute morewell tell the entire family youve gone stuck-up in London. Your choice.
Emily looked at William. He sat stony-facedbut his eyes said, Im with you. He was tiredtired of the mess, the cheek, the attempt to take over their home.
Its a strange choice, Hannah, Emily said, slowly rising. Im offering good food and a comfortable stay. Youre demanding my bed. If thats all that mattersmaybe it is best you go.
Thats it! barked Margaret, leaping to her feet (forgetting her sciatica). Pack up, Hannah! Get the boyslets go! Rather sleep at Euston Station than here!
Where will we go at night? No trains now, Hannah protestedshe clearly hadnt expected Emily to call her bluff.
Taxi! Well go to Julies over in Hackneymight be crammed, but shes got heart. Would give you her last coin! Here, you just get truffles and attitude.
They hustled about, stuffing things into bags. Margaret roamed the house, lamenting her fate.
Give back our gifts! Margaret demanded in the hall. I brought you linen towelsyou dont deserve them! Ill give them to Julie.
Emily quietly fetched the unopened towels (which she never planned to use) and carried the bag out.
Heretheyre yours. And dont forget your mushrooms.
Certainly! snapped Hannah, snatching the bag. And the chocolates for the boys!
William watched in silence, appalled by their behaviour.
They packed up in fifteen minutes, Margaret complaining nonstop, regaling them with bitter tales and prophesying loneliness in their old age.
We got a cab? William asked as they pulled on coats.
Well get our own, thanks! Hannah snapped, prodding her mobile. Come on, Mumcars five minutes off. Lets wait outside, we might suffocate in here.
They clattered out onto the landing. Margaret slammed the newly-fitted front door so hard the plaster cracked.
Silence reigned. Only the fridges hum and the clocks ticking filled the air. The table lay scatteredhalf-eaten prawn salad, crumpled napkins, splashes of juice.
Emily slumped into her chair and hid her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.
William came up and hugged her, kissing her hair.
Its alright now Em, theyre gone.
Emily looked up. She wasnt cryingshe was laughing. Relief, pure and raw.
Will, did you hear them? Rather sleep at Euston! What a blessing! she giggled.
It truly is, he smiled. But theyve left their pork piestill out on the balcony!
Emily burst out laughing.
The pork pie! Their prized possession! And theyve lugged all that gear off to Juliestiny flat, husbands a nightmare imagine her delight tonight.
Thats not our concern, William mused, pouring an extra glass of prosecco. Honestly, when Margaret mentioned your mumI nearly lost it myself. You stood firm. Proud of you.
I just love our bedroom, Emily admitted, taking his glass. And you. And our peace. This may be our best New Years. Just us, enough food for an army, and no complaints about odd salads.
They began to clear away plates. Emily gathered the dishes, William stacked them in the dishwasher. The air felt clean, free from heaviness and resentment.
Emily went to the window. Big, soft flakes of snow fell, covering the taxis tracks. The city glowed in the night. Somewhere out there, her relatives trailed their frustration and bitterness with them. She almost pitied them. Living with such burdens must wear you downmuch worse than a night on a sofa.
Will, she called, Lets put on music. Light some candles. It is a celebration after all.
Of course, he chirped from the kitchen. Dinners nearly readythe duck they didnt stay for.
An hour later, they dined at the re-set table, candles flickering, soft jazz playing. The roast duck was perfectiongolden, juicy, fragrant.
To us, William toasted. To our homeand to always making room only for those who respect it.
And to boundaries, Emily replied, clinking her glass. Which weve finally learned to defend.
Late that night, lying in her cherished bedroom, atop the disputed mattress, Emily felt utter peace. Silence cocooned her, the sheets smelled fresh and floralnot of someone elses perfume. Somewhere her relatives squeezed into Julies crowded flat or sulked at the station, cursing her poshness. But she felt no guilt.
She realised something true: You cant please everyone, especially when it means harming yourself. And if the cost of peace is upsetting rude relatives, then so be it.
The next morning, Emilys phone buzzed with messagesfamily gossiping, shocked that shed thrown poor Margaret out in the cold. But Emily didnt read or reply. She flicked the phone to airplane mode, stretched in bed, and smiled at the new day.
The pork pie was later given to the neighbourhood dogswho were grateful, and had not one complaint about salt or taste. Unlike some, animals understand the value of kindness.
