Im not cooking for everyone anymore! Just for me and Annie.
Whats that supposed to mean? snapped Nigel, looking thoroughly put out.
Because in this family, as Ive come to realise, its every man for himself. So, carry on then!
Mum, wheres my breakfast? Emily barged into the bedroom without knocking. Im going to be late for school!
Nina tried to sit up, but her head spun. The thermometer read thirty-eight point five. Her throat burned, and her chest rattled with every breath.
Emily, Im ill Grab something from the fridge.
Theres nothing in there! Just Annies yoghurts! Emily stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Its always about her, isnt it?
A wail came from the nursery. Little Annie was awake. Nina forced herself up, legs wobbling, spots dancing in her vision.
Nina, wheres my shirt? Nigel poked his head out of the bathroom. The blue striped one?
Should be in the wardrobe
Its not! Did you iron it yesterday?
Nina leaned against the wall. Yesterday, shed spent the entire day feverish, trying to care for their youngest.
No, didnt get round to it.
Brilliant! Ive got a meeting! Nigel slammed the bathroom door in irritation.
Annies cries grew louder. Nina shuffled to the nursery, scooping her up. The toddler clung to her, hiccuping.
Mum! Emily shouted from the kitchen. Theres literally nothing here! Not even bread!
Moneys on the table. Buy something on your way.
Im not stopping at the shop! Ive got a test! And anyway, feeding us is your job!
Nina wordlessly walked to the kitchen, Annie in her arms. She pulled some frozen sausages from the freezer and set a pan on the hob.
And make pasta! Emily commanded, eyes glued to her phone.
As breakfast sizzled, Nigel emerged from the bedroom in a crumpled shirt.
Had to wear this one. Look like a proper mess. Cheers for that.
Nina stayed silent. Talking hurt, and she had no energy left for explanations.
Sophies birthdays today, Emily announced, piling pasta onto her plate. Im going over after school. Back late.
Emily, I feel awful. Could you stay and help with your sister?
Yeah, right! Ive been waiting months for this party! And its not my fault you had another kidyour problem!
She grabbed her bag and slammed the door behind her.
Nigel finished his breakfast while scrolling through headlines.
Nina, any chance you could pick up the slack today? Im really poorly.
Cant. Work drinks after. Professional obligations, you know how it is.
But Im ill
Take a paracetamol or something. Youre not bedridden. Tough it out.
He pecked her sweaty forehead and left.
Nina was alone with her three-year-old. Annie demanded attention, food, play. Nina went through the motions, feeling her strength drain.
By lunch, her fever hit thirty-nine. She managed to feed Annie, put her down for a nap, and collapsed on the sofa. Her head throbbed, her heart raced.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Emily: Mum, send money for Sophies present. Now!
Nina didnt reply. She couldnt even lift the phone.
Nigel returned first that evening, tipsy and carrying a convenience-store bag.
Got some lager and crisps! Big match tonight! He flopped onto the sofa and turned on the telly.
Nigel, feed Annie, please. I cant move.
That bad? He finally looked at his wife. Blimey, youre bright red.
High fever. All day
Well, call the GP if its dire. Wheres Annie?
In her cot. Shell wake soon.
Fine, Ill sort her. When shes up.
Half an hour later, Annie woke crying for Mum. Nigel reluctantly paused the match and picked her up.
Whats all the fuss? Come to Dad!
But the toddler squirmed, wailing louder. Nigel panicked.
Nina, she wants you!
Give her a biscuit from the cupboard. And juice.
Where? I cant find anything!
She forced herself up. The room tilted. She grabbed the wall, fetched a biscuit, poured juice. Annie calmed slightly.
Emily came home past midnight. Nina was still awakeher fever wouldnt let her sleep.
Why didnt you reply? Emily snapped from the doorway. Had to borrow cash from Sophies mum! So embarrassing!
Emily, Ive had a forty-degree fever all day
And? Couldnt tap your phone? Two seconds!
The next morning, Nina woke to Nigel shaking her shoulder.
Nina, up! Ive got work, and Annies kicking off!
Her fever had broken, but weakness lingered. She dressed Annie, ignoring the mess.
Breakfast? Nigel asked.
Sort yourself. Im taking Annie to nursery.
Sort myself? I cant cook! No time!
Youll learn.
Something in her tone silenced him. He grumbled and slouched to the kitchen.
When Nina returned, the house was a bombsitedirty dishes, crumpled laundry, unmade beds. Normally, shed tidy immediately. Not today.
She showered, drank tea, and went back to bed.
That evening, the family gathered for dinneror rather, an empty table.
Mum, whats for dinner? Emily asked.
Dunno. Whatever you make.
What?
Exactly that. Im not cooking for everyone anymore. Just me and Annie.
Whats got into you? Nigel huffed.
Because in this family, Ive realised its every man for himself. So, crack on!
Nina, come on He reached for her, but she stepped back.
Im done being your skivvy! Yesterday proved Im just unpaid staff to you lot.
Mum, I said sorry! Emily lied.
No, you didnt. Neither did Dad. No one even asked how I was.
Fine, sorry! Emily muttered. What, we just starve now?
Fridge is full. Hands work. Cook.
The first week was carnage. Emily threw tantrums. Nigel sulked and slammed doors. Nina held firmcooking only for herself and Annie, washing only their clothes, tidying only the nursery.
Mum, my jeans are filthy! Everythings dirty! Emily wailed.
Washing machines right there. Detergents under the sink.
I dont know how!
Youll learn. Instructions are on the lid.
Nigel went to work in wrinkled shirts, ate at cafés. Their savings dwindled.
Nina, this is ridiculous! Eating out every day!
Cook at home. Cheaper.
I cant!
YouTubes your friend. Millions of recipes.
The house descended into chaosdirty dishes, dusty floors. Nina saw it all but didnt intervene. Only the nursery stayed clean.
Two weeks in, Emily attempted pasta. Forgot salt, overcooked itinedible gloop.
Mum, help!
Nope. Learn.
Youre my mum! Youre supposed to!
My jobs to care for minors. Cooking you gourmet meals isnt in the contract. Bread, milk, cerealyou wont starve.
Nigel tried scrambled eggs. Burnt them. Tried againedible.
Look, Nina! I made eggs!
Nina nodded and returned to her book. No praise, no fanfare.
By week three, the flat was a tip. Emily sobbed over a mountain of laundry.
Mum, please! Just this once! Ive got nothing clean for school!
You were home all yesterday. Couldve washed them.
I was doing homework!
I work remotely, cook, clean after Annie, take her to the park. And I manage.
Youre the adult!
And you want adult privilegeslate nights, pocket money? Then act like one.
By months end, resistance crumbled. Emily learned to wash clothes, cook basics, tidy up. Nigel mastered not just eggs but pasta and even a simple soup.
One evening, Nina returned from the park with Annie. The kitchen table was set, dinner ready. Nigel and Emily stood sheepishly.
Mum, we made dinner, Emily mumbled. I did salad. Dad roasted a chicken.
Thanks, Nina said evenly.
Mum, were sorry, Emily looked down.
