Mike, did you get out the good tableware? The set with the gold rim, not the everyday stuff. And check the napkins too, will you? I starched them so theyd stand up like a posh restaurant, Sarah was rushing around the kitchen, tucking back a stray strand of hair. The oven was already wafting out the smell of roast duck with apples, veg was bubbling away for the main course, and the fridge was jam-packed with salads shed been chopping until nearly two in the morning.
Mike, her husband, obediently climbed up to fetch the good crockery.
Love, why the fuss? Its just family. Mum, Auntie Pauline, and, well, Neil. You could serve them from plastic bowls for all they care as long as their glasses stay topped up, he grumbled, struggling with the fancy china.
Dont start, said Sarah, fixing him with a look. Its our anniversary, fifteen years, crystal wedding. I want things to be perfect. Besides, you know how your brother is. If I set the table with basic plates, hell make jokes about us being on the breadline. If anythings chipped, hell say were lazy. For once, I want him to have nothing to complain about.
Mike sighed, coming down off the step ladder. He knew she was right. Neil, his older brother, was trickyputting it politely. In truth, as Sarah would say to her mates over a glass of wine, he was a textbook boor who believed being rude made him a salt of the earth sort.
Just, please, try not to bite this time, Mike said quietly while polishing plates. Hes going through a tough patch: lost his job, his wifes left. Hes about as cheerful as a bulldog in a thunderstorm.
Mike, his tough patch started forty years ago. And his wife left because her self-preservation instinct finally kicked in, Sarah said, tasting her gravy. Ill tolerate him for as long as my manners can take. But I warn you, if he starts on my figure or your salary again, all bets are off.
The bell rang bang on five. Mikes mum, Margaret, turned up firsta gentle woman who thought the sun shone from her sons, especially Neil. Auntie Pauline and her husband arrived next. Neil, as always, was forty minutes late, barging in noisily just as everyone was eyeing the wilting starters.
He brought a blast of cold air and a whiff of cheap fags.
Look whos here! he roared. Bet you thought Id bottled it, eh Mike? Here, happy anniversary!
He plonked a parcel wrapped in yesterdays newspaper into Mikes hands.
Whats this? Mike asked, baffled.
Toolbox, mate. Got it from Poundland. You need it, the amount of times you ask for a hammer. Never seen a bloke so hopeless with DIY.
Sarah appeared at the door with a stiff smile.
Hello, Neil. Wash your hands, wont you? Weve all been waiting.
Neil looked her up and down, making Sarah feel like shed been doused in ice water.
Blimey, youve scrubbed up! New dress, is it? Shiny as a Quality Street wrapper. Or is it to distract from the laughter lines? Kidding! Youre still all right for an old bird. Proper womanly.
Mike coughed awkwardly.
Neil, come get yourself seated. The ducks getting cold.
No sooner had Neil sat than he took over, pouring himself a generous measure of whisky, snagging a bit of smoked herring, and launching into a speech.
Congrats, you lovebirds! Fifteen years. How you havent throttled each other, Ill never know. Id have strung myself up after five with my Claire. Women, eh? They just bleed you dry. Still, you lucked out, Mikeshes a decent cook. Well he grimaced as he chewed. Bit heavy on the salt, Sarah. Fallen for someone, have you? Or your hand shaking from old age?
Margaret tried to distract him.
Oh Neil, dont be mean. Sarah cooks beautifully. Try some of the tongue salad, its so tender.
Tongue, eh? Neil cackled. Good job, Sarahs got plenty of that! Mind you, a bit of honest feedback never hurt anyone. Thats why folk respect me.
Sarah, laying the hot food, felt an angry knot forming inside. She looked at Mike: he was sinking into his plate, tracing the pattern on the tablecloth like it was fascinating. He was terrified of Neil. Terrified of a row. Terrified of spoiling the evening.
“Right,” thought Sarah, “Just breathe. Its one night. For Mike. For his mum.”
Hows work, Neil? Still got that interview lined up? she tried to steer things elsewhere.
Neil waved her off, topping up his glass.
Dont ask. Bunch of tools, the lot of them. Went in for the interview, some snot-nosed kid starts grilling me about IT skills. I say: Listen, I worked when you were still wetting the bed. And then its: Youre not quite what were after. Sod em. I might start my own businessjust need to scrape together some cash. By the way, Mike, could you lend us fifty quid till payday? Bleedin pipes need fixing.
Sarah froze with the salad bowl.
Neil, you still havent paid back the two hundred you borrowed six months ago for your car repairs, she reminded him, measuredly.
Neil coloured, but snapped back.
Oh, the number-cruncher pipes up! Look out, Mikeshes keeping you on a short leash. Im asking my brother, not you. Mens business. Or have you gone so soft you cant even help out your own flesh and blood?
Mike glanced between his wife and brother, torn.
Neil, honestly, were skint just paid off the mortgage the food alone
Yeah, I can tell, Neil said, stabbing at the roast. Living it up! Red salmon, smoked fish. Fat cats, the pair of you. But your brother cant even manage toast. Thats you all over, Sarahgrabbing everything for yourself. Not bothered your relatives are on their uppers, are you?
Neil, love, dont be cross, Margaret tried, passing him a roll. Eat up. Sarah worked so hard.
Hard? I know how she worksprobably just as hard for her boss, eh? Neil winked, a slimy look that made Sarah feel sick. Word is, Sarah, you got a promotion? Assistant manager, is it? What did you do to earn that, then? Flash those baby blues? Or stay behind after hours?
The table fell silent. Even Auntie Pauline stopped chewing. Mikes face turned blotchy red.
Neil, shut it, he said, quiet but firm.
Oh, cant face the truth, mate? Neil was on a roll, whisky fuelling his tongue. You work for peanuts, Mike, while your missus climbs the ladder. Think she actually loves you? Or just sticks around because youre convenient? Look at youyou’re a doormat!
Shut up. Sarahs voice was steel, though her hands shook. She set the salad bowl down.
Oi, listen to the sergeant! Truth stings, eh? Always wondered what Mike saw in you. Neither here nor there, face like a wet weekend, attitude like a buzzsaw. My Claire mightve left, but she was a looker! Not like you, Sarahplain Jane who thinks shes the Queen just because shes whipped her hubby.
Sarah looked at Mike. Waiting. Waiting for him to stand up, bang the table, kick Neil out. But Mike sat, hunched, knuckles white around his fork. Paralysed by a lifetime of being steamrolled by his big brother.
Well then, Sarah thought. If you wont, I will.
She stood up, smoothed her dress, and spoke, icily calm, even old Uncle Colin pricked up his ears.
Get up and go.
Neil spluttered.
What? Thought youd lost your marbles in the kitchen, did you?
I said, out of this flat. Now.
This is my brothers place too! Neil shrieked. Mike! You hear her? Shes throwing me out! Say something!
Mike met Sarahs gazeher pale, determined faceand realised if he didnt back her up, in an hour their marriage would be in pieces. Crystal would shatter.
Neil, Mike croaked just go.
Neils jaw dropped. He expected grovelling, not solidarity.
You two stitched this up, havent you? Mum, look at em, kicking out family over a bit of banter!
It wasnt banter, Sarah said, coming round the table and pointing at the door. You insulted me, belittled your own brother in his home, over dinner I cooked. Enough. For fifteen years Ive bitten my tongue. Im done. Out.
Sod you lot! Neil shot up, knocking over his glass. A red stain spread across the tablecloth like a wound. Stuff your salads! Snobs! I wont set foot in here again!
Good, Sarah replied crisply. And for the record, were not lending you money. Not now, not ever. Get a job, Mr Entrepreneur.
Neil flushed, grabbed his half-finished whisky (“No point leaving good stuff!”) and stomped off, slamming the door so hard the sideboard rattled.
Youll regret this, Mike! he yelled from the hall. Exchanging your own brother for your missus! Henpecked git! Spit!
Silence crashed down. Only the clock and Mikes mums shaky breathing were audible. Margaret dabbed her eyes, sniffling.
Sarah she whispered unsteadily. Was that really necessary? He didnt mean harm Hes just, you know, got a short fuse. Bit too much to drink.
Sarah faced her.
Margaret, she said kindly but firmly. Short fuse is when someones a bit loud. When someone humiliates a woman and calls his brother rubbishthats just low. I wont have my home used as a dumping ground for his rubbish any longer. If you want to forgive him, thats your right. But not here, not at my table.
Margaret sniffled, but kept quiet. Auntie Paulinenever short of an opinionbanged her fork against her plate.
The ducks fantastic, Sarah! she said, brightening. Proper melt-in-the-mouth. And good on youabout bloody time someone put that bull in his place. He trod on my feet at your wedding and never even said sorry. Mike, pour me more wine, will you? Im in bits.
That finally broke the frost. Mike, like hed come out of a trance, grabbed the bottle. His hands shook but he looked at Sarah with gratitude andmost importantlyrespect shed not seen from him in ages.
Im sorry, he murmured as he filled her glass with cordial. I shouldve said something years ago.
Dont worry, Sarah put her hand over his. Were together. And hes finally, finally gone.
The rest of the night was, oddly, lovely. Without Neil, the air felt clearer. People relaxed, joked gently, and even Margaret enjoyed herself after a few homemade liqueurs and a slice of Sarahs legendary homemade trifle. By the end, Auntie Pauline was leading a singalong while Mikes uncle played air-guitar with a salad fork.
Once everyone left, Sarah and Mike found themselves alone with a mountain of washing up. Sarah slumped on a chair, staring at the wine stain.
Ill never get that out, she sighed. Mums gift.
Mike came behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
Forget it, love. Well buy another. Ten, if you want! You wereyou were brilliant tonight. I cant believe I let him make you miserable for years. Im just so used to it, always being told let Neil have his way, hes difficult. So I always gave in.
I know, Mike. Old habits. But were a family. Crystaldelicate but beautiful. And Im not letting him shatter us with his Poundland screwdrivers.
They both laughed, finally letting the tension ebb away.
About those screwdrivers, Mike said, picking up the parcel Neil had left. The best bit? I already have an identical set, from him, for Christmas three years ago. Mustve taken it and regifted!
See, said Sarah, smiling. Consistency is a skill too.
Next morning, Mikes phone vibrated non-stop. Neil was calling and calling. Mike watched the screen, then glanced at Sarah, who was calmly reading with coffee. He put the phone on silent and flipped it face down.
Not going to answer? she asked.
Nope. Let him stew. Maybe I wont ever answer. I liked how peaceful it was last night.
Your mumll worry, Sarah said.
Shell cope. Might do her good to see Ive grown a backbone. Or rather, we have. Were a team now, right?
Team quiet. And duck with apples, Sarah grinned.
A week later, Margaret told Sarah that Neil was telling everyone hed been chucked out for no reason by mad Sarah while poor Mike hid under the table. The relatives nodded but, curiously, started inviting themselves round to Sarah and Mikes more often, behaving extra politely. Seems word had got around: rudeness isnt welcome in this house. Better than any security alarm.
Oh, and the tablecloth? Sarah got the stain out with her nans old tricksalt and boiling water. Just like shed finally got Neil out of their lives. Bit of an effort, bit of a burn, but now everythings clean and bright again.
