Rebecca! Cats got your tongue? Aunt Jeans voice thundered down the line, completely drowning out the sound of running water as Rebecca turned on the tap for a bath. I said weve got our tickets sortedthe train pulls in at Kings Cross at six on Saturday morning. Dont oversleep, will you? Come pick us up, theres bags and all, and Carla with the kids, you know what thats like! Taxi fares are daylight robbery these days, but youve got a big car, well all fit.
Rebecca froze, phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, standing in the hall of her new flat, still smelling of fresh paint and new beginnings. Shed only had the keys for a month. Twenty-year mortgage, three years of saving every penny, skipping out on coffees and new dresses, then six months of renovations, where shed learnt more about plastering and laminate floorboards than most builders. This was her havenher pristine, peaceful corner, everything in its rightful place, not a speck of dust to mar her plans for a quiet weekend alone, the city skyline glowing through her windows.
One second, Aunt Jean, Rebecca finally managed, switching off the water and heading to the kitchen, where half a mug of herbal tea was cooling. Tickets? What train? I havent invited anyone.
A thick, heavy silence rolled down the line, so dense Rebecca could almost touch it. Then came Aunt Jeans characteristic wheezy inhalethe warning note before the storm.
What do you mean, not invited? Rebecca, have you lost your senses? Its Uncle Tonys birthdayseventy, remember? He lives in your city. All the familys coming. We thought, why fork out a fortune for a hotel when our niece lives in such a palace? Your mum said youve finally got a three-bed, all fancy and done up. So itll be me, Uncle Mark, Carla and her husband, the twins. Only six of uswell squeeze in. Just throw some mattresses down, were not delicate.
Rebecca perched on one of her new bar stools, a throb starting at her temple. Six people. Aunt Jean, who snored so loudly she rattled the windows and always took over someone elses kitchen. Uncle Mark, happy to drink himself under the table and then chain smoke on the balconyher newly combined lounge and balcony, complete with an expensive armchair. Cousin Carla, whose five-year-old two tornadoes were allowed to draw on walls and leap over sofas, while her husband Michael would hoover up anything edible in reach.
Aunt Jean, Rebecca said firmly, eyeing her immaculate, ivory kitchen cupboards, I cant put you up. The flats not all furnished yetthe paints barely dry, theres nowhere to sleep. And I need my weekends to catch up on reports for work.
Oh, for heavens sake! Aunt Jean snapped. Reports? Weekends are for family! Well bring our own duvetshonestly, Bex! Are you really going to turn away your own aunt? Who, let me remind you, bought you that German doll for your fifth birthday!
The infamous doll came up every time Jean wanted somethinga plastic-legged thing bought from the discount shop, but in family legend, it became a priceless treasure.
Aunt Jean, I get it, but no. The flats not ready. Im not opening my home to that many people. Besides, Uncle Tony lives clear across townitll take you ages to get there. Wouldnt it be more sensible to rent a place nearby? I can send you some links
Oh, will you listen to her! Jean wailed. Sending us links! Youve gone all high and mighty since you bought a flat! Dont care about your own family anymore, is that it? If it werent for us
Aunt Jean, Rebecca cut in, feeling icy resolve rising, this isnt pride. Im telling you I wont have guests. Dont book tickets expecting to staybecause you wont be coming in.
She hit end call, bracing herself for the next bombardment. Sure enough, ten minutes later, her mother called.
Rebecca, have you lost your mind? Mum didnt even say hello. Jeans beside herselfher nerves are shot, her blood pressures up, shes drinking rescue remedy! Said you practically spat her out into the street!
Mum, I didnt spit anyone anywhere, said Rebecca, weariness settling in. I said I cant house half a football team. The new place, the pale carpetsyou know how Carlas kids are! Last time at Nans, they covered her cat in green marker and smashed the telly. And Carla just smiled and said, Thats how they learn! Well, Id rather they didnt learn on my walls.
But Rebecca, theyre family! Mum said in that patient tone reserved for five-year-olds. Its just two days. Cover the floor with something. Move the vases. Dont you want to keep the peace? Everyone will say how cold you areto be honest, Ill be mortified.
Mum, why am I always the one who has to sacrifice my comfort so Aunt Jean can save a few hundred quid on a Travelodge? Theyve got train tickets, money for presentsIm sure they can sort a place to sleep.
Youre selfish, Mum replied. Just like your fatheralways thinking of your own peace and quiet. See where it gets you! Dont come crying to me when youre old and alone with nobody even to bring you a glass of water.
Id rather pour my own, Rebecca muttered, switching off her mobile.
The rest of the week she was on edge. The family chat fell quietJean wasnt calling, Carla wasnt starting another ranty messaging spree. Rebecca dared to hope theyd seen sense, maybe even scrapped the trip altogether. She reassured herself: Shed drawn the boundary. No meant no.
Saturday dawned perfectly. She slept in, brewed coffee, pulled on a silk robe, and padded into her sunlit lounge. Peace. Sunshine shimmered on her new glass vase. Her plan: read, order a takeaway, and maybe a luxurious bubble bath later.
At nine, the intercom blaredsharp, urgent.
Rebecca nearly spilt coffee on the cream rug. She peered at the entry panels tiny screenthere they were, looming with plaid sports bags, Aunt Jean beetroot red, Uncle Mark in his battered cap, and Carlas twins jabbing every button.
Rebecca, open up! Surprise! Jean hollered into the camera. We lugged it all the way from Kings Crosslet us up, the kids are bursting!
Rebecca braced herself against the wall. So, theyd shown up anyway, banking on her not being able to say no face-to-facea classic family manoeuvre.
She counted to five, then pressed Talk. I asked you not to come.
Oh, dont be daft! Jean batted the air, as if at an annoying fly. Bit of a sulk, I get it. But were not strangers! Open up, the kids are desperate, honestly.
Theres a cafe in the next block with free toilets, Rebecca said evenly. But Im not letting you in.
Are you serious? Jean pushed her nose right up to the lens. Weve brought half our house! Your mother knows were here! If you dont let us in, Ill have the whole block out!
Do what you like. I sent you hotel addresses by text. Goodbye.
She hung up, switched the intercom to silent.
Moments later, the doorbell rang over and over. She froze. Clearly, a neighbour had let them in. Now they were right outside her front door.
The bell rang again and again, followed by fists on the wood.
Rebecca! Open the door, for goodness sake! Ive got tired children! Carla screamed.
Open up, you ungrateful wretch! roared Uncle Mark. Weve brought treatslook, bacon and pickled onions!
Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself, tears threatening from sheer stress and shame. Her courage wobbledcould she really keep this up? Then her eyes fell on the pale, perfect floor; all she could imagine was six muddy pairs of feet, scratched walls, cheap perfume and beer smells forever sunk into her furnishings. This was her sanctuary.
No.
Rebecca moved to the door, voice unwavering, Im calling the police. If you dont leave now, Ill report you for harassment and attempted forced entry.
That silenced them.
Youll send your own mother to an early grave! wailed Jean. Calling the police on your familyshame!
Im counting to three, Rebecca said, phone in hand. One.
Mum, lets get out of hereshes not joking, said Carla, more subdued now.
Two.
To hell with you! bellowed Uncle Mark, punctuated by a thud as he kicked the door. Choke on your precious flat!
Three.
Scuffling, the thud of bags, a childs wail.
Come on, hissed Jean. Not setting foot here ever again! Ill tell everyone what a snake you are!
Their footsteps faded down the hall andRebecca presumeddown the stairs, not bothering to wait for the lift. Rebecca sank to the floor, shaking so much her cheeks were wet with tears. Shed done it. Shed defended her ground.
Her phone, left by the sofa, began to ring and ringcall after call: Mum, Jean, numbers she didnt recognise (other relatives, no doubt). Rebecca switched it completely off.
She went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and watched the family below, bustling disappointingly into taxis, pointing and gesturing at her windows.
Her mind flashed back five years. As a student, shed travelled for a work placement in the very city Jean lived. No digs provided, no savings for rent. Shed asked to crash at Jeans just for a week, pleaseback then Jean had said, Weve got workmen in, chaos, dust, you wouldnt like it! Besides, Carlas seeing someone, needs her spaceyoull have to sort yourself out. Rebecca had spent three nights sitting on a hard bench at Euston, hugging a rucksack, before an old lady let her stay in exchange for errands.
Back then, family ties hadnt counted for much.
Well, not this time, Rebecca muttered to herself. She put on soft music, poured another coffee, and sat in her favourite chair. Her nerves were in shreds, but at least the flat was untouched.
That evening, when she switched on her phone, a barrage of messages landed.
Youre no longer a daughter or niece of ours! bellowed Jean.
How can you treat your mum like thisshes heartbroken! said Carla.
Im ashamed I ever gave birth to you, her mother wrotea knife-twist in the gut.
She gazed at the messages for a long time. She was tempted to justify herself, remind them about the train station nights, Jeans past indifference, her right to privacy. But she knew it was pointless. To them, she was just a resource refusing to submit.
Rebecca wrote only one reply to her mum: Mum, I love you. But Im an adult, and this is my home. If you ever want to visit, just let me know in advanceId love to host you. But dont send the family to guilt me. Jean turned me away once, remember, and I only gave her back the same.
There was no reply.
A week passed. Rebecca continued living her life. Neighbours in the lift eyed her with mild curiosity (Jeans screaming had had little effect, it seemed). One young woman walking her dog winked and said, Congrats on the new placesolid front door, that.
A month later, her mum rang. The tone wasnt warm, but wasnt venom, either. Hows work? Still making those mortgage payments? Neither of them mentioned Jean.
Over time, the ties with her more toxic relatives simply faded. No invitations to family gatherings, gone from the family WhatsApp group. Rebecca realised she wasnt missing outno more buying gifts for unknown cousins, no more fielding nosy questions about her job, no more being lectured about how she should settle down soon.
Six months later, just before Christmas, the doorbell rang. Through the spyhole stood Carla, alone, puffy-eyed.
Rebecca opened the door.
Hi, Carla whispered. Can I come in?
Rebecca hesitated, but stepped aside.
Take off your shoes, please, she said quietly.
Carla shuffled to the kitchen, perching on the edge of a chair. Ive left Michael, she blurted, before bursting into tears. He drinks, he hit meIve taken the kids to Mums, but I cant go back. Mum says its my fault. Jean says I have to stick it out for the kids sake. I justcan I crash here? Just a few days, till I find a room to let? Ill sleep on the floor, I promise.
Rebecca looked at her cousin. She remembered Carlas furious face through the door months ago: How dare you! But now, she was simply someone in need. That was the differencethis was a plea for help, not a demand of entitlement.
No need for the floor, Rebecca sighed. The sofa in the lounge is pull-out. You can have that.
Youreally? Carla gasped. Even after?
Yes. With conditions, Rebecca said, pouring tea. One: no kids here, my flat isnt childproof. Two: youve got a week, max, to sort your housingIll help find you a letting agent. Three: dont talk about me to Jean or Mum. If I find out you do, youll have to leave.
Carla nodded through tears. Thank you, Rebecca. Weve all been so daftjust jealous, honestly. Jealous that you had the guts to make a life, buy your place, look after yourself. The rest of us are still stuck.
Jealousys poison, Rebecca said. Come on, drink your tea, well sort your bed.
Carla stayed five daysquiet, careful, always cleaning up after herself. Then she found a shared flat and moved out. The experience changed her; she applied for divorce, got a job, distanced herself from her toxic relatives, and grew closer to Rebeccacinema trips, the odd call, forging a genuine grown-up bond.
Aunt Jean never spoke to Rebecca again. But it didnt matter. On evenings in her own sanctuary, with a book and a glass of wine, Rebecca would look out across the city and realise that an Englishmans home is his castle isnt just a sayingits a core truth. To keep your castle safe and calm, sometimes you have to pull up the drawbridgeeven, or especially, when those on the other side share your name. Sometimes, loving yourself means enforcing your boundaries. And thats not selfishits dignity.
