Emma, are you there, love? Gone deaf, have you? Auntie Mabels voice rattled down the line with all the subtlety of a London Tube announcer, nearly drowning out the bath Emma was trying to run. Well, weve sorted the tickets were on the early train, arrives Saturday at six in the morning sharp. So dont oversleep! Pick us up, will you? Well have a load of bags, and you know Felicitys bringing her twins. Taxi fares are hideous, but your cars massive, you can fit the lot of us.
Emma stood in her brand new, freshly-painted hallway, phone wedged between ear and shoulder. She still couldnt quite believe this place was hers: the keys were only handed over a month ago. Twenty years of a mortgage, three years of pinching every penny, passing on cappuccinos and new dresses, six months of DIY she could plaster walls with the best of them now, and knew more about laminate flooring than any builder. This was her fortress. Her gleaming, hard-won slice of paradise, spotless, with everything precisely where it belonged. Her first weekend of peace and solitude, planned out to the minute just her, a book, and the panoramic view of Londons skyline.
Auntie Mabel, slow down, Emma finally managed, shutting off the tap and heading to the kitchen, where her herbal tea was cooling. What tickets? What train? Did I invite anyone over? Because I certainly dont remember.
A dreadful hush fell on the other end so thick, you could almost butter it. Mabel sucked in a dramatic gasp, like she was about to launch into an aria.
What do you mean, didnt invite us? Are you off your rocker? Its Uncle Dereks big birthday bash seventy, love! He lives up your way, or have you forgotten? Familys coming. Now, why waste good money on a hotel when youve got a gorgeous new flat? Your mum reckons its a proper three-bed palace. So, its just six of us me, Uncle Colin, Felicity, her other half, the twins. Honestly, we dont mind the floor, throw us a couple of duvets, were not precious.
Emma plonked down on her bar stool, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Six people. Mabel who snored like a freight train and liked to take charge of other peoples kitchens. Uncle Colin, whose fondness for a pint led inevitably to a cigarette and Emmas balcony doubled as her posh lounge. Felicity, who believed her five-year-old twins were especially gifted in expressive arts usually all over the furniture. And Felicitys husband, perpetually grumbling and capable of emptying her fridge at a glance.
Auntie Mabel, Emma stared at the perfect, ivory cabinets, Im sorry, but I cant have you lot over. The place isnt even fully furnished yet. Nowhere proper to sleep. And Ive got to finish a work report over the weekend.
Oh, dont give me that! huffed Mabel. Since when can you not finish a bit of paperwork on Sunday night? Its only a couple of nights! Like I said, well bring our own blankets. You really turning family away at the door? We changed your nappies! And didnt I buy you that doll from Hamleys for your fifth birthday?
Emma had heard the story of that doll every time Mabel wanted something. It had no arm when she got it, but the family myth held it was a priceless heirloom.
Auntie, I do get it. But no. Its a new flat, Im really not ready for guests, especially that many. Plus, Uncle Dereks across the city, its a good hour and a half from mine! Makes more sense to stay near him. I can even send you some links for rentals nearby.
Oh, listen to Miss London! Mabel screeched. Swanning about with her posh new flat, too good for the likes of us? If it wasnt for family, you wouldnt even! Well, I never
Auntie, Emma cut in, voice cool and steady, I havent changed. I just cant put you up. Please dont buy tickets expecting to stay here. If you do, I simply wont open the door.
She hung up before Mabel could work up a full head of condemnation. Her hands shook. Emma knew this was just round one. Cue the heavy artillery: her mum.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, her mobile buzzed.
Emma, are you mad? her mother boomed, not even bothering with how are you? Mabels in tears, God knows where her blood pressure is. She says you told them to sling their hook?
I didnt. I just explained that I couldnt host a party of six. New flat, pale carpets, expensive parquet. You know what Felicitys kids are like last Christmas they coloured in Grans cat and dropped her telly. Felicity just smiled, Oh, theyre experimenting with boundaries. Well, I dont need that sort of experiment in my flat.
But its family! her mother tutted, like she was correcting a clueless child. Its just two nights. Put a plastic sheet on the sofa, tuck the vases away. Youll keep the peace. Otherwise, everyonell think youre heartless. Ill never live it down!
Mum, why should I sacrifice my space and the money I spent just so Auntie Mabel can save a bit on a Travelodge? Theyve paid for the presents, the train, surely a couple of nights of Airbnb wont break them!
Youre so selfish, Mum sighed tragically. Just like your father. Always thinking of himself. You’ll find yourself all alone one day and see if your empty flat brings you a cup of tea in your old age.
Well, Id rather make my own cup than fish sticky sweets out from under the sofa, thanks, Emma muttered, before hanging up.
The week dragged by. Silence from the relatives. No irate messages from Felicity. Perhaps, Emma thought, reason had finally prevailed and Mabel had booked elsewhere. Or they might have scrapped the trip. Boundaries, she reminded herself. No means no.
Saturday dawned glorious Emma had a long lie-in, made coffee, waltzed around in her silk dressing gown, savoured the sunshine flooding the lounge, the whole city glittering through her window. Book, sushi delivery, a decadent soak later everything was mapped out.
At 9 a.m. the buzzer blared, making her spill coffee on her cream carpet. Her heart plummeted, but she already knew who was clustered in the video screen: Mabels red, boiling face, Colin in his ancient flat cap, Felicitys twins pressing every single button on the intercom.
EMMA, its us! Surprise! Auntie Mabel bellowed at the camera. Were roasting here, let us in for a cuppa at least!
Emma braced herself. Theyd come anyway, banking on her not slamming the door in their faces.
She answered, voice icy. I told you I wasnt having guests, Auntie.
Oh, dont be daft! Everyone loses their rag now and then! Were family! Just let us in the kids need the loo!
Theres a café next door with free toilets, Emma replied. Im not opening the door.
You what? Mabel pressed so close her nose squashed the lens. Dont be ridiculous, were your family, and your mum knows were here! Open up or Ill shout the street down!
Be my guest. You received the hotel links I texted, didnt you? Good day.
Emma hung up and muted the intercom.
A minute later, the doorbell started. Then came the fist-banging.
Emma! Open the door right now! The kids are tiredhave you lost your mind? Felicity screeched.
Come on, you little traitor! bellowed Uncle Colin. We brought you bacon and pickled onions!
Emma was rooted in her hallway, hugging herself. She was mortified, afraid, and furious all at once. What will the neighbours think? threatened to sneak into her resolve. But then she imagined six people tramping over her pale floors, scraping the walls with their bags, stinking out the flat with cheap aftershave and leftovers. How violated shed feel, not just the carpet.
No. Not happening.
She walked to the door and called, loud and clear, Im phoning the police now. If you dont leave, Ill report this as trespass and harassment.
Silence.
Youll be the death of your poor mother! Mabel wailed. Calling the police on your own aunt! You dreadful girl!
Im counting to three, Emma said, unlocking her phone. One.
Mumshes nuts, lets just go, Felicity muttered, deflated. She actually would call them. Mortifying.
Two.
Oh, stuff you! thundered Uncle Colin, kicking the door. Rot in your precious flat!
Three.
There were the sounds of angry shuffling, a child howling, someone being whacked with a bag.
Come on, lets go, Mabel hissed. Never stepping foot here again. Everyone will hear about this selfish cow!
Their voices faded away, heels clattering on the stairs clearly, they couldnt manage the lift or someone else was in it. Emma stayed by the door, trembling until the silence of the hallway returned.
She sank down on her lovely new floor, hands covering her face. The tears that burst out were pure stress not pity. Shed stood her ground.
Her phone started up again in the lounge missed calls from Mum, Mabel, and a parade of unrecognised cousin numbers. She switched it off altogether.
She poured herself a tall glass of water in the kitchen, looked out the window, saw the cluster of relatives manhandling bags into a cab, all wild gesticulation and glares aimed at her windows.
Oddly, Emma remembered an ancient injustice. Five years ago, shed arrived for a student placement in the city where Mabel lived. No money for rent, no halls place yet. Shed called, asking for a few nights on their sofa. Sorry, Emma, were doing the place up, chaos everywhere, best not, Mabel had replied. And Felicitys got her boyfriend around, dont want embarrassment. Emma had slept at the train station for three nights, clutching her rucksack, until shed found a bedsit with an elderly lady in exchange for watering plants.
Nobodys blood boiled for family bonds then. Family pride only kicked in once Emma had something they wanted.
Not this lifetime, Emma muttered. She put on low music, poured a strong coffee, and flopped in her favourite chair. Her day was rattled, but her home was not.
Evening brought the missile storm of messages:
Youre dead to us! from Mabel.
How could you do this to Mum and her poor heart? from Felicity.
Utter shame to have you as a daughter, Mums message. That one hit the hardest.
Emma reread those cruel lines. She wanted to type an explanation, to revisit the train station or the time Mabel had left her to fend for herself. But she knew theyd never listen. For them, shed always be a resource, finally saying no.
She simply texted her mum: Mum, I love you. But Im an adult, and I set my own rules in my own home. If you ever want to visit alone, with notice, youre always welcome. But I wont be guilted by extended family. Aunt Mabel sent me packing years ago Im just levelling things up.
There was no reply.
A week on, Emma adjusted to her new routine. Family went quiet. Group chats ditched her. Neighbours in the lift eyed her with polite curiosity, until the young woman with the dachshund raised an eyebrow and grinned: Congratulations on your new place! Sturdy front door youve got there.
A month later, Mum finally rang clipped, but civil: asked about work, the mortgage, not a whisper of Mabel or the legendary siege. Emma said nothing either.
Family relations entered deep freeze. No calls for Christmas lunch, no endless WhatsApps about bunting and office sweepstakes. Oddly, Emmas life felt no poorer. She no longer had to buy pointless gifts for random children, endure lectures about settling down, or fend off nosey salary questions.
Six months rolled by. Mid-December, there was a timid knock. Emma checked the peephole: Felicity, alone, looking battered and sobbing.
Emma opened up.
Hi, Felicity whispered, Can I come in?
Emma hesitated, then stepped aside. Shoes off on the mat.
Felicity crept to the kitchen, perching on the edge of a chair.
Ive left Graham, she blurted, bursting into tears. He started drinking, got rough. Ive taken the kids to Mum, but I Ive nowhere to go. Mums just nagging me, Mabel reckons I should stick it out for the kids I cant do it anymore.
She looked up, eyes shining with tears.
Em, could I stay? Just a few days, while I find somewhere. Wont be any bother, Ill sleep on the floor if I have to.
Emmas memory flashed to Felicitys angry face in the hallway, crowing, Have you no shame? Much had changed now, this wasn’t someone expecting; it was someone asking.
No need for the floor, Emma sighed. Spare bed folds out. But on my terms.
Felicity blinked, hope flickering.
Stay for the week max, while you house hunt. No kids or ex dropping in, and you keep my business private nothing goes back to Mabel. Understood?
Thank you, Em. Felicity sniffled. We were so daft. It was all jealousy, really, because you got out. Got your home, made a life. Were all stuck in that old muck
Jealousys a nasty habit. Emma shrugged. Now, have some tea. Ill get the bed sorted.
Felicity stayed five days, quiet as a mouse, dishes done, shoes lined up. She soon found a room to rent and left with a hug and a grateful smile.
For Felicity, it was a turning point. She got a divorce, found a job, dramatically reduced time with her toxic branch of the family. She and Emma now shared the occasional film or coffee.
Mabel, predictably, never thawed. But Emma didnt mind. Sitting on her sofa, book in hand, glass of wine poised, lights of the city twinkling beneath her windows, she understood: My home is my castle isnt just an old saying here its survival strategy. Sometimes, to keep your castle cosy, the best thing you can do is pull up the drawbridge even if the would-be invaders have the same surname.
