You won’t believe what happenedits one of those classic family dramas. So, Im sitting there one chilly December afternoon, my coffee getting cold while Im just trying to finish some work, and Mum rings me up. Instantly, I know somethings up because she starts the call with that slow, Lis-ten, sweetheartnever a good omen.
She dives straight in: Remember Samantha? Veras daughter? Technically your cousin or something.
Im like, Vaguely? I met her once at Nans funeral, must have been ten years ago.
But Mum brushes that off: Family is family. Well, shes got trouble. Her landlords selling up and she, her husband and their boy are about to be booted out.
Im rubbing my forehead at this point. Outside, its that grim British winter, skies all grey, my patience disappearing like my coffee.
Mum, Im sad for them, but how does this involve me?
Well! Youve got that massive three-bedroom flat all to yourself! Couldnt they stay with you for a bita month, maybe twojust until they find something?
No, I say, before really thinking.
Mums shockedshe was expecting a battle, but not a complete shutdown. How can you just say no? At least hear me out!
Mum, I dont know them, Im not opening my home to strangers, especially with a child, and especially when theres no clear end date.
Its just a couple of months! Sams husband is working, theyll save for a deposit and move out soon. Their boys eighthe cant be living on the street!
They can get a room, or a hostel, or even a cheap B&B.
Theyve got no money, love! Theyre basically being kicked out with nothing!
Thats not my problem.
And then Mum starts crying. Not dramatic sobsjust that quiet, heartbreaking sort with shaky breaths. I shut my eyes and just let her go on.
I dont recognise you anymore. Youre coldlike a stranger. Your own familys in trouble and you dont care.
They arent my close family, Mum. Theyre yours.
And that means theyre yours too! Have you forgotten what it means to help family? To be there for your own?
I work from home, Mum. I need my peace. My space. I cant live with strangers.
Its only temporary! Honestly, what difference does it makeyouve got three rooms! And youre rattling around all alone, you dont even have a cat. At least make some use of the place
There is useI live here.
Selfish, thats what you are. I never thought my own daughter would turn her back on family.
Im not refusing them a meal, Im refusing my home.
Round and round we go. Mums saying the same things, me giving the same answers. Finally, after what must be forty minutes, I realise Ive agreed twice to think about it and once might as well give it a try.
Fine, I say at last. But just a month. Two at most. And if things get messy, out they go.
Of course, of course! Oh Emily, youre a star! I cant thank you enough!
Except, inside, I feel absolutely dreadfulI know Ive just made a huge mistake.
Next morning, my buzzer goes off at 7am. I barely sleptIm groggy and grumpy. Open the door, and they barge right in: suitcases, carrier bags, boxes, and a very loud eight-year-old.
Emily! Darling! Samanthas all sunshine, pecks me on the cheek, and gushes, Thank you thank you thank you! Youve saved our lives!
Her husband, Jacka big guy in joggersfollows, and then their son, Adam, takes off on a wild tour of the flat.
Jack, bring the big bag! shouts Sam.
I count seven suitcases, four boxes and two massive plastic containers. For a few months, this is a lot.
Well settle in quickly, Sam assures me. You wont even notice us.
The first fortnight is a slow-motion chaos. I hide away in my room, work with the telly blaring from the lounge and Adam thundering around the corridor. I tell myself, its fine. Its only temporary. I can live with it.
Then Sam rearranges my kitchenits more practical this way. Jack sets up a chill zone on the balcony. Adam breaks the bathroom door handle, and no one lifts a finger to fix it.
Sam, I manage to catch her in the kitchen. We need to chat. Its almost been a month. Any luck finding a place?
Were looking, were looking, she says without glancing up from her phone. Everythings outrageously pricey now. But well sort it out soon, dont worry.
I need proper dates.
She gives me a looka cool change, a bit harder.
Emily, what do you expect? Us to sleep on the street? With a kid?
Im just
Were looking! Sam barks. What else do you want? Us on the train station benches?
Jack comes out of the living room.
Is there a problem?
I look at both of them. Their facesno longer grateful, no longer even awkward.
No problem, I say. And I head for my room.
Of course, there are problems. Every day, a few more. Jack always grabs the bathroom first thing, right when I have an online meeting. Sam moves my groceries to the bottom of the fridge, puts hers on top”more convenient. Adam cranks up cartoons at full blast every Saturday morning.
I work in bursts. I sleep with the TV muttering in the lounge. I wake up to clatteringJack dropping something in the hallway.
One day, I come home to find Adams toys all over my desk. Sams in my office chair, scrolling her phone.
Oh, youre back, she says, not moving. Hey, any chance you can get faster broadband? Yours is rubbish.
This is my work space.
So what? Adams got nowhere to play. His rooms tiny.
I quietly scoop up the toys and put them in the corridor. Sam sniffs but doesnt say a word.
Then the utility bill arrivesits double what Ive ever seen. I leave it on the kitchen table as we sit down to dinner.
We need to talk about expenses.
Jack chews silently. Sam cuts into her fishcake.
What expenses?
The bills. Theres three of you, one of me. Could we at least split it down the middle?
Sam puts her fork down.
Youre joking, right? Were family. What, you want us to pay rent or something?
Just the bills. Nothing else.
Bills? Jack looks up. Family help each other out. Youre squeezing money out of us when you know were in trouble?
Youve been here for almost two months. No rent. My internet. Im only talking about the bills.
You know what? Sam stands up. If youre that tight with your cash, just say so. Dont act like some hero.
Jack storms off, Adam grabs the last slice of bread, Jack calls over his shoulder, Stingy.
I just sit at the table, late into the night. Mums wordsfamily dutyecho in my head. I add up everything Ive spent. Wonder how much longer I can take this.
Next morning, I go into the loungethe three of them are watching telly.
Youve got a week.
Sam doesnt turn.
What?
One week to find a place and move out.
Now they both turn.
Are you mad? Jack jumps up. Where do you expect us to go?
Thats not my problem. Two months Ive given youno effort, no contributions, no respect for my space. Enough.
And who made you boss? Sam stands. Just because you lucked out with a flat? Think youre queen of the castle?
Im the owner. And I want you out.
You reckon your mum knows how you treat family? Jack edges closer. Should I ring her?
Go for it.
Sam grabs her phone, but I dont budge. Let her call. Let Mum shout, cry, blame mewhatever. My minds made up.
One week, I say. If youre still here after seven days, Ill get the council involved.
Sams spluttering, furious. How dare you! After all weve done to help you
You didnt help. You lived here for free. Thats a rather big difference.
I walk off, shut my door. Sit on my bed, knees hugged tight. My hearts racing, but for the first time, I feel calm.
That last week is hell. Sam pointedly stops cleaning, Jack accidentally breaks a corridor shelf, Adam scribbles on the wallpaper with marker pens. I take photos of everything on my phone.
Seventh day, they finally leave. Jack drags suitcases down the stairs, swearing under his breath. Sam turns at the door.
Hope you get exactly what you deserve.
I close the door behind them.
I walk through the flat, clearing out all their stuff. Open the windows to clear the stale air from the balcony. Move the kitchen back the way I like it.
By the evening, its my home again.
I pour myself a glass of wine, flop onto the sofa and just sit there knowinglythe phone quiet, Mum hasnt recovered from Sams rant yet. Shell survive.
You know, kindness is lovely. But kindness without boundaries is just weaknessand people always take advantage.
So I promised myself: never again. No more family duties. No more temporary stays. No more letting strangers into my home.
I finished my wine, washed my glass, and finally slept. First time in monthsin blissful silence.
