My husbands sister once left her children with us and disappeared for three days
Please, Emily, please! Its a matter of life and death, really! I havent anyone else to ask, mums at the cottage and her blood pressures all over the place I darent worry her, and you, my darling sister-in-law youre the most understanding! Margaret chattered so quickly, all her words blurred together. Emily could only just pick out phrases like urgent, just till this evening, be a lifesaver.
Emily stood in her own hallway, one hand clutching a dusting cloth and the other restraining Bonnie, her wire-haired dachshund, who was barking furiously at the uninvited guests. The guests consisted of her sister-in-law Margaret and Margarets two sons: seven-year-old George and four-year-old Tommy. The boys had already stamped dirt onto the hallway rug and were now picking at the wallpaper with inquisitive fingers.
Margaret, hold on Emily tried to wedge in a word. What do you mean this evening? Its Friday. Robert and I planned to drive to the countryside after work weve booked the spa hotel for the weekend. Been waiting two months for this.
Margaret flung her arms dramatically, nearly sending her enormous bag tumbling to the ground a bag that appeared to be stuffed with childrens things.
Oh, what spa? Youre young, you have time for all that! My whole lifes at stake! Ive got well, an interview. In Reading. Really promising job, flexible schedule, pay thatll make your head spin. If I dont go now, I might lose the chance. Im doing this for the boys, to give them a better life! You know Im on my own, child supports barely enough to get by
She gave a pitiful sniff and big, woeful eyes her poor single mum act, one that Margaret performed to perfection.
At that moment Robert, Emilys husband, emerged from the kitchen, munching a cheese sandwich. He stopped short at the sight of his sister and nephews.
Maggie? Youre here? Were off in an hour.
Robbie! My lovely brother! Margaret rushed over, nearly knocking his sandwich to the floor. Help me, please! I need to dash out just for a day. I promise Ill be back by lunchtime. George and Tommy will be angels, youll barely notice them. Pop a cartoon on, give them some biscuits, and thats that.
Robert shot his wife a helpless look torn between sympathy for his sister and dread at the looming disaster. Always the soft touch, and Margaret knew it.
Em maybe we should put the trip off? he ventured, uncertain. Margarets job hunt, you know. Its really important.
The booking is non-refundable, Emily replied quietly, but with edge. And Im completely shattered after this week, Rob.
Ill make it up to you! Margaret cut in. With my first pay packet, Ill pay you back for the booking, throw in a slap-up meal! Please! What else can I do, leave my boys at the childrens home for the weekend?
At that, Tommy gave a huge sneeze and wiped his nose on his sleeve. George had already snuck off into the lounge and was blaring the TV.
Fine, Emily sighed, feeling an impatient irritation simmer within. But only till lunch tomorrow. Not a minute later than two, Margaret. If youre not here, well take the boys to your mums at the cottage, regardless of her blood pressure.
Youre a saint! An angel! Margaret pecked Emilys cheek, leaving a sticky print from her lipstick, whisking the boys coats off, handing Robert a bulging carrier bag, and before the boys could even say goodbye, swept out the door. You can always reach me! Love you!
The door slammed. Silence fell, broken only by adverts booming from the television.
Well, Robert said with a sheepish grin, So much for a restful weekend.
Its fine, Emily replied, heading to the kitchen, refusing to look at the muddy prints in the hallway. Well manage for a day. As long as they dont destroy the flat.
The first few hours were, all in all, manageable. The boys, faced with a big TV and a bowl of sweets, sat content. Emily opened the bag Margaret had left; inside she found two sets of underwear, a single set of tights for both, a battered tablet with a cracked screen, and some cheap crisps. No medicine. No favourite toys. Not even a scrap of decent food.
She didnt even pack pyjamas, Emily muttered, rummaging through the things. Not a toothbrush in sight.
Ill nip to the shop, Robert offered. Get toothbrushes, milk, some cereal. Theyll need something for breakfast.
The evening took a turn downhill when Tommy, stuffed with sweets, refused proper supper. Dont want soup! he wailed, smearing mashed potato on the table. Want chicken dippers! Mum always gets dippers!
We havent got any, Emily replied, forced patience in her tone as she cleaned up. But we have lovely homemade fish cakes. Why not try one?
Yuck! The plate went flying.
Bonnie the dog dashed over, hoovering up the fish cake while Emily fetched a cloth. George, emboldened, pushed away his own plate. Not eating that either. Uncle Robbie, order a pizza.
George, pizzas not healthy, Robert tried, a tentative show of discipline. Eat what Aunt Emily made.
Mum says cookings for mugs, its easier to get takeaway, George retorted, all seven years of wisdom on display.
Emily and Robert exchanged looks. A long night lay ahead.
Eventually, they managed to feed the boys on sandwiches and tuck them into bed on the pull-out sofa, dressed in old t-shirts of Roberts, since there were no pyjamas. It was gone midnight when the couple collapsed into bed.
Shell be here by two, and well be off, even if its only to the cinema, Emily repeated, mantra-like.
Of course, murmured Robert, putting his arm around her. Sorry, love. Maggie shes hopeless, but she means well. Just scatterbrained.
Saturday began with a bang at seven. George, exploring the contents of the kitchen cupboards, managed to knock over a jar of barley, spraying grains all over the floor.
Didnt mean to, he grunted, as a bleary-eyed Emily entered.
Never mind, she sighed, counting to ten. Fetch the broom and help clear up.
Dont know how, George replied. Mum does the cleaning. Or Gran when shes down. Im a bloke, arent I?
By two, the flat looked like the scene of a small disaster. With no toys, the boys had used sofa cushions to build a fortress, cut up Emilys magazines for crafts, and attempted to train the cat who wisely took refuge on top of the wardrobe.
Lunch was done, bags packed. Emily kept one wary eye on the clock.
2:00. No knock.
2:30. Nothing.
Ring her, Emily told Robert.
He called. Endless ringing. Then the robotic: The person you are calling is currently out of signal.
Maybe shes on the road? Robert offered. Coverage can be patchy
Since when do job interviews happen on Saturday, Rob? Honestly, do you believe a word of this?
They waited till evening. Margarets phone was still dead. Tommy began to whimper for his mother. George turned surly, demanding the tablet, which was flat, and obviously Margaret hadnt packed the charger.
Shes not coming, is she? Emily stated as dusk settled outside. This is disgraceful.
Maybe her phone really has died. Or the coach broke down You never know Robert grasped at excuses, his face growing ashen. He knew his wife was at breaking point.
That night was rough. Tommy wet the sofa, so they had to change the covers in the middle of the night. George insisted on the hallway light being left on, afraid of monsters. Emily barely slept a wink.
Sunday morning. Margarets phone: still nothing.
Im calling your mother, Emily told Robert at breakfast.
Dont! Please. Robert turned pale. She had a hypertensive crisis last week. If she finds out Maggies gone missing Please, lets wait until evening. Shed never just abandon her children altogether, would she?
Rob, weve work tomorrow. I have reports due, I need to be in the office by eight. Whos looking after them?
Ill take a day off, Robert promised, voice low.
Then the thing Emily had dreaded. While running about, Tommy knocked over a floor vase a wedding present from Emilys parents. The crash of shattered glass felt like the loudest sound in the world.
Wasnt me! George shouted at once. It was Tommy!
Emily silently fetched the dustpan and brush. She wanted to cry, but no tears came just a cold, furious silence. She swept, cleaned, and then found Robert, sitting glumly in the bedroom.
If shes not back by tomorrow morning, Im going to the police and social services, Emily announced. Shes abandoned her boys here. Ill file a report.
Emily! Robert jumped up. You cant! Shes my sister! Are you really going to have them taken into care?
I want your sister to take responsibility for her children! Emily snapped. Were not paid nannies! We have our own lives, Robert. Why do we have to sacrifice our plans, our things, our peace, because she wanted to swan off?
Shes working!
Shes on a spa weekend, you mean, said Emily, picking up her phone. Look at this.
She pulled up the social media stories. Margarets profile was locked, but Emilys friend Sarah was friends with her too. On Sarahs suggested posts was a photo Margaret, in a swimsuit, cocktail in hand, sunning herself by the pool at the Riverside Spa Hotel. Caption: Finally, a well-earned rest! Ladies, we deserve this! The upload time: three hours ago.
Robert stared, face burning. Its probably old
Timestamp is today, said Emily crisply. And havent you seen that swimsuit in the shops? New season. Shes lied to us. She left her boys with us so she could have a holiday.
Robert sank onto the bed, covering his face. What do we do?
I told you what Ill do. Tomorrow morning Im taking them to the office and sitting them in a meeting room. Then you call your mother. She can fetch her grandsons herself, or ring Maggie and drag her out of the spa. I dont care. Ive had enough.
Sunday night was the worst yet. Tommy was running a temperature stress, unfamiliar food, caught a chill from the open window (theyd been airing out the boys room). The thermometer showed 101.3F. Emily gave childrens paracetamol, sponged his brow, made him drink she didnt sleep at all. Robert paced the flat.
At seven Monday morning, Margarets number finally came online.
Shes back! beeped a notification.
Robert rang her at once.
Hello? Margaret sounded drowsy and irritable.
Maggie, where are you?! Robert shouted, so loud George woke in the next room. What do you think youre playing at?!
Oh, calm down! Margaret groaned. Interview went on longer, had to stay over. I told you it was urgent
What sort of interview takes place at a spa hotel?! We saw the photos! Youre sipping cocktails while Tommys burning up!
Silence. Then, shrill: Are you spying on me? Cant I have a private life? Maybe I met someone! If anything happens to Tommy Ill have the law on you he was fine when I left!
Come get your sons. Now. Or I call social services, Robert replied, voice steely and cold a tone Emily had never heard from him.
Im on my way, you drama queens!
Three hours later, Margaret breezed in, reeking of perfume and sunshine, glowing and tanned. She made a show of rushing to Tommy, who lay under a blanket on the sofa.
My little angel! What have they done to you? Starved you? Caught a chill? She turned an accusing glare on Emily. I knew you were useless with children! Youve none of your own how would you know what to do?
That was too much. Emily saw red. Three years of trying for a baby with no joy, and Margaret knew every bit of it.
Get out, Emily said, voice quiet but steely.
What?
Out. Take your boys. I dont want to see you or them in my home, ever again.
Oh, I bet! Margaret sneered, grabbing scattered belongings, hustling George and Tommy toward the door. Come on, lads, lets go home. Mummy will buy you toys and nice things unlike these horrible people.
You owe us, said Robert, standing with arms folded at the door. The vase £60. Food £40. Childrens medicine £15. For the damage to our weekend? Ill let that one go. All told, £115. Transfer it now.
Youre joking? Charging your own sister?
You had money for a spa hotel youve got money for what you owe us. Or Ill ring mum and tell her about the interview and show her the photos. She can decide what she thinks of your priorities.
Margaret glared. Fuming, she pulled out her phone, stabbed the buttons. Roberts mobile pinged with the transfer.
Take it and choke on it! Youll never see us again!
Boys in tow, Margaret slammed out.
Emily slumped onto the sofa. The flat still smelled of medicine and childrens sweat, sweet wrappers were everywhere, and a greasy patch from a flung fishcake decorated the wall.
Robert sat beside her, squeezed her hand. Im sorry, he said hoarsely. Ive been a fool.
Youre not a fool, just a brother. But you know what her emergencies cost us now.
I do. Never again. I promise.
They sat there for a half-hour in silence, then stood and got to cleaning floors scrubbed, laundry done, windows thrown wide. With each sweep and wipe, they shed the stress of those mad three days.
That evening, the phone rang. It was Roberts mum, Mrs. Turner.
Hello, Emily dear, her voice faint over the line. Margaret called in tears, said you threw her out, wouldnt help with the boys, demanded money Is it true, really? How can family treat each other so?
Emily took a deep breath. In the past she might have tried to explain or soothe but those three days had changed her.
Mrs. Turner, she said levelly, Margaret hasnt told you everything. If you want the truth, ask her what hotel she stayed at for her interview in a swimming costume. Or better yet, visit us when youre up to it we can show you some video, like George saying, Mum says cookings for mugs. Theres plenty to discuss.
There was a thoughtful silence, then a sigh. I see, Emily. I see. Please, forgive my foolish girl. I spoilt her, didnt I?
We bear no grudge, Mrs. Turner. Weve just learned our lesson.
She hung up.
You know, Emily said to Robert, who still watched her with worry, Lets get pizza. A big, cheesy one. And a bottle of wine. Weve earned it.
What about the spa hotel? Robert replied.
Well go next weekend, and switch off our phones both of them.
They kept their word. And when the next week Margaret lit up Roberts screen, he set his phone to silent and left it there. Lesson learned, boundaries reinforced; family ties, they realised, hold far better when held at a sensible distance.
