Please, Grace, honestly, its a matter of life and death this time! Youre my only hope Mums at the allotment, blood pressures all over the place, so I cant upset her. But youre my favourite sister-in-law! Please, youre so understanding! The words tumbled from Evelyns lips in a restless swell, so tangled with panic and odd apologies that Grace only caught snatches: urgent business, back by tonight, save me.
Grace stood in the doorway of her little flat, a checkered duster in one hand, the other gripping the lead of Bonny, her excitable dachshund, who barked furiously at their guests. The guests: her sister-in-law Evelyn, and Evelyns two sons Charlie, seven, and little Frank, four. The boys had already trampled muddy footprints across her doormat and now pressed sticky fingers to the hallway wallpaper as if searching for a secret portal.
Evie, hang on, Grace attempted to wedge herself into her sister-in-laws monologue. What do you mean tonight? Its Friday. Harry and I were going away for the weekend weve booked into that spa hotel in Dorset. Weve looked forward to this for months.
Evelyn tossed up her hands, almost sending her colossal bag tumbling it bulged with what seemed to be childrens things and the ghosts of half-packed picnic lunches.
Oh, never mind the spa! Youve all the time in the world, youre young Ive got to think of my boys! Theyve offered mewell, I have an interview, out of town. Brilliant job, brilliant money, flexible hours. But if I dont go now, Ill miss my chance entirely. I dont get decent maintenance from Pete, you know I dont…
She sniffed and gave Grace her best expression of battered-parent misery, which Evelyn wielded like a magic wand.
Just then, Harry, Graces husband, emerged from the kitchen, sandwich in hand. He froze at the sight of Evelyn and the raucous nephews.
Evie? Didnt you get my text? Were off in, what, an hour?
Harry! Oh, you wonderful brother! Evelyn swooped at him, nearly knocking him over with her rucksack. Im desperate. Its only a day, honestly. Ill be back by lunchtime tomorrow, cross my heart! Charlie and Frank are angels, you wont even notice them. Put on cartoons, give them some digestives easy as pie.
Harry darted an imploring glance at Grace: that mixture of sibling sympathy and terror at marital argument. Soft Harry, such easy prey for his sisters irrational tides.
Grace, maybe could we postpone? Evies job-hunting. Its important, he said, tone sheepish.
The bookings non-refundable, Grace replied, voice quiet but clipped. And Im shattered as it is.
Ill make it up to you, honestly! Evelyn barged back in. First pay packet, Ill cover the hotel! And host you both for dinner! What else can I do? They cant go into foster care for the weekend, can they?
Frank sneezed thunderously, wiping his nose on his sleeve; Charlie had already found the living room and switched the telly to full volume.
All right, exhaled Grace, her patience already wearing thin. But only until tomorrow, lunch at the latest. If youre not here by two, Evie, well drive them to your mums, and I dont care about her blood pressure.
Youre a saint! An angel! Evelyn planted a lipstick-smeared kiss on Graces cheek, dumped the childrens things on Harry, and dashed from the hallway without so much as a proper goodbye. Ill text you! Love you!
The door closed. Silence filled the flat, punctuated only by the blaring of adverts in the next room.
Well, thats relaxing, Harry ventured, apologetic.
Its fine, Grace said as she headed to the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the muddy corridor. We can manage. As long as they dont tear the place apart.
The first hour passed in a daze; the boys, mesmerised by sweets and CBeebies, sat placidly. Grace poked through Evelyns bag: two sets of underclothes, a shared pair of tights, a battered iPad with its screen like a spiders web, a cheap pack of crisps, and not so much as a toothbrush or bedtime story.
She didnt pack any pyjamas, Grace murmured, sifting through the debris. Not even a toothbrush.
Ill nip down to Tesco, grab some bits cereal, milk, toothbrushes, Harry replied instantly.
The gentle lull lasted til dinnertime, when Frank, stuffed with sweets, rebelled at the sight of proper food.
Dont want stew! he wailed, smearing mash across the table. Want nuggets! Mummy always gets nuggets!
There arent any nuggets, Grace explained patiently as she wiped the table. Eat your own little burgers, theyre home-cooked.
Yucky! The plate soared to the floor.
Bonny, delighted, darted under the table to wolf down the dropped burger. Grace, jaw clenched, reached again for the duster. Charlie, emboldened by his siblings example, pushed his meal aside.
Im not eating it, either, Uncle Harry. Order pizza.
Pizzas unhealthy, Charlie try what Aunt Grace made, Harry attempted, a feeble edge to his fatherly reasoning.
Mum says cookings for mugs. She orders takeaway its easier. Seven-year-old wisdom delivered with a shrug.
Grace and Harry shared a look. The evening stretched out before them, as long as a London bus queue in drizzle.
Eventually, the boys were coaxed into sleep on the sofa bed (Harrys ancient T-shirts subbed in for pyjamas). Grace and Harry collapsed into bed past midnight.
Shell collect them by two, and then maybe a film, at least? Grace whispered like a bedtime mantra.
Definitely, Harry insisted, squeezing her arm. Sorry. Evies shambolic, not mean-spirited.
Saturday dawned with the explosive crash of a glass jar against tile. Charlie had toppled a container of rice all over the kitchen floor while hunting for the biscuits.
Didnt mean to, he muttered when a sleep-tousled Grace appeared.
No matter, she said (after counting to ten in her head). Grab the broom, help me.
I dont know how, he replied matter-of-factly. Mum does it. Or Gran. Im a man, arent I?
By two oclock, the flat was a battlefield. With no toys in sight, sofa cushions became castle bricks, magazines became craft confetti, and the old cat was (briefly) conscripted before outsmarting them and wedging himself behind the boiler.
The living room was as ready as could be. Grace stared at the clock.
14:00. No ring.
14:30. Silence.
Call her, she said tightly.
Harry tried Evelyns number: endless ringing, and finally: This person is currently unavailable.
Probably on a train somewhere you know how reception is, Harry said, not sounding convinced.
On what interview, Harry? Saturday afternoon? Arms folded.
They waited until dusk. Still nothing. Frank began to whimper for his mother. Charlie got cross, clamouring for the now-dead iPad (Mum didnt pack the cable, did she?). And on and on.
Shes not coming tonight, Grace said, gazing at the darkening window. Its a bit much, Harry.
There could be a reason. Her phone mightve died, the train could have broken down… Harrys protests withered under Graces glare.
The night was a fitful blur. Frank had an accident; bed sheets were changed, sofa scrubbed. Charlie insisted on hallway lights to keep out the monsters.
Sunday broke to more radio silence.
Im ringing your mum, stated Grace at breakfast.
Dont, Harry said, panic flaring. Shes just out of hospital if she finds out Evies missing, shell collapse. Lets give it until tonight; Evie wouldnt just abandon them.
Were both back at work tomorrow, Harry. Whos watching them? My boss wont accept stranded nephews as an excuse.
Ill take a day off
Before long, calamity struck. Frank, during a mad dash across the carpet, sent the wedding-present vase from Graces parents crashing to smithereens.
Wasnt me! Charlie bellowed. Frank did it!
Grace swept up the glass in silence, blinking back a fierce urge to cry, tamped down now to a bitter chill of exhaustion. When clean-up was done, she found Harry sunk onto the edge of the bed.
If shes not here by tomorrow, Im calling the police abandoned minors and all that. Social services, too.
I mean Grace, shes my sister Not the police, please! What about Frank and Charlie? You cant
She needs to be held responsible, Harry! Were not unpaid babysitters. We have our lives too! Why should we wreck our weekend and our home because she felt like dropping the boys off?
Shes working, not off having fun.
Oh, really? Grace whipped out her phone, face fierce. Look at this!
She pulled up social media. Evelyns account was private, but Alice, Graces mate, was in a few pictures. There, on Alices feed, a photo appeared: Evelyn in a swimsuit, clutching a cocktail, poolside at a countryside spa hotel, tagged finally, a well-earned break! Girls, weve earned this! posted three hours ago.
Harry stared, face mottling.
Im sure its an old photo
Timestamp is today, Harry. Thats a brand new costume from last weeks John Lewis haul. Graces words were ice.
Harry sank, head in hands.
What do we do?
I told you. Tomorrow morning, the boys come with me to work and you ring your mum. Let her ring her darling daughter and drag her from the spa pool. My patience is gone.
That last night was awful. Frank spiked a fever and staggered at 38.5. Grace gave Calpol, held cool cloths to his brow, sat up the entire night. Harry paced, useless and guilty.
At seven, Evelyns phone finally chirped to life.
Harry, shes online! Grace called.
Harry dialled before the screen could dim.
Evie! Where have you been? He let loose a yell that woke Charlie.
Oh, calm down, its early! Evelyn grumbled, voice thick with sleep. Interview ran late. I told you it was important.
At a spa hotel? We saw your photo! Franks ill, almost 40 degree fever!
A pause. Then Evelyn shrieked, Youre spying on me? No privacy in this family! Maybe Ive met someone! If Franks sick, whatve you been feeding him? I left them healthy. If anything happens, Ill have you in court!
Get here. Now. Or I call social services, Harrys voice, cold and dangerous, surprised even Grace.
Oh, for gods sake, Im coming! Drama queens!
Three hours later, Evelyn burst in, smelling of expensive perfume, lacquered with tan and contentment. She immediately flew to Franks side.
My poor darling! What have they done starved you? Frozen you? You, she turned to Grace, eyes like blades, I always knew you couldnt handle children. No wonder; you havent any of your own.
For a moment, the world flickered at the corners of Graces vision the cruellest shot. She and Harry had tried for years, fruitlessly, a pain Evelyn knew all about.
Out, Grace said softly.
What?
Get out of my home. Take your children. I never want to see you here again.
Oh, as if I care! Evelyn barked, grabbing errant belongings, corralling the boys. Come on, lets get away from these nasty people. Mummy will get you new toys and nice food…
You owe me, Harry declared, blocking the door.
Owe what?!
For the vase thats £50. Food, £30. Calpol and medicine for Frank, a tenner. Emotional support? Priceless, but lets skip it. Thats £90 total. Now.
Youre barmy! Charging family?
You had money for the spa. Youve got money for this or I tell mum every detail, photos and all.
Evelyn, all lip and lightning glare, stabbed her phone and sent the transfer.
Hope it chokes you. Dont expect us to ever help again!
She scooped up Frank, herded Charlie, and stormed out, the door reverberating in their wake.
Grace sat slowly, exhaustion washing through her bones. The flat reeked of Calpol and childhood, sweet wrappers dusting the floor; the fading trace of burger grease on the wallpaper.
Harry came, took her hand.
Sorry, he said, voice low. Ive been a fool.
No, Harry. Just a brother. But now you know exactly what her help costs.
I do. Never again, Grace. Promise.
They sat, silent, for a long while. Then, wordlessly, they set about putting the flat back into some semblance of order hoovering, scrubbing, airing out the rooms. With every speck cleaned, the house felt a little lighter, the tension slipping away.
That night, Graces mother-in-law, Margaret, rang.
Grace, dear, are you all right? Evelyns been sobbing to me. Said you threw her out, wouldnt watch the boys, even demanded money. Is it true? Youre family, after all…
Grace sighed deeply. Once shed have protested, made peace, soothed. But three surreal days had changed her.
Margaret, she replied gently but firmly. Evelyn left out a lot. Ask her which hotel she had her job interview at and what time the cocktail hour was. Or come visit when youre feeling better. Well show you the video where Charlie says his mum never cooks because thats for mugs. Theres quite a bit to discuss.
There was a long, resigned silence.
Oh, Grace I get it. Well. Dont hold it against her, shes been spoilt.
Were not cross, Margaret. Just were done.
Grace ended the call.
Harry, she began, as he glanced at her anxiously, shall we order a giant pizza? With all the junk? And pour some wine? Weve earned it.
What about the spa, Grace?
Well go next weekend. And both leave our phones switched off.
And thats what they did. The next Saturday, when Harrys phone flashed up Evelyn, he flipped it face-down and left it to ring. Lesson learned, boundaries drawn, and it turned out the ties of kin were at their strongest when kept pleasantly, safely, at arms length.
