So, you wont believe what happened this weekend. Remember how Ive told you about Toms sister, Rebecca? Well, she turned up with her family again but this time, the welcome committee was a bit different.
So its Friday evening, Id just finished a monster week at work you know how quarter-end gets in pharmacy management and Id honestly been looking forward to a nice, quiet weekend, maybe even a little trip to the Cotswolds. Just the two of us, away from spreadsheets, emails, and endless stacking of shelves.
But as Im washing up in our little kitchen, I look over my shoulder and theres Tom, nursing a mug of cold tea, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth and looking like someones just told him his dog ran away. Bec called, he says, all sheepish. She and Harry really want to come round, and Freddies excited to see his uncle again. Havent seen them in ages. I couldnt say no.
Ages? Tom, they were here two weeks ago. And before that over the May bank holiday. And its always the same. They rock up, empty handed, eat everything in sight, leave a bomb site of dishes and then clear off. Im left scrubbing pans for hours.
He sort of shrugs, mumbles about theyre family and how Harrys had his bonus cut at work, so things are tight. I just gave him the look. Ive heard it all before how hell do the shopping and clean up, but in reality, shopping means picking up a white loaf, a two-litre of lemonade and some no-frills ham, and after lunch, hes snoring away on the sofa, leaving me knee-deep in greasy roasting tins.
Six years married, youd think Id learn. Its technically my flat, inherited from my nan before Tom and I even met. Tom does alright, but half his salary goes on the car loan and sending a bit to his parents. And most of the proper home expenses fall to me food, bills, holidays, washing machine repairs, all of it.
I never minded, really. In the early days, I loved hosting his family. Id bake pies, do a Sunday roast, try out some tricky recipe from Delia. But over time, I noticed how Rebeccas visits became less about catching up and more like a cheeky all-you-can-eat. Shes got this whirlwind energy, always certain shes extra special, and treats our place like its her own private café, with five-star service.
So, as usual, Friday night, I do the big supermarket sweep. Trolleys overflowing need really good beef for a roast because Bec turns her nose up at chicken (Thats student food, she once whispered), smoked salmon for sarnies, at least three different cheeses, the lot. The sort of shop that has you wincing at the till. Nearly £80 gone, not what Id planned with my eye on a pair of boots Id been saving up for. Theyll have to wait until payday now.
I lug all the shopping up three flights of stairs no lift, obviously and when I get in, I see Toms already back, voice drifting from the bedroom. Hes on the phone to his sister. And her voice booms down the speakerphone you know what shes like going on about how theyve finally booked that holiday to Spain, right on the beach, babe, breakfast, lunch, dinner, the lot included. Theyve splashed nearly two grand, all in, because, hey, live once, right?
Tom, bless him, actually asks whether theyre not meant to be saving money after Harrys pay cut. Rebecca just laughs, one of those big, shameless laughs. Oh, we are! We hardly buy groceries now, no restaurants, no treats. I make Freddie sausages and mash. But hey, good thing weve got you guys your Danni always cooks up a storm. With what she serves, we can stuff ourselves silly over the weekend and survive on yoghurt till Wednesday. Cheaper that way! Oh, and she better not forget the smoked salmon, Fred loves it. See you at one, well be starving!
Well. There it was, everything plain as day. My stomach knotted. Theyve no money for food, but can book a fancy holiday? And Im meant to skimp on boots and slog for hours in the kitchen just so they can have a free feast? My hands actually went numb holding the bags, but it was nothing compared to that wave of anger and hurt welling up inside.
I didnt make a scene. I just put all the shopping away and by away, I mean the expensive stuff went deep in the freezer or tucked behind bowls in the fridge, all the treats and delicacies boxed up on the lowest shelves. I even split Freddies cake and hid half with the salmon and cheeses.
That night, I just microwaved some leftover shepherds pie and made Tom a cuppa. He didnt seem to notice the lack of culinary fanfare just swanned off to the TV. No mention of prepping for his oh-so-hungry family.
Saturday morning, and instead of my usual up-at-dawn routine pans banging, veg chopping, ovens on I had a proper lie-in, a shower, made myself a strong brew and cut a sneaky wedge of cheese for breakfast. Bliss. Silence. Book in hand, sun through the window, just the sort of morning Id been wanting for ages.
Near midday Tom finally stirs, padding into the kitchen looking baffled no smell of roasting, no sight of salad bowls or trays of sausage rolls. Dan, why arent you cooking? Bec and Harryll be here in an hour, arent we doing lunch? Did the cooker pack up?
Hasnt packed up, I said, cool as you like. Its just my day off. Thought Id relax for once.
He blinks, still not getting it. What do you mean, youre not cooking? Whatll we feed them?
Not sure, Tom, I said, eyes still on my book. You could make them some beans on toast if you want. Theres a couple of leftover fishcakes in the fridge. If thats not enough, the shops over the road your wallets in your jacket.
He laughs, like Im joking. Alright, alright, youve made your point. Wheres all yesterdays shopping anyway? I saw you haul those bags in.
Thats food for the week. Not being spent on people saving for their seaside break, I said, meeting his gaze. I heard every word of Becs phone call. Im done being their free caterer.
He flushed red as a beetroot, fumbling for words, but before he can say anything more, the doorbell rings. Right on time you could set your watch by them.
And in they trouped Rebecca in a loud tracksuit, hair in a messy ponytail, Harry trailing behind, as grumbly as ever, and sullen-faced Freddie glued to his phone. Bec bustles into the kitchen, sniffs the air, and looks confused.
Danni, whats going on, nothings cooking? We didnt have breakfast to save room for your roast. Come on, whats on the menu? Were starving!
I put my book down, leaned against the counter. Hi, Rebecca. Hey, Harry. Sorry to disappoint nothings cooking today. Were not doing lunch.
Rebecca actually blinks, fake lashes fluttering. Looks at Tom, then back at me, tone starting to wobble.
Tom said youd have food on! Kids need routine, Danni, Freddie especially. Its one oclock!
If Freddie needs his lunch on time, you should have fed him at home, I said with my best polite smile. Or popped into a café on the way here.
Harry grumbled, slumping at the table. Is this a wind-up? Danni, come off it, Im starving.
I didnt budge. Theres no salad, no roast. Last night I overheard Bec on speaker, talking about how handy it is to eat here to save up for your holiday. This house isnt your personal savings scheme.
Rebeccas face went so red I thought she might actually explode. She whirled on Tom. Were you on speaker, with her listening in? I bloody knew it. And so what if were saving? Were family! You havent got kids, what else dyou spend your money on? Family helps family!
I stood up straight, feeling years of resentment suddenly gather strength. Rebecca, you dont get to storm in here demanding three courses. This is my home, not a charity kitchen. For the last few months, your visits have cost me nearly £500. Thats money I earned, and Im not spending it to fund your all-inclusive holibobs. If you want a free meal, theres a soup kitchen in town.
She tried tears, she tried guilt Youd begrudge your nephew a Sunday dinner? but I didnt flinch. Harry even tried to get tough, but Tom bless him, for the first time he actually stepped in.
Leave it, he said firmly. This is Dannis flat, her money, her right. You lot show up with nothing, ask for everything, never once offer to help or even bring a cake! Thats not visiting, thats just taking the mick.
Rebecca snorted. So youd choose her over your own sister? Fine! Dont expect to see us again! Mum will hear about this!
Go ahead, I said. And maybe stop by Sainsburys for Freddies sausages on your way home youre clearly experts at budgeting.
And with that, they stormed out, slamming the door so hard the keys rattled in their bowl.
The flat was deliciously, gloriously quiet. I let out a long breath hands shaking a bit, but honestly, I felt lighter than I had in ages, like taking off a pair of shoes two sizes too small.
Tom just stood there awkwardly, then gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. Im sorry, Dan. You were right. I let it go on too long. I thought it was just family popping inbut I see it now.
All I wants a bit of respect, Tom. Your familys always welcome if they bring a cake, a smile, and some manners, and only after an apology.
He nodded, managed a sheepish grin. So since its just us today, how about I order pizza? Or Chinese? My treat. And Ill do all the washing up, promise.
I burst out laughing properly, and for the first time in days. Lets do pizza. And put that film on we keep meaning to watch, yeah?
While he faffed with his phone, I opened up the fridge, got myself an extra big slice of that lovely chocolate cake, made a fresh cuppa, and settled in at our spotless kitchen table. For the first time in forever, it truly felt like home and that weekend was all ours.
By the way, you owe me a coffee for this story, and youve got to tell me what youd have done.
