I rather suspect my brother didnt exactly hit the jackpot when he got married. Honestly, at first, I tried to keep things amiable with my sister-in-law. My brother and his wife moved in with Mum and me for a spell. After that, I was shuffled into the box room, Mum decamped to the lounge, and the master bedroom was graciously surrendered to my brother and his wife. But from day one, Emilynot her real name, but you get the picturemade it plain that we were somehow beneath her. She was, after all, the daughter of a university lecturer. Apparently, this entitled her to waft about like the Queen of Sheba, never once bothering to cook or tidy. Im not the housemaid, shed say, chin held high, as though the very idea was laughable.
When Emily discovered she was pregnant, she said she needed absolute peace and quiet. Mum, never one for confrontation, just bit her tongue and carried on. Meanwhile, I apparently couldnt have my friends over anymore because, woe betide, Emily was living there.
She requested gourmet food and monastic silence. Mum now had to cook separate meals for her and us, which is exactly as fun as it sounds. I tried telling Mum not to go out of her way to pamper Emily, who was getting cheekier by the day. Closer to her due date, Emily insisted the unborn baby should have its own nursery. Her plan was to kick me into Mums already crowded lounge. That was the last straw. Emily burst into tears, shrieking as if wed thrown her out into the street in the middle of a storm. My brother immediately jumped to her defense and called me childish. In the end, Mum asked my brother to sort out their own living arrangements. Eventually, they moved out. For all I knew, their son could have arrived by carrier pigeon; I wasnt told when he was born, nor when he was christened. Emily bluntly told us not to bother with presents; apparently, cash was preferredfor the baby, of course. She even let slip the amount: £200.
Mum said she couldnt possibly afford that, after which we were promptly banned from seeing the child. At first, Mum was upset, but a little while later, they started bringing the lad round to see us themselves. Emily would occasionally leave her boy with us, for example, when she fancied a coffee date with friends or a little pampering at the nail bar. She always reclaimed him with a complaintthey dressed him wrong, fed him the wrong food. When he turned one, my brother and Emily dropped by, saying they needed to sort out the housing situation. Since they couldnt get a mortgage, Emily announced she would go back to work, leaving the child with, yes, me.
Youre at the teacher-training college, she said. Consider it work experience. We cant manage on your brothers salary, you know. Only thing is, we cant actually pay you. As for your lecturesjust transfer to part-time. You want to help out, dont you? said Emily.
Naturally, I refused outright.
I never could get through to my brother that his housing woes werent my responsibility. Why on earth should I sacrifice my future so they could save a bit on childcare? Still, Emily continued to grumble that I wasnt helping out with her son.
She called us selfish and declared she would never set foot in our house again. For about six months, she kept her word. Then, one afternoon, my brother arrived looking rather sheepish. Turns out, Emily found a job and met another man there. She divorced my brother and went straight for his wallet, demanding child support.
Now shes blackmailing my brother with visitation rights. He pays the maintenancehe gets to see his son. If not, she slams the door in his face. Only hitch: her new man isnt especially keen to marry herhes already got a wife of his own. So, Emily is still living in a rented flat, which, by the by, my poor brother is still footing the bill for. My brother has since apologised to us and says, next time, hell try to pick someone a bit more carefully.
