Relatives from the countryside turned up for a weeks visitall five of themin our one-bed London flat. I greeted them covered in green polka dotsmeasles, supposedly.
My Saturday morning began not with a cup of tea, but with the ringtone of my mobile. On the screen, a name flashed: Aunt Margaret (relative).
Ellie, love, were on our way! Aunt Margarets voice rang with so much cheer it put any alarm clock to shame. Weve decided to surprise you! To see the sights of London and spend time with you both. Were family, after all!
I sat up in bed, trying to process what Id just heard. The most worrying word in that sentence was we.
And who exactly is we, Auntie? I asked, nudging my husband, Simon, urgently under the duvet so hed wake up.
Oh, you know! Me, Uncle Richard, Heather and her husband, and little George. No need to worry, honestlywere not fussy! Just somewhere to sleep; well be out all day seeing the sights.
Five people. Plus the two of us. In a thirty-three square metre flat, where the only spare spot is the entry mat and a narrow path between the settee and the telly.
I hung up in silence and looked at Simon. His face radiated pure terrorand that secret look of longing, to instantly flee the country or at the very least, pop out for a loaf of bread and return after seven days.
Overfamiliarity is worse than theft
The last time they visited was three years ago, but just three of them thenand I still have nightmares about that week. Uncle Richard smoked on the balcony, flicking ash into my plants with a, Oh, dont fuss, its fertiliser. Aunt Margaret insisted on showing me how to make a proper shepherds pie, pressed up against me in my tiny kitchen, No, look, let me show you. Simon and I slept on an air mattress that deflated by morning, so wed wake up on the cold, hard floor, while the guests commandeered our settee with regal entitlement.
Now there were five. Heather and her husband: noisy and raucous. Little George: a seven-year-old whirlwind who saw the word no as a personal dare.
Well have to say no, Simon said firmly, staring at the ceiling.
How? Theyre already on the train! Tell them to turn back? You know what Aunt Margarets likeshell lecture about the bonds of family, how she changed my nappies, and tell the whole village I turned away my own. And then my mumll get all worked up from the shame.
When diplomacy fails
We sat in the kitchen, cradling mugs of tea and recounting hopeless options. Booking them a place to stay was outthe car repair wiped out our savings. Let them have the flat, and we go crash with friends? Surrender, and who would take us in for a week? Pretend not to be home? Theyd bang on the door until they called the fire brigade to break in.
Then, inspiration struck. I needed a reason no one would argue with. Something to make them run for the hills.
Measles, I whispered.
What? Simon blinked.
Measles. Quarantine. For adults, its a nightmare: high fever, complications, possible scarring.
Simon hesitated. What if theyve already had it?
Mum said Aunt Margaret and Uncle Richard never did. Heather, Im not sure, but with the kid, they wont risk it.
Operation Green Dots
With four hours until their train arrived in Euston, we swung into action. I dug out an old green face paint stick from the medicine box.
Dont be shy, I instructed, presenting my face. Forehead, cheeks, neck, handsthe lot. The more hideous, the better.
Simon, giggling, dabbed big green spots all over. In the mirror, I looked like a childs attempt at camouflage. For extra effect, I slipped on a baggy dressing gown, wrapped a scarf round my neck, and tousled my hair.
What about me? Simon asked.
Exposure. Youre a walking incubator. Even worse.
We rehearsed the story: I fell ill yesterday, temperature over 39 degrees, the doctor warned of a strict quarantine and a particularly nasty strain.
Maybe just a cuppa?The showdown
Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Outsidethe bang of suitcases, the hum of voices, and Georges whinging. I shuffled like a ghost and Simon wedged himself in the doorway, blocking entry.
Simon, why werent you there to meet us? Uncle Richard was already trying to barge inside.
Dont! Dont come in! Simon barked, firm as a bouncer. Weve had a disaster.
And then I appeared, shuffling in slippers, one hand on the wall for support, breathing heavily.
Hello I croaked. Sorry. Measlesbad case. The doctor said its contagious, even through the vents.
A stunned silence swept the landing. Five pairs of eyes took in my green-spotted face.
Measles?! Heather instinctively pulled her son back, shielding him. At your age?!
Weak immune system I groaned. Fever complications
I could almost hear Aunt Margarets brain weighing the lure of free accommodation against impending doom.
Richard, did you ever have it?
Not sure… Dont think so Uncle Richard was already backing towards the lift.
Nor did I! Heather chimed in, flustered. Mum, shall we just find a hotel?
And your Simon? Aunt Margaret asked, suspicious.
Ill be next, Simon said with morbid certainty. Share the bed, just waiting my turn.
That was all they needed. The idea of sharing our flat with infectious patients sent the lot of them scrambling.
Get well soon, Uncle Richard muttered, pressing the lift button. Well take our bits with us. Theyll come in handy at the hotel.
The lift doors shut, taking their bags, preserves, and our dilemma with them.
It was like a weight lifted
We closed the door behind them and Simon slid down the wall, howling with laughter. I gazed at my ridiculous reflection before the mirror and we both burst out laughing together.
Theyd found a hotel soon enough. Turns out, they always had the moneywhy spend it if you could crash for free?
A couple of days later, Mum rang up.
Eleanor, whats all this? Margaret says youre green and at deaths door!
All bounced back now, Mum, I cheerfully replied. Modern medicinemiraculous stuff.
I never told her the truth. Best they think I have a dodgy immune system, rather than a dodgy character.
The green came off, and we spent the weekend in peaceful silence, ordering takeaways and revelling in every square inch of our tiny, utterly free flat.
