Holiday with Brazen Family: Time to Set Some Boundaries
Ive been putting up with this for a fortnight, Sam! Two weeks in this shed they have the nerve to call a hotel. Why did we even agree to this?
Because Mum asked us. Sarah needs a break, shes had such a hard time, mimicked my brother, rolling his eyes.
Truth be told, Aunt Sarahs life hadnt been easy, but pity was something Emma just couldnt muster. Not anymore.
Sarah, Mums sister, had always filled the role of poor relation expecting everyone to pick up after her. My suitcase wouldnt shut. With mounting frustration, I pressed the lid down with my knee, trying to force the zip across, but it just popped open again, spitting the edge of a beach towel out like a rebellious ribbon.
Through the wafer-thin plywood partition which, in this sad little guest house, passed for a wall I could hear shrieking. That was Jack, Aunt Sarahs six-year-old son.
Im not eating porridge! I want nuggets! the lad bellowed as if someone was sawing his leg off.
There followed the heavy thud of something landing (probably his bowl), a clatter of crockery, and the drawling, smoke-worn voice of Sarah herself:
Oh come on, poppet, do eat a little for Mummy.
Emma, be a dear and pop to the shop for his nuggets, will you? The childs beside himself.
My legs are killing me, I’ve no strength left.
I froze, gripping the suitcase zip. Emma! And Mum would run off at her beck and call, as always!
Sam, my brother, sat sulkily on the only wobbly chair in our little box-room, glowering at his phone. He hadnt even bothered to start packing. His rucksack was still an untouched heap in the corner.
Do you hear that? I whispered, nodding towards the wall. Shes got Mum running around after her again.
Emma, bring me this, Emma, get me that. And Mum, as usual, will drop everything and scurry off.
Dont, grunted Sam without looking up. Were home tomorrow.
Ive tolerated this for two weeks, Sam! Two weeks in this dump.
Why did we agree to come?
Because Mum begged us. Sarah needs a change of scene, her lifes been so rough, he echoed again.
I sat on the edge of the bed; the tired springs groaned beneath me.
No denying Aunt Sarahs misfortunes. But sympathy? Fresh out.
First, shed lost her first baby as an infant a family whisper of a tragedy. Then her husband, a hopeless drinker, drank himself into an early grave just a couple of years ago. She was raising two children by different fathers, living back in Grandmas flat with her latest Prince Charming her eighth, if you can believe it.
Sarah never fancied work, you see. She proclaimed her real role in the world was to spread beauty and endure, others were meant to provide the means for her tragic existence. Mostly my mother, Emma, who never lacked for a penny, if you listened to my aunt.
I walked over to the window. What a glorious view: bins and the wall of the neighbours chicken shed.
This trip was Mums idea. Lets all go together, as a family, to help Sarah get away for a bit. Help meaning Mum paid most of the fares, did the shopping, and cooked for the entire horde, while Sarah with her new friend Linda, whom shed bonded with beside the pool over a shared philosophy of total idleness simply lounged about.
Get your things together, I told Sam. Were all going out for a meal tonight. Farewell dinner.
***
Of course, the choice of restaurant wasnt ours.
Sarah announced she wanted something posh.
The restaurant was on the pier. They pushed two tables together, so we could all squeeze in, a rabble as I privately called us.
Sarah, squeezed into a sparkly dress threatening to split at the seams, presided from the head of the table, right next to her friend Linda a hefty woman with brassy, peroxide hair and a voice that shook the glasses.
Waiter! Sarah barked, not even glancing at the menu. Just bring us your best. Some grilled kebabs, salads, and a carafe of that red one.
Mum sat at the edge, giving a weary little smile. She looked shattered. No rest for her if Jack wasnt kicking off, Sarah had a headache, or Alice was bored.
Order the fish, Mum, you said you fancied it, I whispered, leaning over.
Oh dont be silly, love, too dear. She waved me off. Salads fine for me. Let Sarah have a good meal, shes really been through it.
I bit my lip. Been through it right.
Nearby, Jack, the six-year-old little prince, was battering a spoon against his plate.
Feed me! he crowed, mouth open, eyes glued to a tablet.
Sarah immediately dropped her chat with Linda, scooped up some mash, and stuck it in his mouth.
My darling boy, she crooned. Eat up, fill those little muscles.
Hes six, I blurted, unable to help myself. Surely he can feed himself?
Dead silence. Sarah turned her head, slow as thunder.
No one asked your opinion, dear niece, she drawled. When youve had your own children, then you can give advice.
My boys very sensitive. He needs looking after.
He needs to learn some limits, not eat in front of a screen, I retorted. He screams blue murder if he doesnt get his way. Youre raising a little tyrant.
Oh, I cant! Linda swooped in, deliberately loud. Sarah, look at her! Reckons shes the family psychologist now.
Eggs teaching hens, this is. You dont know life, missy, yet here you are, lecturing your elders.
Emma, bite your tongue, Mum hissed, tugging at my sleeve. Youll ruin the evening.
The meal dragged on endlessly. Sarah and Linda gabbled about men, gossiped about the hotel guests, bemoaned a womans lot.
Alice, cousin Sarahs eldest, just scrolled her phone and glared at us from under her fringe. Whenever Jack whinged for pudding, they ordered him the biggest sundae going.
When the bill came, Sarah clutched her chest, all theatrical:
Oh, I left my purse in the room! Em, can you pay? Ill give it back once were home.
You never will, I thought, watching Mum silently pull out her bank card.
It was always the same, every time.
***
We got back to the guest house after midnight. I headed straight for the shower, desperate to wash this evening off me.
The water was alternately freezing or boiling.
When I came out and started towards our room, I stopped dead outside the kitchen; laughter and hushed voices were leaking through the door.
Did you see the little madam? Linda was cackling. Sitting there, pulling faces.
She says he cant feed himself. Who asked your opinion, you little snot? Knows nothing about real life!
If you hadnt helped, Em, your daughter would be mucking cows in a field, not turning up her nose in restaurants.
Shes arrogant, empty-headed, got no boyfriend, no sense, just a load of attitude.
I held my breath, heart pounding in my throat, waiting for Mum to bang her fist on the table.
To say, Shut your mouth, Linda, dont you dare talk about my daughter like that. Or at least just leave the room.
But all I heard was Aunt Sarahs whine and a heavy sigh:
Oh, too right, Linda. Shes a hard one. Took after her dads lot always demanding.
Not like mine. Alice is a handful, but warm-hearted deep down.
But her she looks at us like were dirt. I cant eat when shes around.
Because you, Emma, spoiled her! Linda chimed in. Needed smacking more often when she was young.
Now look thinks shes royalty, treats her own mum like nothing.
Id have kicked her out years ago to fend for herself.
I pressed my forehead to the door frame. Mum said nothing.
She just sat there, drinking tea (or perhaps something stronger, given the whiff of alcohol) listening as her only daughter was torn to shreds.
Suddenly I straightened up. The door banged open as I strode in.
Silence.
Sarah, Linda, and Mum were hunched around the sticky plastic table, littered with leftovers and empty wrappers. Sarahs dress was coming apart under her arm; Lindas face was flushed and sweaty; and Mum Mum shrank away as soon as she saw me.
So Im an empty-headed girl, am I? My voice was as cold and steady as stone.
And you, Aunt Sarah, are you really the one with the good heart?
Sarah gulped, eyes bulging. Linda rose from her chair, looming dangerously.
You listening at doors, you little brat? she growled. Looking for trouble?
Hard not to, given youre shouting so much the whole hotel could hear, I took a step forward, staring right at Sarah. What, Auntie, cant swallow your food now?
You managed well enough when Mum picked up your tab just now. No problem then, was there?
Youre ungrateful! Sarah shrieked, face nearly purple. We welcomed you, you sneer at us!
Im old enough to be your mother, dont throw bread in my face!
Keep your precious money!
Its not the money, its your cheek! I let go at last. Youve leeched off Mum all your life!
One man, then the next, then your kids, then a new illness on and on!
Mum works herself silly so you can have your holiday, and you slate her behind her back!
Your daughters a foul-mouthed brat who treats you like a doormat, and you try to lecture me?
Your boys a manipulator who gets whatever he wants, and you cant say no to him!
Sarah just stared, lost for words.
Emma! Mum squeaked, leaping up. Stop right now! Go to your room!
No, Mum, I wont, I looked directly at her, every word heavy with pain. You just sat there letting them trash me.
Saying nothing. Letting them.
Linda pushed her chair away and lumbered towards me, red fists clenched.
Thats enough, you little madam, she snarled, raising her hand.
She swung for me. I didnt even have time to be frightened, only flinched, but the blow never landed Sam caught Lindas wrist in mid-air.
Dont you dare, he murmured. You lot have lost the plot. Aunt Sarah, pack your things. Were leaving.
Whos we? Sarah shrieked, realising shed lost the upper hand. Im staying put, Ive two days paid for!
Emma! Your children are attacking us! Maniacs!
And then Mum finally snapped. She rushed over, grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
Why did you have to start this? she yelled, bursting into tears. Youve ruined everything! Were supposed to be family!
How could you? How dare you cause such a scene?
Gently but firmly, I prised her hands off me. Something broke inside me, quietly and completely.
No, Mum. Im not ashamed. But you should be. For letting them treat us all like dirt.
And I turned and left the kitchen. Sam followed.
We packed in silence. In the other room Sarah bawled about her miseries, Linda loudly calling Sam and me every name under the sun.
Alice, woken by the racket, yelled at us for keeping her up.
Cant leave till morning, Sam said, zipping his bag. First bus is at sunrise. Well have to wait at the station.
Dont care, I tossed make-up into a bag. Better at the station than one more second here.
And Mum?
I paused, t-shirt half-folded.
Mums made her choice. She stayed in that kitchen to comfort her sister.
***
Emma doesnt speak to Mum now; Sam, either neither of us has forgiven her.
Mum has rung a few times, saying shed forgive us if we apologised to Sarah, but both Sam and I decided we didnt want forgiveness on those terms.
Enoughs enough.
If Mum likes bowing and scraping to her sister, shes welcome to it; as for us, our lives are all the happier free of relatives who take advantage.
And as I look back, my lessons clear: Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means standing alone because respect and dignity begin at home.
