“Im not cooking for everyone anymore! Only for myself and Annie.”
“Why not?” snapped Nicholas, affronted.
“Because in this family, Ive realised, everyone fends for themselves. So live with it!”
“Mum, wheres my breakfast?” Yvonne barged into the bedroom without knocking. “Im going to be late for school!”
Nina tried to sit up, but her head spun. The thermometer read thirty-eight point seven. Her throat burned, her chest rattled.
“Yvonne, Im ill Take something from the fridge.”
“Theres nothing in there! Just yoghurts for the little one!” Yvonne stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Its always about her!”
From the nursery came a wail. Annie was awake. Nina forced herself up. Her legs wobbled, black spots dancing in her vision.
“Nina, wheres my shirt?” Nicholas called from the bathroom. “The blue striped one?”
“It should be in the wardrobe”
“Its not there! Did you iron it yesterday?”
Nina leaned against the wall. Yesterday shed spent the day feverish, struggling to care for the toddler.
“No, I didnt get to it.”
“Brilliant! Ive got a meeting!” He slammed the bathroom door in frustration.
Annies cries grew louder. Nina shuffled to the nursery, scooping her up. The little girl clung to her, sniffling.
“Mum!” Yvonne shouted from the kitchen. “Theres literally nothing here! Not even bread!”
“Moneys on the table. Buy something on your way.”
“Im not stopping at the shop! Ive got an exam! Besides, feeding us is your job!”
Silently, Nina carried Annie to the kitchen. She pulled frozen burgers from the freezer, slapped a pan on the hob.
“And make pasta!” Yvonne ordered, eyes glued to her phone.
While breakfast sizzled, Nicholas emerged in a crumpled shirt.
“Had to wear this one. I look like a tramp. Thanks for that.”
Nina said nothing. Speaking hurt, and she had no energy left for explanations.
“Its Sophies birthday today,” Yvonne announced, piling pasta onto her plate. “Im going round hers after school. Ill be back late.”
“Yvonne, I feel awful. Could you stay and help with your sister?”
“Yeah, right! Ive been waiting months for this party! Besides, I never asked for a sister. Thats your problem!”
She grabbed her bag and slammed out.
Nicholas scrolled through his phone as he ate.
“Nicholas, could you come home early? I really dont feel well.”
“Cant. Work drinks tonight. Priorities, love.”
“But Im sick”
“Take something. Paracetamol or whatever. Youre not bedridden. Tough it out.”
He pecked her sweaty forehead and left.
Nina was alone with Annie. The toddler demanded attention, food, play. She moved through the motions, feeling her strength drain.
By lunch, her fever hit thirty-nine. She managed to feed Annie, put her down for a nap, then collapsed on the sofa. Her head pounded, her heart raced.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Yvonne: *Mum, send money for Sophies present. Urgent!*
Nina didnt reply. She couldnt even lift the phone.
Nicholas returned first, tipsy, carrying a bag of crisps.
“Got beer and snacks! Match is on!” He flopped onto the sofa and turned on the telly.
“Nicholas, feed Annie, please. I cant move.”
“That bad?” He finally looked at her. “Why are you so red?”
“High fever. All day”
“Well, call an ambulance if its serious. Wheres Annie?”
“In bed. Shell wake soon.”
“Fine, Ill feed her. When shes up.”
Half an hour later, Annie woke crying for her mum. Reluctantly, Nicholas peeled himself from the telly and picked her up.
“Why the fuss? Come to Daddy!”
But the little girl squirmed, wailing harder.
“Nina, she wants you!”
“Give her a biscuit from the cupboard. And juice.”
“Where? I cant find anything!”
Nina forced herself up. The room tilted. She fetched a biscuit, poured juice. Annie calmed slightly.
Yvonne returned after midnight. Nina lay awake, feverish.
“Why didnt you reply?” Yvonne snapped. “I had to borrow money from Sophies mum! So embarrassing!”
“Yvonne, Ive been burning up all day”
“So? Couldnt pick up your phone? Two seconds!”
The next morning, Nicholas shook her awake.
“Nina, get up! Ive got work, and Annies screaming!”
Her fever had broken, but weakness lingered. She dressed Annie.
“What about breakfast?” he asked.
“Make it yourself. Im taking Annie to nursery.”
“Me? I cant cook! No time!”
“Youll learn.”
Something in her tone silenced him. He muttered and stomped off.
When Nina returned, the flat was a mess. Dishes piled up, clothes strewn about. Normally, shed tidy immediately. Not today.
She showered, drank tea, and went back to bed.
That evening, the family gatherednot for dinner, but around an empty table.
“Mum, whats for dinner?” Yvonne asked.
“No idea. Whatever you make.”
“What?”
“Exactly. Im not cooking for everyone anymore. Just me and Annie.”
“Why?” Nicholas scowled.
“Because in this family, everyone fends for themselves. So get on with it.”
“Nina, whats got into you?” He reached for her, but she stepped back.
“Im done being your servant! Yesterday proved Im just unpaid staff.”
“Mum, I said sorry!” Yvonne lied.
“No, you didnt. Neither did your dad. No one even asked how I was.”
“Fine, sorry!” Yvonne huffed. “Are we meant to starve?”
“The fridge is full. Youve got hands. Cook.”
The first week was chaos. Yvonne threw tantrums, Nicholas grumbled and slammed doors. Nina held firm. She cooked only for herself and Annie, washed only their clothes, tidied only the nursery.
“Mum, my jeans are dirty! Everythings dirty!” Yvonne whined.
“The washing machines there. Detergents under the sink.”
“I dont know how!”
“Youll learn. Instructions are on the lid.”
Nicholas wore crumpled shirts to work, ate takeaways. Money dwindled.
“Nina, this is ridiculous! Eating out every day!”
“Cook at home. Cheaper.”
“I cant!”
“Try YouTube. Millions of recipes.”
The flat descended into squalordirty dishes, grimy floors, dust. Nina watched but didnt intervene. Only the nursery stayed clean.
Two weeks in, Yvonne attempted pasta. She forgot salt, overcooked itmush.
“Mum, help!”
“No. Learn.”
“Youre my mum! Youre supposed to!”
“Im here for underage children. Cooking gourmet meals isnt in my contract. Theres bread, milk, cereal. You wont starve.”
Nicholas tried scrambled eggs. Burnt them. Tried againedible.
“Look, Nina! I made eggs!”
She nodded and returned to her book. No praise, no fuss.
By week three, the flat was a tip. Yvonne sobbed over a mountain of laundry.
“Mum, please! Just this once! Ive got nothing clean for school!”
“You were home all yesterday. Couldve washed them.”
“I was doing homework!”
“And I work remotely, cook, clean up after Annie, take her out. I manage.”
“But youre the adult!”
“And you want adult privileges? Late nights, spending money? Then act like one.”
By months end, resistance crumbled. Yvonne learned to wash, cook basics, tidy. Nicholas mastered eggs, pasta, even simple soup.
One evening, Nina returned from the park with Annie. The table was set, dinner smelled good. Yvonne and Nicholas stood guiltily.
“Mum, we made dinner,” Yvonne mumbled. “I did salad, Dad roasted chicken.”
“Thanks,” Nina said calmly.
“Mum, were sorry,” Yvonne whispered. “We didnt realise how hard it is.”
“Nina, well do better,” Nicholas added. “Promise. Well help.”
Nina studied them. They hadnt changednot really. But fear of losing her, their live-in maid, had sunk in.
Now they knewcross her, and she might leave them with dirty dishes and crumpled shirts.
“Alright,” she said. “But remember.
