Marianne, love, I heard youre struggling a bit with money?
Marianne was slicing smoked salmon and wrapping it into pancakes. Her mother stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with the practiced flick of her wrist, using that old cast iron pan which had done years of service.
It was always Mariannes job to sort out the fillingsshe cut up the salmon shed bought at the market, grated cheese, chopped herbs, and spooned sour cream into a porcelain dish.
The whole family would gather at her mothers house on the last Sunday of November. It was tradition, the same every year. First, pancakes at Mums, then planning for New Years Eve.
Everyone sat round the long table: her sister, Emily, with her husband, Victor; Uncle Charles and Aunt Lydia; and her cousins, Alex and Peter. They tucked into pancakes, drank hot tea, chatted, and laughed.
Marianne, pass the salmon, please, Emily asked, reaching for the plate.
Here you are, Marianne replied.
Emily helped herself to a generous spoonful. Cracking bit of salmon, that. Nice and richmust be fresh.
Got it at the market. Bit pricey, to be honest, but you cant have bland pancakes.
Uncle Charles poured himself more tea. Right, family, lets sort out the big question. New Years is nearly upon us! Where are we celebrating?
The relatives glanced around. Emily was quick to answer. Well, where else? At Mariannes, obviously. Like every year. Her house is big enough for all of us.
Marianne looked up from her plate at her sister. Any other suggestions?
There arent really alternatives, Emily replied. Wed never squeeze into my place, and besides, its the tradition now.
Tradition, Marianne echoed softly.
Aunt Lydia dabbed her lips and set down her pancake. And Marianne, darling, you must do your chocolate cake: the one you always make. Its wonderful; we even reminisced about it for a full week last year, didnt we, Charles?
And dont forget more caviar this time, Uncle Charles chimed in, slurping his tea. You only brought a tiny jar last time. Vanished in thirty minutes! This year get two, or even threejust in case.
Marianne gazed at her relatives contented faces, those greasy pancake stains on their lips. Then she turned to her husband.
He was hunched over his phone, not joining in the chatter, but Marianne saw hed gone rigid. He was listening to everything. Silent, as always.
Her son, Max, sat with his headphones on, nodding along to his music. Sixteenhe had no time for adult conversations.
So, Marianne? Emily pressed. Do you agree?
All right, Marianne said softly.
But inside her, something snapped. Back home, her husband rounded on her as soon as they walked in.
Feeding that crowd again? Seriously? How long does this have to go on? Max and I have asked you for three years to put your foot down.
I dont know, Marianne replied, taking off her coat and hanging it up.
What do you mean, you dont know? You just agreedlike always! A nod and its done.
I said all right. I didnt say Id pay for everything myself.
Her husband paused, startled. What are you planning?
Youll see. Im not sure just yet, but Ill think of something.
She filled the kettle, pulled her laptop onto the kitchen table, and opened Excel. The empty spreadsheet appeared on the screen.
Marianne started thinking back to last years New Years dinner: meatsturkey and beef; fishsalmon; caviarred and black; seafoodprawns and calamari; fruittangerines, grapes, pineapple. Sweetschocolates, biscuits, marshmallows. Cakeher signature chocolate. She made a tally, stacking the numbers up. Drinks, bread, sauces, coffee, tea, all the extras went on too.
Then the year beforevirtually identical. Go back furtherthe same again. The amount was soaring; each year cost more than the last.
Her husband peered over her shoulder. So, whats the damage?
See for yourself. She pointed at the total.
He drew in his breath. Blimey. I had no idea. Thats nearly your monthly wage.
More than that. Closer to a month and a half, and I havent counted table decorations, candles, napkins, crockery. Thatll be another few hundred pounds at least.
You really spend that much every single year?
Every year. And they come, eat, drink, make merry! Hardly a proper thank you. Its just assumed.
So whatll you do?
Ill talk to them.
The following week, Marianne rang her sister.
Em, we need to talk.
Whats up? You sound odd.
Its about New Years. Can you pop round and well discuss?
Emily arrived early on Saturday, tense and frowning as she sat at the kitchen table, accepting the tea Marianne poured.
Well? Whats so urgent?
Marianne handed her a printout. Ive totted up what I spend on every family New Years. Have a look.
Emily skimmed the figures, then frowned. But we never asked you to buy black caviar and turkey.
You did! Last year Uncle Charles complained that chicken was boring and it had to be turkey or goose. So I got the turkey. And he requested more caviar, too.
Emily sipped her tea, then fixed Marianne with a new look. So, what are you after?
I cant keep footing the bill on my own. We need to work something outeither we split the cost equally, or each family brings their own contribution. Im happy to do the cooking and host, but Im not paying for everything anymore.
Emily looked at her in disbelief. Are you serious, Marianne? You skint or something?
No. Im just fed up with being the financier of everyones partythree years running!
But were family! Whats with all this accounting? Its not like were strangers.
Thats exactly what it isaccounting! I do accounts at work, remember? The number is a nasty surprise.
Is there a problem at home? Has your husband lost his job? Are you in debt?
Were fine. Both of us are working. I just want fairness for once.
Emily stood up, paced the kitchen, and stared out the window. You know, Marianne, it all seems so pettysquabbling over pennies with your own kin! Were not strangers.
Its not penniesits hundreds, even thousands of pounds! Want to see the itemised receipts?
No, thanks, Emily huffed. So you think were eating you out of house and home?
I never said that. I said I want to share the load. Its only fair.
Same thing. Youre calling us stingy.
Im not blaming anyone. Im offering a fair solution: we celebrate together and share, or this year Ill just cook for my own family.
Emily picked up her bag. Youve changed, you know. Used to be kinder.
I used to be a pushover. Now Im just worn out.
Next came a tense tea with Uncle Charles and Aunt Lydia, where Marianne explained everything and showed them the numbers.
Uncle Charles took the news worst. He waved his hands, nostrils flaring, claiming she was ruining family traditions, that in his day people had more heart.
Marianne, what are you doing? Im on a small pension! How can I afford all these fancy foods?
My salarys nothing to shout about! I manage it because I plan ahead.
Youre insulting us.
No, Im just saying what needed saying years ago!
Aunt Lydia was the last. Marianne rang her the next day.
Marianne, love, I heard youre struggling?
No financial troubles, Aunt Lydia. Im just done paying for a whole familys celebration by myself.
But were family, dear. Are we supposed to start counting pounds between relatives?
We should! Honesty starts at home.
Youre upset about something?
No! Just realised that I pay for the so-called joint celebration every year. Joint in name, solo in expense!
Is there any way we can help? Shall I make a salad?
You can! Thats exactly what Im hoping for. Everyone brings a little something. Thats only fair.
Silence reigned for a week. Marianne began planning New Years for just the three of themher, her husband, and Max. She picked a simple menu, made a shopping list, and started prepping. Her husband praised her for standing up for herself, saying it was long overdue.
Max was delighted. Mum, youre brilliant! Finally made your point!
But a week before New Years, late on Christmas Eve, Emily rang. She sounded tense, but calmer.
Marianne, are you in?
Im home.
Mind if I drop by?
Come in.
Emily arrived within half an hour, sat at the kitchen table. Marianne poured her tea and set out a plate of biscuits.
Right then. Weve discussed it as a family. We agree.
Agree to what?
To splitting the cost. Uncle Charles will bring drinks, Ill handle the meat and fish, Aunt Lydias on desserts and fruit. You and Mum do the hot dishes and sides. Sound fair?
Thats perfect. Thanks, Em.
On New Years Eve, relatives rolled in from early morning. Uncle Charles lugged in bags of drinks, mopping his brow. There you go. Hope thats enough.
Plenty, Uncle. Thank you.
Emily arrived with platters of cold meatsham, sausages, air-dried beefand some home-cured trout, as well as marinated prawns. Brought the best I could find.
Looks lovely, Em. Thanks! Marianne smiled.
Aunt Lydia came bearing a beautifully boxed cake, fresh fruit, and a big bag of chocolates. Ordered the cake from the bakerysupposed to be excellent. Picked the fruit up at the marketlovely and fresh.
Marianne served her roast: crispy-skinned chicken, potatoes with mushrooms, vegetable casserole. Everyone helped set the table.
The atmosphere was a touch awkward at first: Emily pursing her lips, Uncle Charles muttering about the youth of today, Aunt Lydia nervously straightening the tablecloth.
But gradually, as they all sat and tucked in, the tension began to ease. They ate, chatted, and shared stories.
By midnight, it almost felt like old times. Laughter, memories, and wishes for the new year.
Marianne watched her familyher husband deep in conversation with Uncle Charles about fishing, her son sans headphones for once, even Emily grinning as she recounted an odd tale from work.
After midnight, Uncle Charles loitered in the kitchen where Marianne was washing up. He picked up a tea towel and began drying.
You know what, Marianne? You were right. Absolutely spot on.
About what, Uncle?
About sharing the costs. Never crossed my mind before, never really reckoned what it all cost. Now Ive shopped for itI get it.
For once, Marianne felt not exhaustion and frustration after hosting, but genuine relief and joy.
She hadnt kept her concerns bottled upshe had spoken her mind. Shed identified what bothered her, named it, and her family hadnt fled or frozentheyd adapted.
Later, as everyone drifted off to bed, her husband hugged her in the kitchen. Im so proud of you, Mari. Really proud.
Why?
Because you said no when it mattered. Its the hardest thing with family, but you did itand found a fair, new way.
I was worried everyone would take offence, that theyd stop coming, that Id ruin everything
But nothings ruined. The traditions still hereonly now its equal. Everyone plays their part.
Marianne nodded. Yes, truly. Now it felt like a shared celebration, not her personal triathlon in the kitchen.
Tradition didnt die, she thought, it just evolved. Now its more honest, more just. Thats my real victory of the year.
Dont keep quiet, or simply put up with whats unfairspeak openly and seek solutions together. Thats what I managed, and I hope you can too.
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