Mary, love, did I hear youre having money troubles?
I remember the way Mary would slice the smoked salmon, then wrap it in thin pancakes, just as her mother used to do. Her mum would be at the old cast iron frying pan, flipping pancakes with a practiced, nimble flick of her wrist.
Mary, as ever, was in charge of the fillings. Shed bought the salmon down at the local market, grated cheddar, chopped some chives, and set out a dollop of cream in a fine bone china dish.
The family always gathered at her mothers house on the last Sunday of November. It was tradition, like clockwork. First the pancakes at mums, then came planning for Christmas and the New Year.
Round the great oak table sat everyone: her sister Grace and Graces husband Richard, Uncle Charles and Aunt Margaret, her cousins Jack and Peter. They all ate pancakes, sipped steaming tea, chatted, and laughed.
Mary, pass the salmon, would you? Grace asked, reaching across the table.
Here you are, Mary replied, handing her the plate.
Grace took a hearty serving. This is lovely salmon. Nice and richI suppose its fresh?
Got it at the market, Mary said. It was pricey, but just right for pancakes.
Uncle Charles poured himself more tea. Now then, shall we discuss the important bit? Christmas isnt far off! Where are we celebrating?
They glanced at one another before Grace piped up. Why, where else? At yours, Mary, of course! Like every year. Your house is big enough for everyone.
Mary looked up from her plate and eyed her sister. Do we have any alternatives?
Oh, come on, wed never all squeeze into a flat, would we? And besides, its tradition.
Tradition, Mary repeated softly.
Aunt Margaret dabbed her lips and set her pancake aside. And do make your Black Forest cake, Mary. Nobody bakes it quite like you do. Last years was divine. Charles and I talked about it all week.
And more caviar, please, Uncle Charles added, noisily sipping his tea. Last year, we finished it in half an hour. The pot was tiny! This time, get two, or even three, so theres plenty.
Mary looked at her familys contented facestheir mouths shiny, their eyes expectantand then at her husband.
He sat there, eyes on his phone, silent, not joining in. But she could see how tense his shoulders were. Hed heard everything, as always, without a word.
Their teenage son, William, sat at the end, headphones on, nodding along to music. At sixteen, adult conversation didnt interest him.
So, what do you say, Mary? Grace pressed. Is that all right?
Fine, Mary agreed quietly.
But inside, something snapped. Once they were home, her husband started straight away:
Feeding the whole crowd again? Whens it going to stop? Will and Ive been asking you to say no for years now.
I dont know, Mary said, shrugging out of her coat.
What dyou mean, you dont know? You said yes! As usual. Just nodded and that was it.
I said yes, but I never said Id pay for everything myself.
He stopped dead in the hall, surprise on his face. What are you planning?
Youll see. I dont know exactly but I’ll think of something.
She went to the kitchen, put the kettle on, got out her laptop, and opened an Excel spreadsheet. The blank table appeared, waiting.
Mary tried to recall last Christmas: meatturkey and beef. Fishsalmon. Caviarred and black. Prawns and squid for seafood. Fruitclementines, grapes, pineapple.
Sweetschocolates, biscuits, marshmallows. CakeBlack Forest. She made a column, added up the numbers. Drinks, bread, sauces, coffee, tea, every little detail.
Year before, the same. The one before thatnot much different. The total crept up each time.
Her husband peeked over her shoulder. How much is it?
She showed him the sum. He gave a low whistle.
Blimey. I had no idea. Thats nearly your months wages.
More than that. Its a month and a half before Ive even finished tallying. I havent added the table decorations, candles, napkins, crockery. Thats another two or three hundred pounds, easy.
And you fork out that much every single year?
Every year. They come, eat, drink, have their fun, and barely even say thank you. They just expect it.
So what are you going to do?
Ill talk to them.
The following week, Mary rang Grace.
Grace, we need a word.
Whats up? You sound odd.
About Christmas. Come round and well discuss it.
Grace arrived Saturday morning, already looking put out. She sat at the kitchen table and accepted the mug of tea Mary offered.
Well? Whats so urgent?
Mary laid her printout in front of her.
I totted up what I spend every Christmas for our family do. Look.
Grace scanned the page. Her face darkened.
But we never made you buy black caviar and a turkey.
You did! Last year Uncle Charles said chicken was dull, wanted turkey or goose. So I bought turkey. And the caviarhe asked for more!
Grace sipped her tea, then set the mug down, studying Mary.
So what do you want?
I cant carry the costs alone anymore. We need a new arrangement. Either we split everything evenly, or each family brings their share. I dont mind cooking or hosting, but I wont pay for us all this year.
Grace coughed, and Mary handed her a napkin.
Whatyoure serious? Are you tight for cash or something?
No. Im just done funding Christmas for ten people! Three years running!
Were family, Mary! Whats with all this accountancy? Youre not spending it on strangers!
It is accountancy! I do the books for work, remember? Ive done the numbers. Theyre not pretty.
Maybe youve got problemshas your husband lost his job? Do you have a loan?
Were fine. We both work. I just want it to be fair this time.
Grace stood up and paced the kitchen. You know, Mary, this feels petty. Counting pennies like this, when we’re family!
Its not pennies, its real moneythousands of pounds, Grace. Want to see the details line by line?
No, thanks. I get it. You think were sponging off you!
I never said that. I just want to share the costs, thats all.
Its the same thing! You’re accusing us of being stingy.
Im not accusing. Im offering a fair arrangement. We do this as equals, or this year Ill host just for my own family.
Grace snatched up her bag.
Youve changed, Mary. Used to be kinder.
I used to be dafter! Now Ive just had enough.
Then she spoke to Uncle Charles. Mary invited him over for tea; he came with Aunt Margaret. She gave them the same talk and showed the figures.
Uncle Charles made the most fuss, waving his arms, saying it was the end of family tradition, that the younger generation lacked heart, that such things never happened before.
Mary, love, what are you doing? My pensions tiny! I cant afford fancy foods.
My salarys nothing special either! But I managemaybe because I plan ahead?
Youre insulting us.
Why take offence? Im just telling the truthtruth I should have said three years ago!
Aunt Margaret was the last. Mary rang her the next day.
Mary, love, Id heard you were struggling for money?
No, Aunt Margaret. Im just refusing to bankroll Christmas for everyone alone!
But were family, dear. Should you really worry about money between us?
Yes, and you should! Its within the family that honesty matters most.
Are you upset about something?
NoI just realised Ive been paying for whats called a shared party for three years running. In practice, its not shared at all.
Perhaps we ought to help? Bring some salads or such?
Yes, exactly what Im asking. Let everyone do their bit. Then itll be right.
A week passed in silence from the family. Mary began making Christmas plans for just herself, her husband, and their son. She wrote a menu for three, made a shopping list, and bought a few things. Her husband cheered her on, telling her she shouldve done this long ago.
Will approved too. Mum, you rock! At last, you stood up to them!
But, a week before Christmas, on the twenty-fourth, Grace phoned in the evening. Her voice was tense, though not angry now.
Mary, you in?
Im here.
Can I come round?
Come over.
Thirty minutes later, Grace arrived and sat at the table. Mary poured tea and set down a plate of biscuits.
Right. Weve talked it over. We agree.
Agree to what?
To splitting the costs. Uncle Charlesll bring the drinks. Ill get the meat and fish starters. Aunt Margaret does dessert and fruit. You and Mum sort the main and the sides. Deal?
Deal. Thanks, Grace.
On the thirty-first, the family arrived from morning onwards. Uncle Charles brought several bags of drink, set them on the table and mopped his brow.
There you go. Hope thats enough.
Plenty, Uncle Charles. Thank you.
Grace came in with an impressive meat plattersausages, ham, pastrami. The fisha lovely trout, some pickled prawns.
I went all out! Bought the best I could.
Looks great. Thanks, Grace!
Aunt Margaret brought cake in a lovely box, fruit, and a bag of sweets.
Had the cake made at the bakery. They say its delicious. Fruits from the marketvery fresh.
Mary set out her roasta golden crisp chicken, potatoes with mushrooms, vegetable casserole. Together, they laid the table.
The mood was a bit stiff, at first. Grace pursed her lips, Uncle Charles muttered about young people nowadays, Aunt Margaret fussed with the tablecloth.
But as time passed and everyone sat down, the mood lightened. They ate, talked, caught up on each others news.
By midnight, the laughter had returned. They shared old jokes, made wishes for the new year.
Mary took a moment to look round the table at her family. Her husband was smiling, piping up with Charles about fishing. Her son wasnt wearing headphones. Even Grace had relaxed and was telling a story from work.
After midnight, Uncle Charles came into the kitchen as Mary washed up. He picked up a towel and helped dry plates.
You know, Mary, you were absolutely right!
What about, Uncle?
About splitting the costs. I never thought about it before. Never added it up. Did the shopping myself this timeits an eye-opener.
For once, Mary didnt feel the usual exhaustion and resentment that followed these gatherings, that urge to collapse in bed for three days. Instead, a lightness, almost joy.
She hadnt stayed silent. She had said what needed saying, tackled the subject head-on. The family had neither drifted away nor taken offencetheyd adapted.
After everyone had wandered off to bed, her husband hugged her in the kitchen.
Im proud of you, Mary. Truly proud.
Why?
Because you found the courage to say no. Saying no to family is the hardest thing. But you did more than thatyou offered a fair answer.
I was scared theyd sulk, not turn up, that Christmas would be ruined.
But it happened, didnt it? And nothings really changedjust that its honest now. Everyone pitched in.
Mary nodded. That was it exactly. Now, Christmas really was a shared celebration, not her private marathon of feeding relatives.
The tradition hasnt disappearedits only changed, become more just. That was my biggest win of the year.
Not to stay silent. Not to bottle things up. To say what you really think and find a solution that works for everyone. I managed thatso can you…”
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