Friday, April 22nd
Sometimes, I look around at my flatnew, bright, every touch and corner my ownand I still cant believe its real. A place to call truly mine after twenty years of saving, two years of denying myself every luxury, and six months of learning the difference between eggshell and ivory paint, all so I could do the renovations myself. But today, that joy was tested in the harshest way.
This all started on Tuesday, right as I was running myself a bath, enjoying those last minutes of solitude before dinner. My phone rang with that thunderous ringtone Id never managed to changea noise perfectly suited to Auntie Pauline.
Emma, are you even there? Weve already got the tickets in hand; the trains arriving at seven on Saturday morning. Dont you dare oversleep! You know how much luggage weve got, plus Abby and the children. Taxis cost a fortune these days, but youve got that big carplenty of room for all of us.
I froze in the hallway, towel around my shoulders, phone pressed between shoulder and ear. My keys jangled on the new side table. One month. Id lived here only a month. And now Auntie Pauline was bulldozing straight into my plans for my first silent, solitary weekendthe one Id dreamed of through countless packed lunches and refusals of takeaway coffee.
Tickets? I managed finally, stepping back into the kitchen where my herbal tea sat cooling. Train? What are you talking about? No ones invited, Pauline.
A loaded silence, so thick I could feel it through the call. Then, that old, rallying breath. I braced myself.
Not invited? Emma, have you taken leave of your senses? Your Uncle Malcolm is seventy this weekend, big occasion! Familys converging from everywhere. And your mum says youve finally bought yourself a three-bed and got the place all done up proper. Well, heres your momentwell all come: me, Uncle Ron, Abby and her bloke, and the twins. Just the six of us. Couldnt be any bother. Toss some mattresses down, were not fussy!
I took a seat at the bar stool, rubbing my temple. Six of them. Pauline snores and takes over the kitchen, Ron likes to smoke on balconies (mines open-plan with my snug little armchair), Abby lets her two five-year-old hurricanes run wildcolouring on the walls, jumping on everythingand her husband Adam, who can clear out a fridge in a day.
Pauline, I tried to project calm strength, staring at my pristine ivory cabinets, I cant have you. The renovations only just finished, and half the furnitures missing. There arent enough beds. I still need to workIve got to finish a report this weekend.
Oh, dont make up stories! she barked. Its the weekend, Emma. And well just bring our own duvets, honestly. On the floors fine for us. What, you wont even let your family over after everything weve done for you? Remember the doll I bought you for your fifth birthday? Cost me a packet, that did!
That doll comes up every time Pauline wants somethinga second-hand thing missing an arm, but legend has elevated it to a family heirloom.
I do appreciate you, Pauline. But no. The flats new, Im not ready for company, not like this. Besides, Uncle Malcolm lives other side of the city! Why not book a B&B nearby? I can send you suggestions.
Listen to you! she shrieked. Suggestions, is it? Bit high-and-mighty now youve got fancy digs? Forgotten your own family? If it werent for us, youd…
Pauline, I cut in, cold and steady, I simply cant take you in. My decision stands. Please dont buy tickets expecting to stay here. I wont open the door.
With that, I hung up, breath shaking. I knew what would come next: the heavy artillery.
Ten minutes later, Mum rang.
Emma, have you lost your mind? No greeting, only indignation. Paulines a wreck, her blood pressures through the roof. Claims you told them to take a hike!
I didnt! I just said I cant bunker down six of them here. Its a new flat, white walls, a parquet I cant afford to replace. You know what Abbys kids are like? Last time at Nans, they painted the cat green and pulled over the television while Abby giggled that it was ‘just kids being curious.’ I dont want my flat being their playground.
But theyre family! Mum pressed the issue as if I didnt know the rules. Cant you stand a couple days? Just put the vases away, cover the sofasat least keep the peace! Pauline will tell everyone how hard youve gotten. Ill be mortified!
Mum, why should I destroy my sanctuary for Pauline to save a few hundred pounds on a B&B? She can afford gifts and train tickets, clearly.
Youre selfish, Mum sighed, heavy and disappointed. Just like your father, always putting himself first. Well, dont come crying later, when youre old and alone in that silent flatyou wont have anyone to fetch you a glass of water.
Id rather pour my own water than scrub the walls after theyve gone through with their family love, I grumbled, hanging up again.
The rest of the week was an agony of anticipation. Radio silence from the family frontno calls from Pauline, no angry texts from Abby. For a while, I hoped reason had prevailed.
Saturday dawned perfectly. I woke late, brewed fresh coffee, slid into my favourite silk robe and stepped into the lounge. Sunlight sparkled on the glass vase. Calm, clean, undisturbed. A whole day to read, maybe order sushi, maybe an evening bathmy idea of bliss.
At nine sharp, the entry phone rang, shrill and insistent.
My hand jerked, nearly spilling the coffee onto my pale rug. I knew before I even lookedthere they were on the security screen. Huge tartan bags, Paulines flushed face, Rons cap at a jaunty angle, Abbys twins mashing every button.
Emma! Surprise! Pauline bellowed at the camera. We came from the station, let us in for some tea!
I pressed my back against the wall and exhaled. Theyd come anyway. Theyd banked on my being too polite to send them away in person. The classic tactic: appear en masse, and guilt me into surrender.
I counted to five and answered.
I did say not to come.
Oh dont be daft! Dont sulk! Were family. Let us in, Abbys kids are desperate for the loodont be monstrous.
Theres a free café next door with toilets. I wont be opening the door.
What? Pauline squashed her nose against the camera lens. You mean it? Weve come all this way! Your mother knows were here! Open up or Ill kick up a right fuss!
Im not changing my mind. I texted you hotel addresses. Goodbye.
I turned off the entry phone.
But as luck would have it, someone leaving the building let them in. Soon, the external bell was ringing, then loud banging set the door rattling.
Emma, let us in! Wheres your conscience? Abbys voice screeched. The kids are exhausted! Have you lost the plot?
Open up, you ungrateful girl! Ron thundered. We brought you gifts, bacon, pickles!
Standing in my hallway, arms folded tightly, I was mortifiedwhat would the neighbours think? For a brief moment, I was tempted to unlock everything, just to stop the racket. But then I looked at the clean floors and pictured muddy shoes, scraped walls, smells that would linger for weeksand how Id feel afterwards. Violated, in my own home.
No.
Loudly and clearly, I called through the door, Ill call the police. If you dont leave now, Ill report you for harassment and trying to force entry.
Silence, for a beat.
Youll kill your mother with this stress! Pauline wailed. Calling the police, at your own aunt! Shame on you!
Im counting to three. One
Mum, she means it. Lets just go, Abby muttered, all the bluster gone. Shell actually call the police and well look ridiculous.
Two
Oh, stuff her! Ron roared, kicking the door. Choke on your precious flat then! May you rot here alone!
Three.
Scuffling, hurried footsteps, the drag of bags, a slap and a child bawling.
Go on, then. Were leaving, never setting foot here again! Ill let everyone know what sort you are, you heartless cow! spat Pauline.
Their footsteps faded, finally, as the stairwell swallowed them up. Only then did I notice I was trembling.
I slid down the wall, knees hugged to my chest, warm tiles cool beneath me. I weptout of sheer stress, not guilt. Id done it. Id defended my boundaries.
Eventually, my phone started ringing off the hook. Mum, Pauline, random relatives. I turned it off.
From the kitchen window, I watched their figures in the parking lot, shrill and gesturing. They piled into a taxi, muttering and glaring up at my windows.
I was reminded, bitterly, of years ago. When Id been a uni student new to town, desperate for a bed while on placement. Id called Pauline too, begging for a spot for a week. Sorry love, were having our bathroom done, dust everywhere, Abbys seeing someone so its awkward, maybe ask around, shed said. Id slept three nights in the train station waiting room with my rucksack for a pillow before finding a box room with an old lady in exchange for chores.
Funny, how family ties only seem to tighten when youve got something worth taking.
Not this time, I muttered, flicking on the radio, brewing a fresh mug of coffee, and curling up in my armchair. The day was ruined, yesbut my flat remained untouched.
Later, when I finally switched the phone back on, the deluge started.
Youre no daughter/sister/niece of ours! raged Pauline.
How could you do this to your own mother? Shes beside herself! was Abbys contribution.
Im ashamed I raised you, bit Mum. That one stung.
I wanted to defend myself. To spell out how Pauline had slammed the door on me that year in her city. How I just wanted peace. But it was pointless. In their minds, I was only a commodity refusing to deliver.
I only texted Mum, I love you, but Im an adult and I make my own rules in my own home. If youd ever like to visit, just you, with notice, Id be glad to have you. But no more family blackmail. Remember when Pauline left me stranded years ago? Im simply returning the favour.
No reply.
The days passed. Life in the flat settled. I met neighbours in the liftthey gave me funny looks, but said nothing. One, a woman with a spaniel, even winked, Nice place. Sturdy doors, eh?
A month later, Mum rang for a chatdry, civil, no mention of Pauline. I didnt bring it up.
The family stopped inviting me to birthday teas, booted me out of the group chat. To my surprise, life got easier. No more buying silly presents for distant nephews, no lectures about finding a man or interrogations about my salary.
Six months on, at Christmas, the bell rang. Through the spyholeAbby. Alone, no kids or Adam, tear-stained, looking more fragile than ever.
I opened the door.
Hi, she croaked. Can I come in?
She hovered on the doorstep, I nodded.
Take your shoes off, please, I murmured.
She tiptoed into the kitchen, flopped onto the edge of a chair.
Ive left Adam, she blurted, and the tears flowed. He started drinking and, well I sent the kids to Mum for now but I cant stay there, she blames me for everything. Pauline just told me to stay put for my childrens sake. I cant. Theres nowhere to go.
She looked up, helpless.
Emma, could I stay? Isnt longjust till I find a place. Ill sleep on the floor, honestly. I wont be any trouble.
I looked at this Abby, so different from the furious figure in the security camera months ago. This wasnt entitlement, just desperate need.
You dont have to sleep on the floor, I sighed. The sofa in the lounge pulls out.
She stared, incredulous.
You mean it? Even after everything?
I do. But on my terms. No kids, the flat isnt set up. One week max while you find a roomhappy to help you with a letting agent. And no gossiping about me to Pauline. If I catch wind of it, you leave.
Thank you, she whispered. Thank you, Emma. We were just envious, you know. You made it out, got your own place, are living on your terms. Were stuck
Jealousy poisons, I said. Drink your tea, Ill sort the bedding.
She stayed five days. Quiet, almost invisible, washing up after herself, treading softly. By Friday, shed found a room of her own and left.
That changed things. Once shed seen another way of livingpeaceful, tidy, with respect for boundariesAbby started to shift. She filed for divorce, got a job, started stepping away from Mum and Paulines drama. We began to go to the cinema, chat about books.
As for Pauline, she never forgave me. But as I sat with a glass of wine on my sofa, gazing at the citys twinkling lights, I realised that the old saying was true: ‘An Englishmans home is his castle.’ And sometimes, to keep it a sanctuary, its okay to raise the drawbridge. Even if those outside have the same surname.
