My dear, you do realise Dads back is dreadful? David said, standing awkwardly by the kitchen door. He cant be on the sofa, hed never straighten up again. And Mum, well, she cant sleep unless its absolutely pitch black and theres silence. That blasted streetlight in the lounge shines right through. Come on, we can rough it for a week, cant we?
Julia froze, ladle poised mid-air as shed been pouring soup. The broth retreated back into the pot in a sad stream while her husbands words slowly made their way through the treacle of her brain. With deliberate calm, she turned to where David sat, eyes fixed on the gaudy kitchen tablecloth as though it hid the secrets of the universe.
Let me just get this straight, David, she said sweetly. Your parents are coming for all of Christmas and New Year, from the 23rd to the 2nd. We agreed on that. But you now want to give them our bedroom, the bed we spent two months choosing, with the mattress that cost more than my first car, and then were to camp in the lounge?
Er, yes. David finally looked at her, sporting a perfect blend of guilt and stubbornness. But, I mean, theyre my parents! Its only polite, right? Respect your elders and all that. I cant put Dad on that lumpy old sofa bedthe springs poke out.
Oh, I know you cant sleep on that, Julia replied, nodding. Which, you may recall, is why WE dont sleep on that. But small point, darling. My back? Lets not forget the minor detail of my slipped disc, the one from that little car incident. And unlike your parents, Ive got an annual report to sort the second they leave.
Come on, love, dont start. Ive got it all figured out, okay? David grimaced as if anticipating a tooth extraction. Were not even using the sofa bed. I borrowed an air mattress from Steveking-sized, dead posh. Well put it on the lounge floor. Itll be fun! Like camping when we were students!
Fun. On the floor. At thirty-eight. Julia gently laid the ladle down and felt mild irritation beginning to bubble. This isnt a festival, its my home. The bedrooms my only bit of sanctuary. And do you recall, your mother rises at six and thinks nothing of rearranging the entire kitchen by clattering every saucepan we own. If were sleeping in the lounge, which is, need I remind you, practically in the kitchen, well be up at dawn with her.
Ill ask her to keep quiet, David replied, without much hope. Jules, please, theyve already bought the train tickets. Theyre coming to see the kids, to see us. Are we really going to be that selfish? I promised Mum shed be comfortable. She was fussed about intruding, and I said, Dont worry, youll be sleeping like royalty.
Oh, I see! Youve promised her already. So, my viewmy spinenone of that matters? Julia replied with chilly pleasantness.
I was trying to do the right thing! Are you really going to make out Im the baddie here? David spluttered. Theyre old, they deserve comfort.
The discussion ended with the usual minor domestic earthquake. Julia retreated to the bathroom, perched on the edge of the bath and gazed at her reflection. She did love David, she loved their little flat (mortgaged within an inch of its life), but the in-laws visits always felt like running a marathon wearing someone elses shoes. Margaret was formidablealways first, always loud, never wrong. And Austin, Davids father, was quiet but, by some miracle, infinitely particular.
Julia knew this was one argument shed lost simply by virtue of not being able to bear living with Davids guilt. If she didnt give in, shed not only become Public Enemy Number One but also have to deal with Davids wounded puppy routine for the entire holiday.
Preparations for the Great Invasion resembled a military operation. Julia dutifully cleared out half the wardrobe, rehoused her clothes in the hallway, hid fancy skincare in the bathroom cupboardsMargaret had a habit of sampling anything not nailed down and then complaining vocally about the fragrance or consistency.
All fits, see? David announced cheerfully, pumping up the blue air mattress in the centre of the living room. The noise of that pump could have woken the next street. Its bouncytested it myself! Luxury!
Julia eyed the vast blue beast blocking the route to the balcony. The scent of cheap plastic filled the room.
Bouncy, yes. Our sheets will slip right off. And itll be freezing on the floor.
Ill pop a wool blanket underneathsorted! David beamed.
On the morning of the 23rd, at precisely 7am, the doorbell rang. The in-laws arrived, Margaret swanning in, fox fur hat perched like a Soviet commander surveying territory.
Well, at last! The train was a nightmare, the trolley service was hopelessI asked for tea four times! Margaret boomed, yanking off her coat. Julia, my dear, you look absolutely peaky! Not sleeping? Or coming down with something? Austin, careful with the suitcase, those are the homemade chutneys!
Austin hauled in their oversized luggage in silence, immediately scanning for slippers.
Come in, make yourselves at home, breakfasts ready, Julia said with the rattling cheeriness of someone who slept only four hours after finishing her work reports at midnight.
Margarets priorities were clearinspect the bedroom first.
Clean, at least, she pronounced, running a finger over the bed. Honestly, those curtains are rather dreary. And this mattressorthopaedic, is it? Sebastian, lie down and see if its all right for your back.
Austin lay down in his travel trousers, Julia gritted her teeth and said nothing.
Itll do, he muttered. These newfangled pillowsno feather ones?
No, Austin, only anatomical ones. Good for your neck, Julia replied, clipped.
Oh, I see. We always slept on goose down, never did us any harm, Margaret sniffed. Anyway, well manage. Where are you two sleeping, then? Living room?
Yes, Mum, on the air mattressmarvellous, David said, trying to sound like he meant it.
The day passed in a blur of chopping, peeling, and tolerant listening to Margaret regale the room with stories of ailments, neighbours, and politics. Every attempt Julia made to drink a cup of tea or sit still for five minutes was met with a missionJulia, that towel in the kitchen needs changing, Have you got brown bread? Austin doesnt touch white.
The night was an endurance test.
King of comfort, David declared, but the moment one partner moved, the other bounced like a Space Hopper. The sheet bunched into a knot after an hour, the cold seeped up from the floor, despite the heroic wool blanket. Julia lay, staring at the twinkling shadows of Christmas lights on the ceiling, feeling every twinge in her back, beginning to wonder if her lumbar region would ever forgive her.
At around three, the bedroom door opened; shuffling feet, Austin trotting to the loo. Half an hour on, Margaret tottered in for a glass of water. Since an archway joined kitchen and lounge, with no handy door, every light they switched on sliced through Julias closed eyelids.
By New Years Eve, Julia woke feeling as if shed taken part in a wrestling match with an angry geese. Her neck wouldnt turn, her lower back ached.
Morning! Margaret chirped, appearing in Julias silk dressing gownher Christmas gift three years back. We slept beautifully! Such peace! Mind you, that mattress is a touch firm, Austin said his sides numb. Honestly, you might want to consider something softer.
Julia began grinding coffee beans in silence, on the verge of tears.
Good heavens, you both look dreadful! Margaret observed, looking at Davids baggy eyes. Not comfy on the floor?
Were fine, Mum, just a bit of adjusting, David mumbled, massaging his arm.
Oh, young peoplecan sleep anywhere! Julia, dear, do you put pickled gherkin in your potato salad? I always use fresh, less harsh. And this mayonnaiseits terribly rich
Turning slowly to Margaret, Julia felt her grip on the spoon tighten.
Margaret, I make potato salad the way my family likes it. If you want fresh cucumber, you can chop it yourself. The cucumbers are in the fridge.
Silence. Margaret pursed her lips; David looked terrified.
No call to be so snappy! Margaret bleated. I was just making a suggestion! Austin, did you hear? Im not allowed to advise in my own sons house
Jules, come on David started.
Im having a shower, Julia interrupted, exiting rapidly.
Entering the bathroom, Julia found her favourite shampoo shoved to the top shelf, replaced by a cluster of Margarets bottles. Someone elses hair dangled from her flannel. The final blow: her precious anti-ageing face cream was open, a sizable crater dug in the middlesomeones generous fingers having slathered half of it away.
Outraged, Julia marched out, cream in hand.
Margaret, have you been using my face cream?
Oh, that thing? Margaret didnt bother glancing away from Emmerdale. Yes, Austins heels were cracked from the train, so I grabbed one of yours. Lovely thick stuff, went right in. Surely you dont mind?
The cream for feet? That cream cost £120! Julia gasped.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY POUNDS?! Margaret shrieked. Are you mad? £120 for face gloop? David, did you know your wife is blowing your money on beauty cream? And we still buy your socks!
Its my money, Julia said, frostily. I earned it. That was my face cream.
Oh, here we go again! Margaret flapped her hands. Honestly, some people and their priorities. Cream more important than your father-in-laws feet? Ridiculous.
David hovered, looking between his wife and mum.
Jules Mum didnt know well get you a new one, just calm down. Its a holiday.
That did it. Julias calm snapped, the last reserves of patience vanishing like a punctured air mattress. She looked at David, still incapable of picking a side, at the blue monstrosity in her lounge, the entirety of Margarets satisfaction with herself.
Youre right, David, she said, voice eerily pleasant. Its a holiday. Id hate to spoil it with tantrums or selfishness.
She went to find her coat.
Where are you off to? David asked, suspicious.
Just stepping out for a bit.
Julia inhaled the icy December air, feeling her sanity return. She pulled out her phone and, with the determination of a woman who has had quite enough, booked a suite at that fancy city spa hotel shed always envied. Price of a small car for two nights? Didnt care. King-size bed, hot tub, room service, and peace. She hit book fast enough to avoid common sense.
Back at the flat ten minutes later, Julia marched in, ignored the domestic drama emanating from the kitchen, and calmly began packing her essentials.
What are you doing? David panicked, hovering. Where are you going? Your mums?
No, David. Mums house is full. Im staying at a hotel.
A hotel? But what about New Year? What about us?
Im giving you all exactly what you wanted, Julia zipped the suitcase and met his eye. Youll celebrate with your parents, like you wanted. Theyve got the bedroom. You get your romantic camping holiday. I get to sleep in a real bed, with my own toiletries, and not have to lock my stuff away like a squirrel. Ill be back on the third when your parents go sightseeing with your aunt. Or the eighth, if Im enjoying myself. Havent decided yet.
Margaret appeared at the kitchen door.
What on EARTH is happening?
Mum, leave it, David barked, for the first time that week.
Im off for a rest, Margaret. Enjoy yourselves. The salads are in the fridge, goosell be ready at 4just hit the button. Happy New Year! Julia called, beaming, heading out.
As the door clicked shut, she heard the shocked voices ramp up rapidly, but they might as well have been coming from another planet.
At the hotel, everything was blissfully calm, smelled of pine and perfume, and the receptionist handed over her room key with a professional smile. Julia, seeing the fluffy bed, wanted to actually weep with happiness. Silence, no whiff of frying onions or cheap rubber. Off went her clothes, on went the bubbles, up came a glass of prosecco and a fruit platter.
Her phone exploded under a mountain of missed callsDavid, Margaret, even Austin sent a grumpy text: Julia, this isnt on. Come back. She switched them all off.
She rang in the New Year in a bathrobe, gazing at fireworks from her tenth floor window, glass in hand. It was the first New Year shed ever spent alone, and, embarrassingly, it was the best one in years. No one calling for help, no need to fetch or serve or tidy. Just herself.
On New Years Day, she slept till noon, her back had stopped aching, she went to the spa and got a massage, swam in the pool. In the evening she checked her phone.
Ten missed calls from David. And a long text:
Jules, Im so sorry. Total idiot. Air mattress deflated at 3am. I slept on cold floor. Mums having a go at me for letting you leave. Dads sulking. The goose burned because no one knows how to work the oven timer. I get it now. Please come home. Ill fix this. Ill put them in a hotel or sleep on the floor myself, just please come back.
Julia grinned. Sorry, love, lessons must be learned properly.
She returned on the third, as shed initially planned. Unlocking the flat, she was greeted by utter chaos: boots strewn about, dirty dishes piled high. David, dishevelled and unshaven, sat on the collapsed blue air mattress in the lounge, looking like hed lost a bar fight with a duvet.
Youre home! he yelped, as if seeing a rescue helicopter.
Margaret emerged, looking fierce but slightly cowed.
Had a nice break? she started, but wilted at Julias steady look.
Julia looked refreshed, glowing, infinitely calm. With brisk economy, she set her suitcase down.
Enjoy the holidays? she inquired.
Ghastly! Margaret burst out. Davids put his back out. No decent foodhad to order pizza. My stomachs been bad. How could you just leave?
I left you comfort, Julia said, unfazed. Wasnt that the main thing? You got the bedroom. I got peace.
Oh, give over, Mum, David shut her down. He went to Julia, took her hands. Weve agreed. Dads fine in the loungethe sofas sorted, I fixed it with plywood and a hammer. Youre going back in your bedroom.
Julia raised an eyebrowDavid, fixing the sofa? Miracles do happen.
What about Dads dodgy back? she asked.
Apparently, Dads back is miraculously healed if he gets a good sleep, Austin grumbled, sticking his head round the corner. In fact, were off to see the other in-laws soon. Leave you to it.
Margaret opened her mouth, closed it, took in her sons stony face, Julias poise, and rolled her eyes. Oh, do as you like then. Make a rod for your own back…
That evening found Margaret and Austin sleeping in the lounge (on what transpired to be a passably comfortable sofa, when not impeded by exposed springs). Julia and David lay in their own bed, the world returned to rights.
You did fork out for that hotel, didnt you? David whispered, snuggling up.
Every penny. And Id do it again.
Ill pay you back. Seriously.
No need. That was your lesson fee.
David was silent, face buried in her shoulder.
I promise, never again. Youll never have to sleep on the floor. And Ill get you another of those magic creams. £120, you said?
Ill hold you to it, Julia replied, smiling in the dark. And as for that air mattressbin it. Or gift it to someone you dislike.
Already slashed it, David confessed. Accidentally, with the scissors. Was trying to deflate it on New Years Day.
Julia chuckled softly. The strain of the last week seeped away. She was backat home, in her bed, with her boundaries restored. And as it turned out, dignity is worth a heck of a lot more than any fancy face cream.
If you found this story painfully familiar, perhaps give it a thumbs up or subscribe. If youd have handled it differently, do share your wisdom in the commentsmy spine could use the advice!
