The sister-in-law came expecting a feast but this time she found an empty table
Are they coming over again this Saturday? But we agreed wed spend this weekend together, maybe get out of town Im absolutely worn out with all these quarterly reports!
Emilys voice bounced around the tiny, tiled kitchen, sharp and fraught. She stood at the sink, furiously rinsing foam off a plate, glancing stiffly over her shoulder at her husband. David sat at the table, eyes fixed guiltily on his lukewarm tea as his fingers fiddled with the edge of the linen tablecloth.
Em, what could I say? he sighed, trying for a conciliatory tone. Jessica rang. She said she, Tom, and Oliver really miss us. It’s been ages. Our nephew wants to see his uncle. I couldn’t turn my own sister away, could I? Especially as they’ve set their hearts on it.
Hasnt been long at all since we saw them, Emily snapped, turning off the tap so hard the pipe groaned. She dried her hands, facing her husband with arms folded. Dave, they were here two weeks ago! And over for the whole of May Day. And every visit is exactly the same. They show up empty-handed, plonk themselves at the table, polish off everything Ive slaved over all weekend, leave a hurricane of dirty dishes, and then vanish.
David winced. He couldn’t stand these conversations. In his family, the rule was: family first, always open the door, no matter how busy or tired you were.
You dont need to begrudge family a few bites, he muttered, pushing away his cup. Its my sister. Bloods blood. Tom lost out on his bonus at work and Jess says theyre strapped right now. Let them come, well catch up. Ill go to the shop, buy whatevers needed. I promise Ill even do the washing up myself.
Emily gave a bitter, knowing laugh. Shed heard these promises on repeat for years. David did pop down to the shop, but always came back with a loaf, some water, and the cheapest cold cuts, thinking that would magically fill a proper spread. The true spending, the hours at the hob those always fell to Emily. And when it came to washing up, David was usually dozing on the sofa, while she wrestled with greasy pans and crusted plates, alone.
Theyd been married six years. The flat was Emilys inherited from her grandmother legally hers alone. Davids job paid alright, but most of his money vanished into car finance and helping his retired parents. Emily, a senior pharmacist at a large chemists chain, drew a decent wage, and it was her salary that kept dinner on the table, paid the energy bills, bought new appliances and holidays.
Emily was generous, not stingy. In their early years, shed loved hosting Davids family, laid out buffets, baked pies, roasted elaborate joints. But over time, shed noticed Jessicas visits had slid into an entitled, brazen ritual. Jessica, a booming, self-assured woman who truly believed in her own exceptionality, treated her brothers home as a free restaurant.
As usual, Emilys Friday started with the familiar supermarket dash. She heaved a packed trolley while ticking things off her list: proper beef for the cutlets (Jess sneered at chicken, poor peoples food), smoked salmon for sandwiches, a variety of cheeses, fresh veg that cost as much as gold these days, and Olivers favourite cake.
At the till, Emily winced at the bill. Nearly £80. Shed meant to set that cash aside for new winter boots her old ones were on their last legs but those would have to wait for next payday.
She trudged home, arms aching, pulling those heavy bags to the third floor, no lift, as David was yet again caught up at the garage. At the front door, she kicked off her shoes and was about to head for the kitchen, but as she passed the half-open bedroom door, something made her pause.
David was on speakerphone. Jessicas brash voice was unmistakable.
Im telling you, book now before the early bird deals go! Weve dreamt of this hotel in Majorca for ages. Ultra all-inclusive, right on the beach. Toms advance came through yesterday, so we paid up in full. It was a stretch nearly £2,500! You only live once!
Wow, nice one, David replied admiringly. Thought Toms pay got cut? Arent you two saving?
Jessica let out a hearty, well-fed laugh.
Oh Dave, use your head! Of course were saving for months now we just buy basics. No restaurants, nothing fancy. Ive been giving Tom pasta and beans for dinner. But you know well be at yours for the weekend! Ems always got the table groaning, lays on a feast! Always smoked salmon, roast beef, fancy salads. We fill up for the weekend, enough to do us till Wednesday on yoghurt alone. Absolute lifesaver for the budget. Just remind her to get salmon Oliver loves it. Right, see you at one! Well be starving.
The line went dead. David murmured some half-hearted comeback and tossed his phone down.
Emily stood in the hallway, her numbed fingers losing feeling from the bags. But the pain was nothing compared to what was bubbling inside: a cold wave of indignation, mixed with searing, suffocating anger.
So, apparently, they were broke eating pasta, were they? £2,500 for a Spanish beach break. And here she was, scrimping on boots just to splash out on delicacies to keep a pair of freeloaders eating well at her own expense.
Emily silently reversed into the kitchen, set down the bags, flicked on the light, and surveyed the food shed spent her hard-earned money on. Something inside her snapped at last all her patience, tact, and eager-to-please-wife routines dissolved, replaced by a glacial, steely resolve.
She didnt throw a scene. She didnt storm into the bedroom to scream at her husband. No, she worked quietly and methodically.
First, she unpacked the bags. The fresh beef meant for cutlets went straight to the back of the freezer. The premium cheese, smoked salmon, artisan deli meats all sealed away in an opaque box and hidden on the bottom fridge shelf behind the saucepans. She cut the cake in half: half stored away with the posh treats, half left on a plate under a cover.
Nothing remained on the kitchen table. Pristine surface. Empty sink.
The rest of the evening passed as usual. Emily cooked a plain supper some buckwheat and last nights leftover burgers. David, out of the bedroom, ate absentmindedly, never noticing the lack of extravagance, then zoned into the television. He didn’t mention his family coming, assuming everything was as always.
Saturday morning dawned calm. Emily woke late, had a lazy stretch, and enjoyed an unhurried shower. David was still asleep. Typically, by now shed be racing around the kitchen in her apron, dressing salads, whipping up sauces, juggling oven trays. Today, she made herself a strong, fragrant coffee; sliced some of the stashed cheese, breakfasted in peace, and settled in her armchair with a novel.
By midday, David dragged himself out of bed. In the kitchen, the lack of familiar roasting aromas had him scratching his head.
Em, arent you cooking? Jess and the family will be here in an hour! Whats happened, is the oven broken? he asked, peering into the empty saucepan on the hob.
No, the ovens fine, Emily replied, eyes glued to her book. Im just having a day off. Its my weekend too.
David froze, completely bewildered.
What do you mean, a day off? What are we feeding the guests on?
Not sure, Dave. Theres still buckwheat and some leftover burgers in the fridge. If its not enough, theres a shop up the road your wallets on the shelf.
David gave a nervous laugh, assuming she was joking.
Dont sulk! I promised Ill do the washing up this time. Where are the bags you brought yesterday? I saw you come in loaded.
Groceries are for the week ahead, Dave. Not so people can pinch-pennies before jetting off to Majorca, Emily finally looked him in the eye voice calm, icy, and final. I overheard your call with your sister last night. Every word. So heres what: this house is not a charity canteen anymore.
Davids face flamed instantly. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but just then the doorbell trilled loudly. Punctual as ever, the guests arrived for lunchtime.
David hurried out. Suddenly the flat was filled with loud voices, stomping, and the synthetic tang of cheap perfume.
At last! The traffic was terrible! Jessica boomed. Dave, hello! Where are our slippers? Oliver, dont drag your coat along the wall!
Jessica swept into the kitchen, decked in a gaudy tracksuit, her hair barely tied back. Tom, gawky and forever grumbling, followed suit, along with a moody, phone-glued Oliver.
Jessica took in the kitchen with a landladys eye, sniffed the air, and frowned.
Em, hi. Er, is there a reason it doesnt smell of food in here? Youve not sat down yet? Only, were absolutely starving. Skipped breakfast to make space for your famous cutlets!
Emily closed her book, set it down, and turned to greet the brothers family.
Hello, Jess. Afternoon Tom. No, we havent sat and theres nothing to sit down for. No lunch has been made.
Jessica blinked her hefty lashes in disbelief. Her gaze flicked to David, shifting foot to foot in the doorway like a schoolboy caught out.
What do you mean, no lunch? Dave, you said you were expecting us. Were guests! Its gone one, my boy needs his schedule he cant skip meals! Jessicas voice was climbing towards hysteria.
Well, if Olivers on a strict routine, perhaps you should have fed him before you left, or stopped at a café, Emily countered quietly, with a hint of a smile.
Tom grunted, flopping onto a stool with arms folded across his bulk.
I dont get it. Are you joking? We didnt slog through the city to look at clean worktops. Come off it, Em, lets have the food. Im famished.
His choice of words grated, but Emily remained completely steady. She leaned against the table and regarded Jessica carefully.
No food, Tom. No cutlets, no salmon. Last night I happened to overhear a fascinating phone call. Seems my house is a handy way to save money towards your Spanish beach holidays.
Jessica gasped. Her face ran from pale to beetroot in seconds. She fixed David with a deadly stare.
Dave! Did you have me on loudspeaker while she was there?! she shrieked, outing herself completely.
David ducked.
JessI didnt know she was in the hallI thought she was in the kitchen
Oh, you thought! Jessica rounded on Emily, deciding attack was the best defence. So what if were going to Majorca?! Yes, we scrimp, and yes you put on a spread! Were family! You should feed us! You dont have kids, your moneys going spare and weve got bigger expenses! My brother has a duty to help his own sister! Wouldnt bankrupt you to let my child eat some meat! Tightwads!
Emily straightened. Her eyes narrowed, her patience at last burned away.
First of all, Jess, nobody is obliged to do anything in this house. You didnt pay for this flat, nor did your brother. Its mine. Second, my bank balance isnt your holiday fund. Over the past three months, your visits have cost me nearly £500. My money, my work. Id rather enjoy it myself than spend on people who quietly mock how easily theyre sponging off me.
Youre counting what my son eats? Shame on you! Jessica tried to conjure up a tear, clutching her chest. Tom, are you hearing this? The humiliation!
Tom rose heavily, fists clenching.
Listen, lady, he growled, Youd better watch it. Were here for Dave, not you.
Calm down, Tom! For the first time, David spoke up, stepping forward to shield Emily. Dont you dare talk to Emily like that in her own home.
In her home? Jessica put on a mocking laugh. What are you then, some sort of lodger? No say at all? Man up! Tell your wife to get cooking and feed your family!
David looked at his sister and, for the first time, really saw her as she was: entitled, bossy, treating neither him nor Emily nor their marriage with any respect. Suddenly, shame swept through him shame for letting this happen, for fobbing Emily off with cheap cold cuts while she carried the load, for being so spineless.
My wife owes you nothing, Jess, David said, his voice steady and sharp, steel-like. Emily looked at him, surprised. Shes not going to serve you again. Shes right. You only turn up to scrounge. Not once did you ask how we are, or offer to help youve never even brought a cake for tea.
Oh, thats how it is! Jessica wailed, clutching her head. Youve ditched your own flesh and blood for thismiserly pharmacist! Ill never set foot in this house again! Mum will hear all about her snivelling, hen-pecked son!
Tell who you like, Emily replied, cool as ice. Doors there. And theres a supermarket on the corner. Get Oliver some sausages. Save yourselves the trouble.
Jessica choked with indignation. She grabbed Oliver by the sleeve, almost knocking his phone away.
Come on, Tom, were not wanted here! Let them choke on their fortune! she thundered as they barrelled down the hall.
They slammed the door so hard the front keys tinkled in their bowl.
A rare, deep hush settled on the flat. Emily exhaled slowly, feeling the tension roll off her shoulders. Her hands shook a little but for the first time in years she felt light, free as if shed finally kicked off a pair of painfully tight shoes.
David stood, head bowed. Then he stepped over and gently touched her arm.
Em Im sorry. Ive been such an idiot. I honestly never saw it from your side. I thought it was all just family get-togethersits only just hit me how they used us. I mean, used you.
Emily looked at him and saw real regret. She knew cutting ties with his sister hurt, but hed made the right choice hed chosen their family.
I just want respect, Dave. If your family want to visit again, they can with an apology, good manners, and a cake. Until then, its off the table.
Its settled, Dave said earnestly, shifting awkwardly then smiling shyly. You know since were not going out and the coasts finally clearfancy some pizza? Maybe sushi? My treat anything you like. No washing up.
Emilys laugh was genuine, ringing and bright for the first time in ages.
Pizza it is. And lets finally watch that film weve been putting off.
While David fiddled with the delivery app, beaming at his phone, Emily opened the fridge, fetched out the hidden half of a proper chocolate cake, cut herself a generous slice, poured a fresh coffee, and sat down at their immaculate table. The weekend stretched ahead, quiet and theirs alone.
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