My relatives were fuming because I wouldnt let them crash in my little studio flat.
James, youre joking, arent you? Tell me this is some colossal prank and youll be laughing in a minute. Come on.
Megan froze, ladle in hand, forgetting shed been about to pour the soup. Steam rose from the pot, coating the glossy front of the kitchen units, but she didnt even notice. All her attention was glued to me, sitting at the tiny kitchen table, fiddling apologetically with a fork, trying not to meet my eyes.
Megan, what could I have done? I muttered, pressing my head against my shoulders. Its Aunt Vera. She called, said, Weve booked tickets, heading to London to get the grandchild to the doctors and see the city while were at it. I couldnt tell my own aunt, Dont come. It would be unkind.
Unkind? Megan slowly set the ladle back into the pot. The clang of metal rang out like a bell in the quiet. And being kind means shoving three people into our flat? James, we have thirtythree square metres! Thirtythree! Including the balcony, where the paint cans and the old ski poles live!
She gestured around our home. It was a classic studio flat shed bought before we married, using every penny shed saved over five lean years. She loved it fiercely. Every inch was measured: a pullout sofa bed, floortoceiling wardrobes, a snug but cosy kitchen that merged with the lounge. It was perfect for one, at most two, if the two lived in harmony and didnt scatter socks everywhere.
Theyre only staying three nights, I tried to defend them. Well manage. It wont hurt.
Who they? Lets get a list, Megan crossed her arms, feeling her left eye twitch.
Well Aunt Vera, Uncle Paul and Lucy with the little one.
Megans face went ashen. She flopped onto the chair opposite me, the robe slipping off her shoulders.
Four people? James, are you out of your mind? Aunt Vera is, to put it mildly, a sizeable lady. Uncle Paul smokes like a chimney and snores so hard the walls shake. Lucy is their thirtyyearold daughter, and the little one is already five, and, by your own description, gets into everything. And you expect us to house this lot here? Where will we sleep? On the chandelier?
Well, why are you I bristled. We could put an air mattress in the kitchen. Give them the spare room. Theyre guests, just passing through. The child needs a routine.
In the kitchen? Megan laughed hysterically, looking at the fivesquaremetre space that barely fits a table and two chairs. Under the table? Or should I stuff my feet in the oven?
Megan, stop. Theyre family. My mother will be upset if we turn them away. Theyll come with all the goodies: ham, cucumbers
I dont eat ham, James! And the cucumbers we have are on sale at the supermarket! Megan jumped up, pacing from the window to the door, three steps each way. No. That wont happen. I wont let them stay overnight. A cup of tea, please. Dinner, fine, Ill cope. But not a nights stay. Theyll have to find a hotel.
They cant afford a hotel, Megan! Theyre simple folk from the countryside. Our prices would be astronomical to them. Put yourself in their shoes!
Who would? I work all week. Tomorrow is my only day off, and I intended to sleep in the bath. Instead you suggest I sleep on the kitchen floor listening to Uncle Pauls snore? No, James. Call them and say the pipe burst, weve got the plague, weve been evictedanything. But they must not think they can camp here.
I sighed heavily, pushed the plate aside, and looked at my wife with the eyes of a dog thats been beaten down.
I cant. Theyre already on the train. Theyll be at the station tomorrow morning. I promised to meet them.
Megan stared at me, knowing I wouldnt call. It was easier for me to endure the discomfort, to make her suffer, than to give a firm no to my overbearing kin. That was my lifelong flaw trying to be good to everyone except my own family.
Fine, Megan said icily. Youll meet them. But I wont be moving a single inch to create sleeping spots. And if they think Ill be slaving over the stove for three days, theyre sorely mistaken.
The night was restless. Megan tossed and turned, picturing how our pristine, white flat would look after an invasion of relatives. In the morning James left for the station, and Megan stayed behind, ready for battle. She deliberately didnt whip up the usual big Christmas fare that families bring for guests. Instead she brewed coffee, toasted some bread, and settled down with a book, making it clear the day was running on her terms.
The intercom rang like a siren. Megan walked slowly to the handset.
Megan, its us! Open up! Jamess voice rang out as if hed brought home a lottery win.
A minute later, the hallway filled with noise. Loud voices, laughter, the clatter of something heavy. The door swung wide and a crowd poured in.
First in was Aunt Vera a massive woman in a flamboyant dress, wheeling a suitcase that left a dirty trail on the polished floor.
Oh, dear Megan! Hello, love! she shouted, arms outstretched for a hug. She smelled of train perfume, boiled sausage, and cheap Lily of the Valley spray. You look halfwithered, dear! This city must have drained you! No matter, were here to feed you!
Behind her shuffled Uncle Paul, carrying a huge sack from which something porky protruded.
Hello, landlady! Where do you hide a mammoth? he croaked, shaking ash from his cigarette, the tobacco scent seeping into his clothes.
Lucy followed, a tiredlooking woman with pursed lips, clutching a fiveyearold boy. The boy instantly broke free, screaming, Wheres the cartoons? and bolted into the bedroom, shoes still on.
Stop! Megan shouted, but it was too late. Muddy trainers were already trampling the plush carpet by the sofa.
Oh, come now, its just a child, Lucy waved a hand, hurling her shoes into the hallway, nearly making Megan stumble. No slippers? Were all sweaty from the road.
The entry hall, meant for two, instantly turned into a rushhour underground station. Bags, backpacks, people a chaotic jumble. Megan felt a wave of claustrophobia shed never known before.
Please, come in, she forced out, trying to keep some courtesy. Just leave your shoes on the rack and the coats in the wardrobe.
Forget the niceties! Aunt Vera stormed into the kitchen. Oh, look how tiny the kitchen is! How will you cook, love? Two hosts cant even turn around!
She plonked her suitcase onto the dining table.
Aunt Vera, could you move the suitcase off the table? Megan said firmly. Its a place for meals.
Its clean, I only set it there on the train, there was a newspaper underneath! the aunt huffed, moving the bag to a chair. Now, lets eat! The men are starving; we only had tea on the train. James said youd be waiting.
Megan glanced at James, who stood in the doorway, trying to make himself invisible.
Ive put the kettle on, Megan said. There are sandwiches. I didnt make a full dinner; I thought youd want to freshen up, maybe a shower, then decide where to eat.
A pause hung. Aunt Vera planted her hands on her hips.
What do you mean where to eat? Are we not at home? Weve come to see family! You welcome guests with an empty table? In my village that would be unheard of! If a guest steps over the threshold, the best of everything is laid out!
In London we usually give a headsup before a visit, Megan snapped. And ask whether its convenient for the hosts.
But we told you! We told James! Uncle Paul interjected, already rummaging through the fridge. Ah, a cold brew! Yours, James?
Mine, James muttered.
Good, lets have a drink! Uncle Paul ripped open a can with a loud pop and gulped.
Megan closed her eyes and counted to ten. It didnt help.
Alright, dear guests, she announced loudly. Lets be clear. The flat is tiny. Sleeping spaces: one sofa. Its the two of us, youre four. Theres simply nowhere for you to stay overnight.
How can there be nowhere? Lucy asked, peering into the room. The sofa is big; mother, baby, and I can lie on it. Dad could use the foldout chair on the balcony, I saw it. You young folk could sleep on the floor, maybe an air mattress. Or ask the neighbours; surely someone knows a spare room?
The audacity of the suggestion left Megan speechless for a moment. They werent just asking to share the space; they were planning to push us onto the floor of our own home, bought with our hardearned money, or to beg neighbours for a bed.
No, Megan said firmly. That wont happen. The sofa is our bed. Im not giving it up.
Look at her! Aunt Vera wailed. Youre such a prude! Our kin travelled three hundred miles and you wont even spare a sofa! Weve sent letters, parcels, even a uniform to your boy! And now you wont let us in?
Aunt Vera, nobodys forcing you, James tried to intervene. Megans just tired, and space really is limited
Shut up, you henpecked man! the aunt shrieked. Your wife doesnt respect us, and youre just a lapdog! We came to you, not to her! The flat belongs to us all, so we have a right!
The flat belongs to me, Megan said quietly but clearly. I bought it before we married, paid the mortgage myself. James lives here because hes my husband. That doesnt give anyone the right to turn it into a hostel.
Silence fell. Uncle Paul stopped drinking his beer. Lucy halted her foottapping. Aunt Vera flushed.
So thats it, then? she hissed. Youll crush a slice of bread, measure your square metres, and be proud of it? You think youre some sort of London aristocrat?
Its about basic respect and personal space, Megan snapped. You showed up with four people in a oneroom flat, never asking if it was alright for us. You just assumed.
What should we have done? Aunt Vera barked again. We came as family! We thought wed sit, chat, have a cuppa. And you
A crash echoed from the hallway. The fiveyearold Charlie, trying to explore the shelves, knocked over a pricey vase and sent a stack of books crashing. He stood amid the shards, wailing.
Oh my God, Charlie! Youre not cut, are you? Lucy lunged for him, cradling the boy. Why would you put a vase where a child runs? He could have been killed!
Megan stared at the broken pieces of her beloved Italian vase the final straw.
Thats it, she said, voice shaking with fury. The show is over. Pack up.
What? Aunt Vera straightened, towering over us. Youre kicking us out? With the child?
Not onto the street. Its daylight, its warm. You have time to find a hotel or a hostel. I even have a list of cheap places I looked up yesterday.
Megan pulled a folded sheet of paper from her jeans pocket and handed it to James.
James, heres the list. Theres a decent hostel two blocks away, family rooms, and the Rising Sun inn not far off. Prices are reasonable.
Have you lost your mind? Lucy hissed. Weve been saving for the doctors appointments, not for a night in a hostel! You want to take the childs mouth away from him?
I want my home quiet and tidy, Megan cut in. You came to London for treatment, you should have budgeted for accommodation. Or you expected me to foot the bill?
James! Aunt Vera roared. Are you a man or a rag? Tell your wife to shut up! Were not leaving! Well stay!
James stood between his wife and the raging aunt, cheeks flushed. He shifted his gaze from Megans steely resolve to the relatives, ready to fight.
Aunt Vera he began, voice cracking. Honestly, theres no space and the vase is shattered maybe we should indeed go to a hotel? I could chip in a bit.
What?! they all shouted.
You sold us for a dress?! the aunt shrieked. You traded blood for this shrew! Well be damned! Paul, grab your bags! Were out!
Uncle Paul, who had been quietly sipping his beer, set the empty can on the polished sideboard and muttered.
Right then, love, lets go. No point sulking. Well find somewhere to stay. The worlds not without kind people.
A chaotic scramble began. Bags were stuffed haphazardly. Aunt Vera cursed Megan, invoking every ancestor she could think of. Lucy tried to soothe the child: Dont cry, little one, the nasty aunt threw us out, but well find good folk.
Take the ham! Aunt Vera shouted at James, pointing at a sack. Dont leave us any good food! Well starve!
She hoisted the sack onto her shoulder.
At the doorway she turned, looked James in the eye, and spat on the rug.
Forget my nephew. Forget our number. Ill call your mother, tell her everything. Youll hear from me.
The door slammed. The crash echoed down the landing. The lift dinged and voices faded.
The flat fell into a ringing quiet. Megan stood in the middle of the room, eyes on the shattered vase and the dirty rug. Her hands trembled. James slumped on the ottoman by the hall, covering his face.
Brilliant, he muttered. Now the whole family will curse me. My mother will have a heart attack. Happy?
Megan turned to him, no pity, only fatigue and disappointment.
You thought Id be happy letting them wipe their feet on my sofa? she asked. They broke my thing, disrespected my home, acted as if it were theirs. And you think I should smile for family peace? What peace? One where Im not worth a penny?
Couldve been softer he whispered.
Softer? With people like that you cant be soft. They only understand force. If Id bent today, theyd be here every month. Tomorrow a distant cousin, the next day the neighbours aunt. Our flat would become a free hostel. Thats not what I signed up for.
James stayed silent. He knew she was right, but admitting it would expose his own weakness.
Ill tidy up, Megan said, grabbing a broom. And you, if you want, can go to the hotel and help with the bags or hand over some cash. Its your choice. But theyll never step foot in this flat again.
James didnt go. He spent the evening on the kitchen stoolBy morning the flat was silent again, and I finally felt the peace I had fought for.
