The niece, Emily, turned up at my flat, eyes flashing with hurt because I hadnt put a plate before her.
Sarah lives half a country away, in Manchester, while Im holed up in Liverpool. Her daughter has dreamed of a place at the University of Manchester, the one that sits just on the other side of the Pennine. Shell be moving into halls later, but for now shes in town for a couple of weeks to sort out some paperwork a few exams, some signatures. I never bothered with the details; I just know that a preuniversity visit is par for the course. Sarah had arranged for Emily to stay with me.
Whos supposed to set the table? We never talked about meals. If her mother keeps quiet, theyll sort it out among themselves. I glance into the lounge and see Emily fuming, arms crossed. Whats wrong? I ask. She snaps, I thought youd have a proper lunch ready for me. I fire back, Im not going to feed you, and Im running on my own schedule. Ive got to dash now! Call your mum, have her transfer some cash to your account, pop down to the shop for a few biscuits, a cake, a cuppa tea. And buy the tea Im out! Come on, youre eighteen, you can manage.
Helen hasnt spoken to me in ages, never mentioned that after the kids flew the nest my husband vanished to some unknown job, and I threw myself into work. My timetable is a nightmare; Im only home irregularly, and the energy to do housework has simply evaporated. A proper nights sleep is a luxury I rarely get.
Im not about to starve a guest. Seeing Emily, now grown and quite ladylike, is a pleasure, but Im no longer that spry Aunt Lydia who couldve cooked a Sunday roast for an elephant without blinking. Let her shop, chop, boil, fry, steam or better yet, buy something readymade so she doesnt wreck the stove or the flat.
Shes sulked, cooled down, and now broods in silence each day, apparently expecting a full board with mums help. Maybe things will settle. Its hard to drop the role of the everready, easygoing aunt after years of keeping the peace with everyone in my circle. Even now Im still decent: Ive offered a free bed, albeit missing the extra touch. Ive booked an appointment with a therapist to learn how to tell my family, gently but firmly, that Im not the same functional machine I used to be. Theyll have to expect less from me.
