The Relatives Arrived—And Stayed
Nina Whitmore was just pulling an apple pie from the oven when the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock—half past nine in the morning. Early for visitors.
“I’m coming!” she called, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron as she hurried to the front door.
On the doorstep stood her cousin, Valerie, and her husband, Geoffrey, weighed down with shopping bags and suitcases. Valerie looked frazzled and exhausted, while Geoffrey glowered beside her.
“Nina, darling!” Valerie gushed, throwing her arms around her. “We’re here! You wouldn’t turn away family, would you?”
“Val? What’s happened?” Nina blinked in confusion. “Where have you come from?”
“Manchester,” Geoffrey grunted, hauling a bulky suitcase into the hallway. “Bloody traffic all the way. Took forever.”
“Come in, come in,” Nina fussed. “Get yourselves settled. But—you didn’t warn me you were coming.”
Valerie shrugged off her coat and hung it on the peg.
“Nina, love, things have been… difficult. Geoffrey lost his job, money’s tight, and—well, we had to sell the flat.”
“Sell it?” Nina gasped.
“Debts, loans, you know how it is,” Geoffrey waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, we thought we’d come to you. You’ve got this big three-bed all to yourself. Plenty of space.”
Nina stood frozen, blinking in disbelief. Meanwhile, Valerie had already breezed into the kitchen, sniffing the air.
“Oh, that smells divine! Apple pie, is it? We’re famished—haven’t eaten properly in ages, trying to save pennies.”
“Sit down,” Nina managed faintly. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Geoffrey flopped onto a chair, surveying the room.
“Nice place you’ve got here, Nina. Fresh paint, decent furniture. Must be good, living alone.”
His tone carried an edge that pricked at her. She’d been a widow for eight years, accustomed to quiet and order. Her librarian’s salary was modest, but it covered her needs.
“Where are your things?” she asked, pouring tea.
“Right there in the hall,” Valerie nodded toward the suitcases. “Geoffrey, bring them through.”
“Which room?” Nina asked cautiously.
“Whichever’s spare. You’ve got three, haven’t you?”
“Val, wait. We need to talk. How long are you planning to stay?”
Valerie and Geoffrey exchanged glances.
“Well, until we get back on our feet,” Valerie hedged. “Find work, sort ourselves out.”
“And when might that be?”
“How should I know?” Geoffrey cut himself a hefty slice of pie. “Month, maybe six. Depends.”
Nina felt something inside her tighten. She knew it was wrong to refuse family in need, but the thought of sharing her tranquil home filled her with dread.
“Nina, you wouldn’t throw us out, would you?” Valerie clutched her hand. “We’re family. Family helps each other.”
“Of course I won’t,” Nina sighed. “It’s just… unexpected.”
By evening, they’d made themselves at home. Geoffrey sprawled on the sofa, channel-surfing at full volume, while Valerie rearranged Nina’s spice jars in the kitchen.
“Nina, love, your system’s all wrong,” she tutted. “Salt next to the tea? Sugar hidden away? I’ve fixed it properly.”
Nina stared in horror. Every item in her home had its place—meticulous, logical. Now, she couldn’t even find the coffee.
“Val, why did you move everything?”
“Because it was chaos! I’ve got an eye for these things.”
“Oi, women!” Geoffrey bellowed from the living room. “When’s dinner? I’m starving.”
“Coming, coming!” Valerie chirped. “Nina, what have you got in?”
Nina opened the fridge. A small block of cheese, two eggs, and a sliver of ham—her usual modest supper for the week.
“Not much,” she admitted.
“Oh, that’s nothing!” Valerie exclaimed. “We’ll need more. Geoff, nip to the shop.”
“With what money?” he grumbled. “We’re skint.”
All eyes turned to Nina. Reluctantly, she fetched her purse.
“Take what you need,” she said, handing over a few notes.
“Oh, you angel!” Valerie beamed. “We’ll pay you back, promise!”
They returned with bags of gourmet sausages, smoked salmon, a chocolate cake. Nina silently tallied the cost—half her weekly wages, gone.
“Now we’re living!” Geoffrey grinned, inspecting the haul. “Can’t survive on scraps.”
That night, after they’d retired to her former study, Nina sat at the kitchen table, numb. She was used to silence by ten—now, it was past eleven. The TV’s blare still echoed in her ears.
“Nina, why aren’t you asleep?” Valerie shuffled in, yawning. “Fancy a cuppa? A proper chat?”
“It’s late. I work tomorrow.”
“Oh, your little library won’t vanish! Tell me, don’t you get lonely?”
“I like my own company.”
“No gentlemen callers?” Valerie winked. “A pretty thing like you?”
Nina stiffened. Her private life was just that—private.
“No one.”
“Shame. A woman needs a man’s protection. Geoff’s a handful, but he’s solid.”
“Val, I really need to sleep.”
“Of course! Oh—can I borrow your washing machine tomorrow? And your face cream? My skin’s gone dry.”
Morning brought chaos. Valerie clattered pans, Geoffrey hacked coughs over the sink. Nina’s peaceful routine was obliterated.
“Morning!” Valerie trilled. “Scrambled eggs with tomatoes!”
“I don’t eat breakfast here,” Nina lied, gulping coffee. “I’m late.”
“Rubbish! You’re skin and bone—eat!”
Nina fled, tripping over their still-unpacked luggage.
At work, colleagues noticed her distraction.
“Everything alright?” the head librarian asked.
“Fine. Just… unexpected guests.”
“How lovely! Company’s nice.”
If only they knew.
Home again, she hardly recognised her flat. Geoffrey’s socks littered the sofa, dishes piled in the sink, laundry strung across the bathroom.
“Nina! How was work?” Valerie called.
“Fine. What’s all this?”
“Oh, we tidied! Did a big wash. Geoff fixed your telly—the signal was rubbish.”
In the living room, Geoffrey blasted an action film, shaking the windows.
“Could you turn it down?”
“Eh? Sounds fine to me.”
“It’s too loud.”
“Tough. It’s not forever.”
Dinner was torture. Geoffrey slurped, Valerie prattled about distant cousins. Nina longed for her book, her silence.
“Nina, can we borrow your car tomorrow?” Valerie asked.
“Why?”
“Geoff’s got benefits paperwork, and I’m job-hunting.”
Nina’s old Fiesta was her pride—rarely used, meticulously cared for.
“I don’t lend it.”
“Nothing’ll happen! Geoff’s a careful driver.”
“Thirty years, no crashes,” Geoffrey boasted.
“But you left your license in Manchester?”
“Forgot it. Still legal.”
They took the car at dawn, returning after dark. The tank was nearly empty.
“Where did you go?”
“Here and there. Big city, long drives.”
That evening, Valerie unpacked vodka and beer.
“What’s this?” Nina asked.
“Geoff’s treat. He’s glum without a drink.”
“I don’t allow alcohol here.”
“Don’t be priggish! He’s civilised.”
An hour later, Geoffrey was roaring off-key, sloshing his drink.
“Keep it down,” Nina pleaded.
“My house, my rules!”
“It’s *my* house.”
Geoffrey’s face purpled. “Not yours—*ours*! Family sticks together!”
Valerie intervened, but the damage was done. Nina locked herself in her room, pillow over her ears.
At breakfast, Geoffrey announced, “We’ve decided to move on.”
“Oh?”
“Ain’t right, cramping your style. We’ll find a bedsit.”
“Where?”
“Dunno. Somewhere.”
By noon, they’d packed. Valerie lingered.
“Your home’s lovely. Shame we didn’t fit.”
Nina nodded. “Take care.”
As the taxi pulled away, silence descended—blissful, golden. Nina breathed deeply, restoring order.
That night, over tea and a novel, she smiled. No noise, no demands. Just peace.
Her friend Lydia called later.
“They’ve gone, then?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Good riddance. Blood isn
