Listen, love, I need to talk to you about something
Emily braced herself for a long chat. Whenever her mother started a conversation like this soft and drawn out, li-i-sten there was never anything pleasant following.
Do you remember Abigail, Aunt Veras daughter? My third cousin, technically. Which makes herwell, something like your cousin.
Not really Mum, I met her once, at Grandmas funeral, ages ago.
It doesnt matter! Family is family. Anyway, Abigail is having a crisis. She, her husband, and their son are being evicted from their rented flat. The owners are selling up. Can you imagine?
Emily rubbed her forehead. Outside, the December afternoon was growing greyer by the minute, and her coffee was cooling off as steadily as her patience.
Mum, thats sad. But how does this concern me?
Oh, come on! Youve got that big three-bedroom flat, living all by yourself. They could stay with you, just while they find another place a month or two.
No.
The word slipped out before Emily could weigh things up.
What do you mean, no? Her mum sounded almost shocked by her bluntness. You havent even heard me out!
Mum, Im not going to invite three people I practically dont know into my home. Especially with a child. Especially for some indefinite period.
Its not indefinite! I said its temporary! A couple of months, tops. Abigails husband is working, theyll save up for a deposit, then move out. Emily, their son is only eight. Do you want a child out on the street, if you dont help?
They could rent a room. Try a hostel. A bed-and-breakfast. Anything.
With what money? Theyre out of cash! Being put out, you know? Properly thrown onto the street!
Mum, this isnt my problem.
Suddenly, her mother started quietly crying. Not theatrically just soft, broken breaths. Emily closed her eyes.
I dont recognise you anymore, her mum whispered through tears. Youve becomecold. Distant. Family in trouble, and you dont care.
Theyre not my family. Theyre yours.
And that means theyre yours as well! Or have you forgotten what family means? What it means to help your own?
I’m working from home. I need peace. I need my own space. I cant share my life with strangers.
Just for a bit, for goodness sake! Youve got three bedrooms! Three! And youre all alone, like a hermit. You didnt even get yourself a cat. What good is all this space?
It is good. I live here.
Selfish. Her mum sniffled. I raised a selfish daughter. Never thought my own girl would turn her back on family.
Im not refusing them food. Im refusing to let strangers into my home.
The talk went in circles. Her mother kept trying the same arguments, Emily repeated the same responses. After forty minutes, Emily realised shed already said Ill think about it twice. And soon after, Maybe its possible, in principle.
Just for a month, she said at last. Two max. If things go wrong, they leave immediately.
Of course! Emily, thank you so much! You dont know how grateful I am!
Unease churned in her stomach. Not physical something else. The kind that creeps over you when you know youve just made a huge mistake.
The next morning, the doorbell rang at seven. Emily stumbled out in her pyjamas, cranky, and the hallway filled with suitcases, boxes, bags, and a deafening shout from an excited child.
Emily! Darling! Abigail swept in and planted a kiss on Emilys cheek. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Youre a lifesaver!
Behind her came a broad man in joggers Sam and their eight-year-old, Archie, who instantly dashed off to explore the flat.
Sam, bring the big bag in here! Abigail called.
Emily counted: seven suitcases, four boxes, and two massive plastic tubs. For just a couple of months, it was a bit much.
Well settle in quickly, Abigail promised. Well be no bother at all.
The first two weeks ticked by in a managed chaos. Emily hid out in her room, worked through the blare of the TV from the lounge, and Archies feet pounding the hallways. She tried telling herself it was temporary, survivable. Not the end of the world.
Then Abigail rearranged the kitchen furniture, because its much more practical. Sam turned the balcony into a makeshift den. Archie broke the bathroom door handle, and nobody offered to fix it.
Abigail, Emily caught her in the kitchen, we need to talk. Youve been here nearly a month now. Any progress finding somewhere?
Were looking, looking, Abigail waved her off, eyes glued to her phone. Everythings so expensive. Unbelievable, really. Well sort it soon, dont worry.
I need some firm timelines.
Abigail glanced up, her eyes suddenly harder.
Where are we supposed to go? Sleep on a park bench? With our son?
Im not suggesting that. Im
Were looking! Abigail raised her voice. What else do you want? Us to camp out at the train station?
Sam wandered in from the lounge.
Something wrong here?
Emily took stock of their faces. Not grateful anymore, not even awkward.
No, she murmured. No problem.
And went straight to her room.
Of course, there were problems. More with each passing day. Sam monopolised the bathroom every morning exactly when Emily needed it for client meetings. Abigail shifted Emilys groceries to the bottom shelf of the fridge, putting hers on top, so its easier for us. Archie had discovered full-volume cartoons before sunrise at weekends.
Emilys work came in fragments. She fell asleep to the drone of the television. She woke up to clatters as Sam knocked things about in the hall.
One evening, coming home from the shops, she found her work desk buried in Archies toys. Abigail was sitting in her chair, scrolling through her phone.
Oh, youre back, Abigail said, without budging. By the way, could you sort the Wi-Fi? Yours is so slow.
This is my workroom.
So? Archies got nowhere to play. The bedrooms too cramped.
Emily silently moved the toys into the corridor. Abigail huffed, but said nothing.
Soon the council tax and utilities bill arrived, and everything had doubled. Emily set the paper on the kitchen table at dinner.
We need to talk bills.
Sam didnt look up; Abigail sliced a fishcake.
What bills?
The utilities. There are three of you and just me. Its logical to split the costs.
Abigail put down her fork. Are you serious, Emily? Were family. Youre not really asking us for money?
Im asking to split the bills. Its only fair.
Fair? Sam finally looked up. Fair is looking after family. Not rinsing people whore already in trouble.
Youve been here two months, free of charge. Using my Wi-Fi. Im not asking for rent just household bills.
You know what? Abigail stood up. If you begrudge a few quid, just say so. Dont act like youre our saviour.
Emily watched as they left the kitchen, Archie grabbing the last piece of bread, Sam muttering, Tight-fisted.
She sat at the table until midnight. Thinking. Replaying her mums words about family duty. Adding up all the money shed spent on her surprise guests. Wondering how much longer she could hold out.
The next morning, Emily entered the lounge where Abigail and Sam were watching TV.
Youve got one week.
Abigail didnt even turn around.
What?
One week to find somewhere else and move.
They both spun round.
Are you out of your mind? Sam jumped up. Where are we supposed to go?
Thats not my concern. I gave you two months. You havent been looking for anywhere, you havent split costs, you havent respected my home. Thats enough.
And who do you think you are? Abigail was on her feet too. Just because you got lucky with this flat, you think youre some kind of princess?
Im the owner. And I want you out.
Does your mum know how you treat your own? Sam stepped forward. Maybe Ill call her.
Call her.
Abigail snatched her mobile. Emily didnt move. Let her call. Let Mum shout, cry, blame. It didnt matter now. The decision was made.
One week, Emily repeated. If youre not gone in seven days, Im calling the council.
You Abigail sputtered. How dare you! After all weve done for you! We helped you!
You didnt help me. You lived here. Free. Thats a big difference.
Emily turned and went to her room. Locked the door. Sat on the bed, hugging her knees. Her heart was racing, but a strange wave of calm swept through her.
The week was hellish. Abigail refused to tidy, Sam accidentally broke a shelf in the hall, Archie scribbled all over the wallpaper in marker. Emily recorded everything on her phone.
On the seventh day, they left. Sam hauled luggage down the stairs, swearing under his breath. Abigail, standing at the door, threw one last barb:
Hope this all comes back to haunt you one day!
Emily closed the door behind them.
She wandered through the flat. Removed all traces of guests. Opened the windows aired out the smell from the den. Moved the kitchen furniture back.
By evening, her flat felt like home again.
Emily poured herself a glass of wine and curled up on the sofa. Her phone was silent her mum must still be recovering from Abigails complaints. Shed survive.
Kindness is a wonderful trait. But kindness without boundaries turns to weakness. And people take advantage.
Emily promised herself: never again. No more family duties. No more temporary stays. No more strangers in her home.
She finished her wine, washed up, and went to bed. For the first time in months: serenity. Complete quiet.
