Many years ago, I married a kind-hearted man named Edward. He was generous to a fault, always ready to lend a hand. But he had one weaknesshis sister, Beatrice. A woman of boundless imagination and a knack for turning every remark into a veiled plea for something extravagant.
She never spoke plainly. Her words were always draped in innocence: “The children have been longing to see that new animated film, but the tickets are dreadfully expensive these days,” she’d sigh. And Edward, ever the doting uncle, would rush to buy tickets, take his nieces and nephews to the cinema, and treat them to popcorn and sweets.
“Such lovely weather,” she’d muse another time, “and yet youre cooped up indoors. Why not take the children to the fair?” And who do you suppose would escort them? Us, of coursefooting the bill all the while.
Ive never had patience for subtleties. If you need something, say it outright. Ask. Explain. Dont dance around it, pretending you want nothing.
But Edward would leap at her every hint. He adored his nieces and nephews beyond reason. Yet the way he spoiled them knew no bounds. Bicycles, gadgets, outingsit all became routine. Beatrice needed only to glance his way, and hed oblige without question.
Not long ago, it was young Olivers birthdayBeatrices son. Wed already given him a splendid bicycle, which cost us a pretty penny. I thought it more than enough. But to Beatrice, a bicycle was mere trifles. In her eyes, the boy simply had to tour Europeand naturally, with her in tow. A child alone? Unthinkable!
In Beatrices parlance, it sounded like this: “Oliver dreams of seeing London. His eyes light up whenever its mentioned”
That time, Edward brought the boy a cake and a monogrammed cushion instead. I was at work, so he went alone. As you might guess, his sister was less than pleased.
Yet Beatrice never relented. Her demands grew each year. Edward, for his part, never seemed to mind. We had no children of our own, and he poured all his fatherly affection into his nieces and nephews. Perhaps he had no other outlet.
Then came the joyous newsI was expecting. When I told Edward, he wept with happiness, kissed my belly, and couldnt contain his delight. Hed longed for this for years. But then Beatrice arrivedwith another request. This time, a spring holiday in Edinburgh. Naturally, with the children. For the first time, Edward refused. He said all our resources were now for our own family. His sister erupted.
The next day, she called me. Shouted. Accused. “How dare you? Youve done this to steal the only man who ever cared for my children!” I hung up without a word.
Then came the real performance. The nieces and nephews waited for Edward outside his office, clutching handmade cards. “Uncle, please dont abandon us,” they pleaded. “Why do you need your own child when you already have us?”
Someone had clearly coached them. And that someone was no mystery.
Edward came home that evening, sat on the sofa, and stared at those cards. Something inside him snapped.
“Ive been a fool,” he said. “How many years have I endured this? ‘The boilers broken,’ ‘we cant afford new coats,’ ‘Fathers goneUncle, help us.’ Shes always used the children to manipulate me. And I fell for it. Like a fool.”
Then, abruptly, he pulled out a ledger. He began listing everything he could rememberbicycles, phones, summer camps, trips, coats, theatre tickets. The total was staggering.
And thenthe finale. Beatrice arrived at our home. She stood in the hallway like a queen and said, “Now that youll have your own child, you might do one last kindness? Let us have the car. Not for meIm not so bold. Just for the childrens sake”
Edward handed her the ledger without a word. “This is the sum. For everything youve taken. Repay it. You have six months. After thatcourt.”
She stormed out, slamming the door so hard the coat rack toppled.
The aftermath was a deluge of messages. Beatrices friends bombarded my social media, accusing me of destroying the sacred bond between uncle and nieces. The children were now “abandoned, starving, their mother in despair.”
But I didnt waver.
Beatrice owns two flats. One from her ex-husband, the other because Edward gave up his inheritance for her. She receives a generous allowanceshe doesnt live in poverty. Shes simply grown accustomed to entitlement. And nowits over.
Well soon have a child of our own. And for the first time, Edward has a real family. No manipulations, no theatrics, no games. And you know what? I think our story is only just beginning.
