26April2025
I woke up to Helens frantic message flashing on my phone just after half past nine. Olivia, where are you? I need you to come straight away! I set down my halffinished mug of tea, rubbed the bridge of my nose and sighed. This was the third time that week shed used the words urgent and immediately.
Cant, Im working, I typed back, then turned my attention to the laptop that was already screaming for a deadline. A minute later the phone buzzed again.
What work? Youre remote! Just shut the laptop and come over. David and Sophie are alone, I have to get out of the house.
I smirked. Helen and David had been living at home for a year and a half. He claimed he was searching for a decent job, she said she was looking after the kids. In reality David spent his days scrolling forums and Helen spent hers chatting with friends and bingewatching series. If David hadnt inherited a modest sum from his late aunt, the household would have been scraping by.
My deadline is in three hours. Call Mum.
The reply was instantaneous, as if Helen had her finger poised over the keyboard. Mums busy! Olivia, seriouslywhats the point? You live right next door!
No, I cant, I repeated, Im actually busy. The line rang. Helen decided it was time for a more aggressive approach.
Olivia, what nonsense is this? she said without even a greeting. Im asking you, as a human, for help!
Im telling you, as a human, I have work.
Work? What work? Sitting at home on a computer, youre the great hero of productivity!
I closed my eyes. It was the same script every time.
Helen, a client is waiting for the project. If I dont deliver, I wont get paid. No pay means I cant cover the rent. Is that clear?
Lord, its just a delay! Were family, Olivia. Family! Do you even understand what that means?
I understand, but I really cant right now.
So you dont want to, she snapped, her voice turning icy. Just like thatyou wont help your own sister, your own nieces and nephews! How selfish can you be, Olivia?
Helen, I
No, listen! Whenever I need help you have an excuse, a flimsy reason! Were kin, Olivia, and you refuse to lend a hand!
I almost laughed. Over the past month Id spent at least ten days at Helens flatfeeding the kids, tucking them in, reading bedtime stories, picking up scattered toys. And each time Helen would disappear for a couple of hours that stretched into an entire day.
Olivia, I really need you to work.
Excuses! Nothing but excuses! You invent nonexistent tasks just to avoid family!
I hit the mute button, my fingers trembling with irritation. I took a deep breath, sipped the nowlukewarm tea and dove back into the project.
An hour later the phone rang again. Three missed calls from Helen, two texts, a fourminute voice note. I didnt answer; I knew what would comeaccusations, guilttripping, pleas for pity. By evening the tally of messages had reached twelve, all variations on Were family, why wont you help? It was absurd. David and Helen were two grown adults demanding that I, the only one with a paying job, drop everything and become their nanny.
The next day the pattern repeated, and the day after that, and again the following day. Helen called three or four times, sent long messages labeling me selfish, heartless and forgetful of what family means. David stayed out of the conflict, merely a silent presence in the background.
I stopped answering the calls. I let them go to voicemail and turned back to my work. I knew that if I gave in once, it would never end. I had my own life, my own plans, my own dreams, and I wasnt about to sacrifice them to someone elses whims.
On Saturday my mother, Margaret Hughes, called.
Olivia, whats happening? she said sternly.
Nothing, Mum. Im working.
Helen says youre refusing to look after the children.
Helen says a lot of things. Im not refusing to help; Im refusing to abandon my job every time she decides she needs a babysitter.
Olivia, shes your sister. The older sister. The younger should always help the older, thats how its always been.
Mum, Helen is thirty, shes married, theyre both at home all day. Why should I be the one to watch her kids?
Because youre family! Margarets voice grew sharper. What kind of selfishness is that? In our day nobody turned their back on family!
I slumped back in my chair. At twentyeight Id never learned to argue with Mum. Margaret always sided with Helenever since we were little. The eldest daughter was the good one, the proper one; the younger was just an afterthought.
Mum, Im not going to discuss this.
There you go! You wont even talk to me! Youve got a job now and think you can ignore family!
Im just living my life.
Your life is family! Remember that, Olivia!
I remembered, but the conclusion I drew was different.
The next two weeks turned into an unending nightmare. Helen kept calling, texting, sending photos of the kids with captions like Look how Sophie misses you. Mum chimed in every other day, rehashing the same old arguments about duty and family honor.
It couldnt go on forever. I realized I had two choices: break down and return to being a freeofcharge nanny, or make a radical change. An offer came up for a senior developer role in Bristol, with a good salary, an exciting project and clear prospects for advancement. Best of all, it was about eight hundred miles from the family home.
I accepted the same day. I packed quietly, found a new tenant for my flat, bought tickets, and left without telling anyone. I knew that if I said anything it would spark a fullblown dramaHelen would wail, Mum would scream, theyd beg me to stay, and eventually Id be pulled back. No more.
I flew out on Wednesday morning. Before boarding I texted Mum and Helen that I was moving. I turned my phone off at the airport, only switching it back on a day later after Id settled into my new flat.
Fortythree missed calls, eighteen texts and five voice notes later, the first thing I did was listen to Mums frantic voicemail.
Olivia! What have you done?! How could you leave without telling anyone?! This is this is betrayal! Come home at once!
Helens voice followed, sobbing, mixing accusations with pleas. How could you youve abandoned us the kids keep asking where Aunt Olivia is you hate us
I listened to the end, then calmly deleted every message and called Mum back.
Mum, Im fine. Ive got a new job and Ive moved.
Come back! Immediately! We need you!
No, Mum. Im staying here.
You dont understand! Helen needs help! The children
Helen needs to start looking after her own children, or hire a proper nanny, or get David to put the computer down. Im not obligated to be on call 24/7, Mum.
I hung up before the shouting could continue. An hour later Helen called again.
Olivia, how could you? Were sisters! You should be there!
I owe you nothing, Helen. Youre an adult now. Sort your own life out.
But the kids
Theyre yours and Davids. Raise them yourselves.
You know how hard this is for me!
I know, which is why I left.
The weeks that followed were a slow adjustment to the new routine. New city, new office, new colleagues. I went to work, tackled stimulating projects, and in the evenings returned to a quiet flat. The frantic calls stopped, the guilttripping faded.
Two months in, I met Max at a company social. He was witty, bright and utterly uncomplicatedno drama, no hidden expectations, no you owe me. We exchanged numbers and soon became a regular part of each others lives.
One afternoon I caught myself smiling for no particular reason, just because the day felt bright. I woke up looking forward to the morning, not dreading a barrage of messages from a sister.
Six months later Im sitting on my balcony with a steaming mug, watching the Bristol skyline that now feels like home. A rescued tabby, found in the blocks hallway a month ago, curls up beside me. In the kitchen Max is humming while making breakfast, the clatter of pans a comforting soundtrack.
The eight hundred miles between me and my family turned out to be the best medicine for the manipulation and entitlement Id endured. Leaving was the right choice, and for the first time in a long while I feel genuinely happy.
