Clarissa wanted to celebrate her milestone birthday at their place and demanded they clear the flat.
“Katie, has Tarquin already told you?” her mother-in-law began. “Listen! Therell be up to twenty guests. Well start prepping the night before. Ill come round early, around six.”
“At night?” Katie asked skeptically. “No, I never agreed to that.”
“Hold on, Im not done. Tarquins got the shopping listhe promised to buy everything.”
Tarquin had always helped his older sister, Sienna. By thirty, shed married twice, divorced twice, and both times, it was the husbands fault”just not the right one.” Their mother, Margaret, had drilled into him since childhood:
“Your sister needs your help.”
And so he did. With money when Sienna was “temporarily” between jobs. With repairs in her rented flat. With endless moves after each failed marriage.
Then he got married.
Katie, his wife, tolerated it at first. But when Sienna askedfor the fifth time that yearto borrow their car “just for a few days” because hers had “let her down again,” Katie said, softly but firmly:
“Tarquin, enough. We need the car this weekend too. I thought we had plans.”
“Cant you walk?”
“No. You cant walk to my parents cottage. Theyve picked two buckets of cucumbers for us. I thought you heard me.”
“Yeah sort of. But you understandSiennas in a bind.”
“Again? What kind?”
“Not sure,” Tarquin hedged, “but she needs it more.”
“No, Tarquin. Not this time. Either you say no, or buy me my own car. Im tired of taking the bus while my husband chauffeurs everyone but me.”
For the first time, Tarquin hesitated. He was about to call Sienna and refuse when Margaret swiftly set things straight:
“Youd abandon your sister for your wife? Shes all alone! Who else will help her?”
And so he did, despite the rows with Katie. Once, they didnt speak for days until Tarquin snapped:
“Why wont you talk? Are you sulking?”
“Wow. It took you three days to notice?” Katie scoffed.
“I just dont get itwhats the problem?”
Katie laughed, incredulous.
“Seriously? Your sister stole our entire weekend because she needed a lift to her friends country house. I thought you were just dropping her offnext thing, youre gone for two days. Doesnt that bother you?”
“Why should it? We had a few drinks. Her ex was therewe got on fine. Had to celebrate, didnt I? Was I meant to leave like some idiot? Thatd be rude.”
“You couldve called.”
“You couldve too,” Tarquin shot back.
“I did! Your phone was off. Imagine how that feltno idea where my husband was. Meanwhile, youre off relaxing from me,” Katie fumed.
“Stop exaggerating,” he muttered, waving his ringing phone dismissively.
Tarquin stepped onto the balcony before answering. He knew Katie wouldnt appreciate another call from Sienna.
“Hey, little brother!” Sienna chirped. “My thirtieths in two weeks! You get it, right?”
Tarquin glanced warily at Katie, who was ladling soup.
“So what do you want?” he asked.
“You always read my mind!” Sienna giggled. “I want to celebrate at yours! Your lounge is huge. My rented place is tiny, and the landladys a nightmare. Restaurants cost a fortune.”
“What about a pub? Ill chip in.”
“Are you mad?!” Sienna gasped. “Its my thirtieth! Why should I pay when youve got a perfectly good flat? And youll have to pay anywayIm not some heiress.”
“Let me talk to Katie first. Its her home too. She might have plans.”
“Too late!” Sienna cut in. “Ive already told everyone its at yours. Clear the flat for the day, yeah? Mums handling the food.”
Tarquin sighed, rubbing his face. As he scrambled for an excuse, his phone buzzeda text from Margaret.
*Siennas sent the menu. Need groceries. Tell Katie to help. And with the cooking.*
Meanwhile, Katie, unaware of the impending disaster, curled up with her phone to watch her favourite series. When Tarquin shuffled in, eyes down, she knew instantly.
“What now?” she asked calmly, pausing the show.
“Katie, listen Siennas turning thirty. Its a big one. She wants to celebrate.”
Katie looked up.
“Fine. Let her. Whos stopping her?”
Tarquin scratched his neck.
“Its not that. She wants it here.”
“Here? *Our* flat?”
“Yeah, just for the evening. Says restaurants are pricey, her place is cramped”
“And you agreed?”
“I said Id ask you! But Siennas already invited everyone. Mums planning the menu”
Katie shut her eyes, inhaling sharply.
“Tarquin. Are you actually an adult? Or just Siennas personal errand boy?”
“Dont start.”
“*Im* starting?” Katie held up her phone. “Nobody even *asked* me. This is *my* home, not your familys drop-in centre. Sienna wants a party here, Im expected to cook, your mums bossing meand I wasnt *consulted*?”
Her phone rang.
“Ah, the cherry on top,” she hissed. “Your mother.” She waved it in his face.
“Katie, has Tarquin told you?” Margaret trilled. “Righttwenty guests. Well start prepping the night before. Ill be round by six.”
“At night?” Katie smirked. “No, that wasnt the deal.”
“Wait. Tarquins got the shopping list. Hell buy everything.”
“Suppose he does,” Katie said flatly. “Whos paying?”
“Tarquins covering it,” Margaret said briskly.
“So let me get this straight. Youre turning *my* flat into a restaurant, and *were* footing the bill?” Katies restraint snapped.
“Siennas family! Cant you help for one day? Chop some salad, make sandwichesyoure the lady of the house!”
“Margaret,” Katie cut in, “I just found out about this. I never agreed to host Siennas birthday.”
“Enough with *my* flat! Youre marriedeverythings shared!” Margaret snapped.
“Oh, really? If this were *Tarquins* flat, you wouldnt say that. Then Id just be some freeloader.”
“Dont be absurd. Done talking. Shoppings due by Friday.” Margaret hung up.
“What was *that*?” Katie asked, hearing the dial tone.
“Stop playing the victim!” Tarquin finally erupted. “Youve been told youre wrong. Admit it and drop the attitude.”
Katie froze. Then she stood, walked to the wardrobe, and silently pulled out a large duffel bag. She went to the bedroom, yanked open drawers, and began mechanically packing Tarquins shirts and jeans.
Meanwhile, Tarquin fancied himself the victor. He loudly cracked open a beer, flopped onto the sofa, and turned on the football, as if nothing had happened.
He assumed Katie would “cool off.” Grumble a bit, then let it go. He even expected her to call him for dinner.
He was wrong.
Half an hour later, Katie stood in the hallway, her coat on, the duffel bag stuffed at her feet. Tarquin wandered out for another beer and stopped dead.
“Whats this? Some kind of performance?” he muttered.
Katie looked at him icily.
“No performance, Tarquin. Its over. I wont be a shadow in my own life, a servant in my own home, a backdrop for your mum and sisters whims. Be the dutiful son and brotherfine. Go back to your mums. Prep for the party. Im sure shell *love* hosting you.”
“Youre serious?” He stepped closer. “I wont come back.”
“Deadly serious,” Katie nodded. “I dont *want* you back. Ive tolerated so much, I barely recognise myself. But no more. If three years couldnt teach you to respect me, nothing will.”
“Katie you cant just throw this away!”
“You cant throw away whats already broken.”
Tarquin snorted, still not grasping her resolve.
“Oh, and” Katie added, “your shirts and jeans are here. No need to thank me. Leave. Now.”
He opened his
