“I refuse to be a servant to strangers, no matter their name.”
“Im not here to be anyones maid, surname or not.”
That evening, after an exhausting day at the pharmacy, I dragged my feet into the lift, dreaming only of a hot shower, cosy pyjamas, and a quiet cup of tea. But before I could even change, my husband, James, called out. His voice, calm and utterly unbothered, announced:
“Get ready, Emilyweve got guests tonight. My sister, Lily, is staying for a few days!”
A hollow feeling opened inside me. It wasnt a request or a discussion, just a statement: my time no longer belonged to me. I was stunned. *Which* Lily? Why had no one mentioned this? Ah, yeshis younger sister, whom Id never met or even exchanged a text with. All I knew were a few storiesa girl from the countryside near Manchester, still in sixth form, apparently sweet and capable, as farm girls tend to be. But hearing about someone is one thing; having them turn up unannounced in your home is another.
James, as if nothing were amiss, was already chatting with her in the kitchen when I arrived. They were sipping tea, and Lily looked perfectly at ease, as though she owned the place. After dinner, she began snooping around the flat with poorly disguised curiositypeering into every room like it was a museum exhibit, lingering especially in our bedroom, which she clearly fancied. She even staged a little photoshoot, lined up my skincare products, and tried on a few of my rings. I stood frozen.
“Lily, excuse me, but this is my personal space. You walked in without asking and touched my things. I dont appreciate that,” I said evenly but firmly.
She ducked her head, playing the innocent:
“I didnt think youd mind I just wanted to see how you lived.”
I didnt reply and went to shower. At bedtime, I realised there wasnt a single tea bag lefttheyd drunk them all. No tea, no peace, and worst of all, no consideration. Before turning in, James added:
“Maybe think about what we could do with Lily this weekend. Shell be bored on her own!”
I stifled a sigh. Why should I rearrange my plans for a girl Id just met? Id scheduled a shopping day, lunch, and a walk with my best friend, whom I hadnt seen in nearly a year. And now? Cancel everything for a teenager even her own mother hadnt bothered to accompany?
The next morning, while I was still half-asleep, Lily was already made up, wearing glittery jeans, phone in hand by the door.
“So, are we going? I wanted to hit the shopping centre, maybe grab a bite after?”
I looked at her and replied coolly:
“Listen, Lily, youve got a phone with GPS. Heres a spare keygo wherever you like. But please, dont bother me.”
“*What?!*” She looked shocked. “I thought you and James would come. Ive no cashMum didnt give me any, I was counting on you”
“We can stroll without spending. And if youre hungry, you know where the fridge is.”
Silence. She slunk to the kitchen, sulking. I grabbed my things and left for the shopping centre. Simply because I refused to feel like a stranger in my own home.
By evening, the whole family had descended. Too late, I realised it was a collective interrogation: why had I upset poor Lily? Why wouldnt I give her money? Why was I so selfish? No one let me get a word in. They were all shouting. Lily, in the next room, played the martyr, the victim of my supposed cruelty.
I let them finish, then said:
“Im not a servant. I owe no one anything. Lily means nothing to me. I didnt invite her. My wages barely cover *my* costs. If you care so much about your niece, sort her stay out amongst yourselves.”
James stayed quiet. Only late that night, after everyone had gone, did he murmur:
“Youre right I didnt want to fall out with them.”
End of story. Im not selfish. Im just a woman who demands respect. And if anyone thinks “family” means free labour and servitude, they should look in the mirror and ask whether theyve earned the right to invade someones life uninvited.
