I refuse to be a servant to people I dont know, no matter their name.
Im not here to be anyones maid, even with their fancy surname.
That evening, after an exhausting shift at the chemists, I dragged myself into the lift, dreaming only of a hot shower, soft pyjamas, and a quiet cup of tea. But before I could even change, my husband, Oliver, called out. His voice, calm and utterly unapologetic, announced:
Get ready, Emily. Weve got company tonight. My sister, Poppy, is coming to stay for a few days!
A hollow pit opened inside me. This wasnt a request or a discussionjust a statement, as if my time no longer belonged to me. I was stunned. *Which* Poppy? Why had no one mentioned this? Oh yes, his younger sister, the one Id never met, never even exchanged a text with. All I knew were vague storiesa countryside girl from near Leeds, still in sixth form, apparently quiet and resourceful, the way farm kids are. But hearing about someone is one thing; having them turn up unannounced in your home is another.
Oliver, as if it were nothing, was already chatting with her in the kitchen when I arrived. They were sipping tea like old friends, and Poppy looked perfectly at ease, as though she owned the place. After dinner, she began wandering the flat with poorly concealed curiositypeering into every room like it was a museum exhibit, lingering especially in our bedroom, which she clearly fancied. She even snapped a few selfies, rummaged through my skincare, and tried on some of my jewellery. I stood frozen.
Poppy, excuse me, but this is my personal space. You walked in without asking and touched my things. I dont like that, I said, calm but firm.
She dropped her gaze, playing the innocent.
I didnt think youd mind I just wanted to see how you lived.
I didnt answer and went to shower. When I finally settled into bed, I realised there wasnt a single teabag lefttheyd drunk them all. No tea, no peace, and worst of all, no consideration. Just before lights out, Oliver added:
Maybe think about what we could do with Poppy this weekend. Shell be bored without company!
I stifled a sigh. Why should I rearrange my life for a girl Id just met? Id planned a day outshopping, lunch, a stroll with my best friend, whom I hadnt seen in nearly a year. And now? Cancel everything for a teenager even her own mother couldnt be bothered to escort?
The next morning, as I was still blinking sleep from my eyes, Poppy was already made up, dressed in a bedazzled denim jacket, 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 answered evenly:
Listen, Poppy, youve got a phone with GPS. Heres a spare keygo wherever you like. But please, dont disrupt my day.
*What?* She gaped at me. I thought you and Oliver would come. Ive got no moneyMum didnt give me any, I was counting on you
You can explore without spending. And if youre hungry, the fridge is right there.
Silence. She slumped into a kitchen chair, 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 an ambush: why had I hurt poor Poppy? Why wouldnt I give her money? Why was I so selfish? No one let me get a word in. They were all shouting. Poppy, in the other room, played the martyr, the victim of my supposed cruelty.
I let them finish, then said:
Im not a servant. I owe nothing to anyone. Poppy is nothing to me. I didnt invite her. My wages barely cover *my* life. If you care so much about your niece, *you* sort her stay.
Oliver stayed silent. Only late that night, once everyone had gone, did he murmur:
Youre right I didnt want to fall out with them.
End of story. Im not selfish. Im a woman who demands respect. And if anyone thinks family means free labour and obligation, they ought to look in the mirror and ask themselves if theyve earned the right to invade anothers life unasked.
