Theyd gone to great lengths to keep their newly bought holiday cottage hidden from the relatives. Everything needed sorting at once. Grab the spades and start digging in the garden. They werent coming anymore.
The phone shattered the quiet morning so abruptly that Emily flinched. The screen flashed: Aunt Margaret.
Emmy, love! came an excited voice down the line. Guess whatwere coming to your cottage!
Her tea froze mid-sip. Aunt Margaret was the very one whod stopped by their new flat for three months while hers was being done up. Those endless months were filled with constant remarks*Why dont you have this?* or *Back in my day, we did it properly!*
How are you coming? Whos *we*? Emily managed, voice tight.
The girls and me! Just a weeks break, Aunt Margaret chirped, laughter and clinking glasses in the background. Whats the fuss? Were *family*!
That word*family*was Aunt Margarets master key, unlocking any door. After the flat debacle, Emily and James had sworn to keep the cottage a secret. But someone had let it slipaddress and all.
Auntie, we cant Emily tried, steadying herself.
Trains already moving! her aunt cut in cheerily. See you soon!
A sharp dial tone followed. Emilys pulse quickened. She called her husband.
James, Aunt Margaret and the girls are coming.
Bloody hell, not again, he sighed. Cant you just not answer the door?
They wont leave, Emily muttered, twisting the edge of her jumper. Theyll camp by the fence, embarrassing us in front of the neighbours. Remember the flat? *Kicked her own aunt out!*
By lunch, Aunt Margaret and her entouragethree middle-aged cousinshad commandeered the kitchen. The porch, where Emily had enjoyed her quiet morning, was now strewn with strangers bags. The fridge bulged with jarred preserves and uninvited groceries, wine bottles lined neatly beside them.
Emily, where are the towels? bellowed middle cousin Louise from the loo.
And loo roll! added youngest cousin Kate.
Your shampoos odd, sniffed eldest cousin Grace, wrinkling her nose at the lavender scent. Got anything *normal*?
Emily dug her nails into her palms. Her shampoo was *hers*personal, not meant for an invasion. It was time to learn to say *no*, even to family.
Lovely little place youve got here! Aunt Margaret declared, sinking into the wicker chair theyd brought back from France. Big garden, a hot tub Why keep it secret? Were *family*!
Precisely why, Emily said softly, tension creeping into her voice.
What was that? Aunt Margaret cupped her ear dramatically.
I said, *precisely why*! Emilys voice rose sharply. Because you lot think you can barge in, take over, and treat our things like your own!
Emily! Aunt Margaret gasped, half-rising. How *dare* you
I dare because its true! Something long-suppressed burst free. Remember the flat? *Just a week!*three months later, I was crying in the bathroom while you lot had karaoke nights!
The girls appeared in the doorwaytowels, wine glasses in handstaring at the scene.
Anyway, were off on holiday soon, Emily forced calm into her voice. Trains are booked.
Oh, dont fuss, well manage fine! Aunt Margaret waved a hand, settling back. Go enjoy yourselves!
No. Emilys knees trembled, but her voice held firm. Youre not staying. Not now, not for a week. This is *our* home, and we want it to ourselves.
Aunt Margaret blinked, as if the words didnt compute.
They endured three days. Endless mornings of strange voices in the kitchen, afternoons of *Whys it like this?* and *Everyone else does it better!* Evenings brought raucous singalongs, ignoring the neighbours glares. Emilys petunias wiltedno one watered them. Lilys toys vanished from the porch*in the way.* The cat fled next door to escape the noise.
On the fourth morning
Aunt Margaret, Emily said firmly, setting suitcases before them. Youre leaving today.
What do you mean, *leaving*? her aunt spluttered, wine sloshing. We said a *week*!
*You* said, Emily corrected. We never agreed. Just like the flat. Enough. Our trains tomorrow, and weve packing to do.
How *rude*! Grace snapped, jumping up. Were *fam*
Yes, *family*, Emily cut in bitterly. But that doesnt mean you trample all over our lives. You didnt even *ask*just invited yourselves!
Whats the harm? Louise scoffed. Its just a visit!
A *visit*? Emilys anger boiled over. Youve *occupied* us. You rearrange, criticise, take overremember the flat? Three months of *Back in my day!* while I sobbed into my pillow?
Aunt Margaret froze, glass mid-air.
Emily, we never meant
She remembered it like yesterday. The knock, Aunt Margaret tearful on the doorstep: *Renovations, love! Just a week!* That week stretched into three months.
At first, it felt harmless. Just a few days, surely? Theyd just moved ina two-bed in a quiet cul-de-sac, every piece chosen with care. Then
Emily, these curtains are *dreadfully* dull! Aunt Margaret clucked, rearranging the china. Graces are *lovely*proper lace, floral trim!
Theyre minimalist, Auntie, Emily had sighed.
*Minimalist*? More like *morgue*! And who stacks plates like this? Let me sort it *properly*.
Day by day, their home morphed into something unrecognisable. Gingham tea towels appeared*cheers the place up!* The bathroom became a chemists shop*the girls need their bits!* The hall sprouted a forest of coats*family must visit!*
Then came the girls nights
Just a *quiet* cuppa, Emmy! Aunt Margaret promised, lining up wine glasses.
The cuppa lasted till 2 a.m. James hid under headphones in the bedroom; Emily locked herself in the bathroom, crying silently.
Darling, why hide? Aunt Margaret would croon through the door. Come join us! Grace made her famous pie!
Mornings brought fresh critiques, unsolicited advice, and endless *Back in my day*
Emily, whys your fridge so *bare*? Aunt Margaret lamented. In my *day*
That phrase*in my day*was a death knell. Back then, women cooked, hosted, followed *rules*. Each morning, Emily vowed: *Today, Ill say enough.* But the words never came.
Hang in there, James whispered at night. Its temporary
That temporary lasted three months. Three months of foreign smells in her kitchen, strangers clutter in her cupboards, relentless *Grace does it *this* way*
When Aunt Margaret finally packed
How will I cope without you, love? shed sniffed, clutching her bags. Maybe *just* another week?
Auntie, Emily had said carefully, your renovations *done*, isnt it?
Is that *all* we are to you? *Family* matters!
After she left, they spent *weeks* reclaiming their flat. Out went the frilly tat, back went their own things. They swore: no more uninvited guests, no *just popping in,* no family without warning.
Yet here she wassuitcases, cronies, same old *but were *family*!*
Silence fell, broken only by the porch clocks tick, bees in the roses, a distant trains rumble.
Alright, Aunt Margaret said quietly. Youre right. We overstepped. Girls, pack up.
An hour later, they were gone. No slamming doors, no theatricsjust gone, as if finally *understanding*.
That evening, sipping tea on the porch, Emily wondered: maybe *this* was the way? Just *say* no. No excuses, no liesjust *no*. Sometimes the hardest thing wasnt learning to refuse, but finding the courage to do it *when it mattered*.
