So, this one day, David just drops this bomb”You dont get to decide who lives here,” he snaps after I tell him my nieces staying over. Honestly, Im still fuming.
Later, our neighbor Margaret pops her head through the half-open door. “Valerie, love, you wouldnt have any milk, would you? My granddaughters visiting, and I need to make her porridge.”
“Of course!” I set my knitting aside and head to the kitchen. “Take the whole bottleIve got another in the fridge.”
Margarets about to leave when Davids voice booms from the living room:
“Whos this coming round every day like they own the place?”
My cheeks burn. Lately, Davids been so bitternothings right. The neighbours are too loud, the kids playing outside annoy him, even my cookings suddenly not good enough.
“Sorry, Margaret,” I whisper. “Hes just tired from work.”
“Dont you worry, love,” she waves me off. “Men, eh? Thanks for the milk.”
Once shes gone, I march back in. Davids pretending to read the paper like nothing happened.
“Whyd you have to be so rude? Margarets lovelyweve been friends for years!”
“*Your* friend, not mine,” he grumbles. “And whys she always needing something? First sugar, now milk. Cant she stock her own kitchen?”
“Its just milk, David. Its not like were skint.”
“Its not about the money. Give em an inch, theyll take a mile.”
I dont argue. Whats the point? These past few years, hes turned into this grumpy stranger. Maybe its his age, or the jobs wearing him down.
Then the phone ringssharp, sudden.
“Hello?”
“Aunt Val?” Its Emily, my niece. Her voice wobbles. “Can I stay with you? Just for a bit?”
“Of course, sweetheart! Whats happened?”
“Mum and Dad… theyve split up. Dads moved some woman in, and Mums gone to Nans. Ive got nowheremy second-year exams are coming up, and”
My chest tightens. Emilys always been brightstudying business at uni. A happy family one minute, shattered the next.
“Come anytime, love. Weve got the sofa bed.”
“Thank you! Ill come tomorrow, yeah?”
“Absolutely. Well feed you proper.”
I hang up, turn to David. Hes glaring.
“What now?” he growls.
“Emilys visiting. My brothers girl. Shes got nowhere to go.”
“And weve nothing better to do?” He chucks the paper aside. “I come home to rest, not babysit.”
“David, shes *family*! My own niece!”
“Family or not, not our problem. If theyve made a mess, let em sort it.”
I gape at him. “Shes a good kidtop of her class! Were supposed to help!”
“Supposed to?” He stands, looming. “I work my arse off for *us*. Now were feeding extras?”
“Its temporary! Just till things settle.”
“Temporary?” Hes red now. “A week? A year? Guests like this never leave!”
I barely recognize him. Thirty years ago, he was kindthe sort whod help anyone. Now?
“Please, David. Shes desperate.”
“Not my problem,” he spits. “*You* dont decide who lives here. *My* house, *my* rules.”
Tears prickle. Hes never spoken to me like this.
“Fine,” I murmur. “Ill tell her no.”
“Good.” He plonks back into his chair.
In the kitchen, I stare out the window. Kids laugh on the playground. Meanwhile, my niece packs her bags, hoping for family to take her in.
I dial.
“Em?”
“Yeah, Aunt Val?”
“Love, its just… were cramped here. Maybe try somewhere else?”
Silence. Then, quietly: “Right. Thanks anyway.”
“Im so sorry”
“Its okay. Ill figure it out.”
The line dies. I clutch the phone, then cry.
Next morning, David kisses my cheek like nothing happened.
While cleaning, I cant stop worryingwheres Emily now? A friends sofa? A train station?
At lunch, Margaret calls. “Val, why was David shouting last night? Sounded nasty.”
“Oh, work stress,” I lie.
She huffs. “Heard him mention your niece. Something about her staying?”
I sigh. No hiding from Margaret.
“Her parents split. She asked to crash here. David refused.”
“And wheres she meant to go?”
“Dunno. Shell manage.”
“Since when do you let him bully you?” Margaret snaps. “Its your home too. And shes *your* blood.”
I pause. Shes rightwhen did I lose my say?
That evening, David storms in. “No bloody bonus,” he grunts. “Boss says I missed targets. How? They keep cutting budgets!”
“Hungry?” I venture. “Made cottage pie.”
“Again? Cant you cook anything new?”
I dish up silently. He used to beg for this dish.
“David… lets take Emily. She wont be trouble.”
His glare could freeze lava. “We discussed this. *No*.”
“But shes family”
“Valerie!” he barks. “Drop it. *Now*.”
I nod, but something inside me boils.
Next afternoon, the doorbell rings. Theres Emily, suitcase in hand.
“Aunt Val,” she whispers. “Sorry to turn up unannounced. But Ive got nowhere else.”
I panicthrilled to see her, dreading Davids reaction.
“Come in, love. Tell me everything.”
Over tea, she explains: Dads new girlfriend moved in; Mum fled to her sick grans tiny place. No dorm space till autumn, and exams loom.
She looks so lostlike me at her age.
“Stay,” I say suddenly. “Well manage.”
“But Uncle David”
“Hell cope.”
She hugs me, promising to help cook, cleananything.
David comes home, spots her bag, and scowls. “Whats this?”
“Emilys here,” I say firmly. “Shes got no choice.”
“I said *no*! he roars.
Emily steps out, trembling. “Uncle David, I swear Ill only stay a bit”
“A *bit*?” He sneers. “Define bit. Two weeks? Two decades?”
“David, dont shout at her!” I snap.
“Dont tell me how to behave in *my* house!” he snarls. “Who said she could come?”
“I did.”
His face purples. “So *youre* in charge now? *You* decide?”
“Shes my niece. Im helping her.”
“*You* dont choose who lives here!” he bellows. “Im the man of this house!”
Emily backs toward the door. “Ill go. I didnt mean to cause”
“Youre *staying*,” I say, shielding her. “David, shes a *child*.”
“I dont care! Let her parents deal with it!”
“Her *father* brought his mistress home! Her *mums* homeless!” I shout. “Were *family*!”
Silence. David gapesIve never yelled at him before.
“Fine,” he says coldly. “You pick her over me?”
“I pick *decency*,” I say. “Something youve forgotten.”
He storms off, reappears with a duffel.
“If thats how it is, Im gone.”
“David!”
“To Mums. At least there, Im respected.”
The door slams. Emilys crying. “Aunt Val, Ill leave”
“No.” I hug her. “*He* broke this family. Not you.”
We drink tea that night, talking for hours. Emilys terrified but determinedshell find work, pull her weight.
And she does. The flat feels alive again. We watch telly, giggle at Bake Off. David calls daily, demanding I kick her out.
“Come to your senses,” he says. “Dont wreck us over some girl.”
“*You* wrecked us,” I say. “Family helps family.”
Eventually, he caves. “Fine. She stays. But not forever.”
“Maybe,” I say.
