“You don’t get to decide who lives here,” snapped the husband when his niece stayed over.
“Valerie, dear, do you happen to have any milk?” asked their neighbour Margaret, poking her head through the slightly open door. “My granddaughter’s come to visit, and I need to make her some porridge.”
“Of course,” Val said, setting aside her knitting and heading to the kitchen. “Take the whole bottlethere’s another in the fridge.”
Margaret nodded gratefully and was about to leave when a deep voice called from the living room:
“Who is it this time? As if they dont have their own home!”
Val flushed. Her husband, Barry, had been in a foul mood latelynothing was ever right. The neighbours were too loud, the children played outside too much, even the way she did things seemed to irritate him.
“Sorry, Maggie,” she murmured. “Barrys had a long day at workhes a bit on edge.”
“Oh, dont worry, love,” Margaret waved it off. “Men, theyre all the same. Thanks for the milk.”
When Margaret left, Val returned to the living room. Barry sat in his armchair, flipping through the newspaper as if nothing had happened.
“Why must you be so rude?” she asked. “Margarets a good womanweve been friends for years.”
“You’re friends with her, not me,” Barry grumbled. “And why does she always need something? Salt, sugar, milkcant she stock her own kitchen?”
“What does it cost you? Its not like were struggling.”
“Its not about the moneyits the principle. Give them an inch, and theyll take a mile.”
Val stayed silent. Arguing with Barry was pointless. These last few years, hed become sullen, withdrawn. It wasnt like him. Maybe it was the stress of work or just his age catching up with him.
The phone rang sharply, startling her. Val picked up.
“Hello?”
“Aunt Val?” came a familiar young voice. “Its Lily.”
“Lily, darling!” Val brightened. “How are you? Hows university?”
“Aunt Val, IIve got nowhere to go,” Lilys voice trembled. “Can I stay with you? Just for a few days?”
“Of course, love. Whats happened?”
“Mum and Dad theyve divorced. Dads moved some woman in already, and Mums gone to Grans. But theres no space, and II dont know what to do. My exams are coming up, and I…”
Vals heart ached. Lily was her younger brothers daughtera bright girl, studying economics at university. Just weeks ago, the family had been happy.
“Come straight away,” Val said firmly. “Weve got the sofa in the loungeyoull be comfortable.”
“Thank you, Aunt Val. Ill come tomorrow, if thats alright.”
“Whenever you like, sweetheart. Well be here.”
She hung up, turning to Barry, who was frowning.
“Whats this now?” he demanded.
“Lilys coming to stay. Theres been a mess at homeshes got nowhere else.”
“Oh, brilliant,” Barry scoffed, tossing the paper aside. “I come home to relax, not to babysit.”
“Babysit? Shes family!”
“Her parents problems arent ours. I work all dayI wont have strangers eating us out of house and home.”
“Strangers? Shes your niece!”
“Your niece,” he corrected sharply. “And I said no.”
Vals hands clenched. “Shes a good girl. Shes in trouble. We should help.”
“Should we?” Barry stood, his face dark. “Listen hereI pay the bills. I decide who stays under this roof.”
Val swallowed hard. Thirty years theyd been married. Once, hed been kindthe sort of man whod help anyone. Now, he was a stranger.
“Fine,” she whispered. “Ill tell her not to come.”
“Good,” Barry nodded, settling back into his chair.
Val walked to the kitchen, staring out the window. Children laughed in the playground below. Somewhere miles away, her niece was packing her bags, hoping for kindness.
She dialled the number.
“Lily?”
“Aunt Val?”
“Sweetheart, IIm sorry. Theres just no space here right now.”
A long silence. Then, quietly: “Its alright. Ill figure something out.”
The line went dead. Val held the phone until her hands shook, then wept.
The next evening, Barry stormed in from work.
“No bonus this year,” he muttered, hanging up his coat. “Boss says I missed targets. How am I supposed to hit them when they keep cutting resources?”
Val set a plate before himshepherds pie, his usual favourite.
“Again?” he grimaced. “Cant you make something else?”
She bit her tongue. Once, hed praised her cooking. Now, nothing pleased him.
“Barry,” she ventured, “what if we took Lily in? Just for a little while?”
His fork clattered. “Weve discussed this.”
“But shes family”
“Val!” he barked. “Enough.”
She fell silent. But something inside hersomething long buriedstirred.
The next afternoon, the doorbell rang.
Lily stood on the doorstep, suitcase in hand.
“Aunt Val,” she said softly, “Ive got nowhere else to go.”
Val hesitated. But then she stepped aside.
“Come in, love.”
Barry returned that evening, spotted the suitcase, and glowered.
“Whats this?”
“Shes staying,” Val said, squaring her shoulders. “She needs us.”
“I said no!”
Lily shrank back. “II can leave”
“No, you wont,” Val cut in, stepping between them. “Barry, open your eyes. Shes a child. She needs help.”
“Not my problem!”
“Then whose is it?” Val shoutedthe first time shed ever raised her voice at him. “Family looks after each other!”
A stunned silence. Barrys face twisted.
“Fine,” he spat. “Choose her, then.”
He stormed out, slamming the door.
Lily burst into tears. “Ive ruined everything”
Val pulled her close. “No, love. He did that himself.”
Weeks passed. Lily helped cook, cleaned without being asked. The flat felt alive again. Barry, sulking at his mothers, called daily, demanding Val send her away.
Then, one evening, Lily rushed in, beaming.
“Aunt Val! Ive got a joban ad agency! And some girls from uni want to flat-share!”
Vals chest tightened. “Thats wonderful, darling.”
Lily hesitated. “But Ill miss you.”
Val hugged her. “Go. Be happy.”
On moving day, Barry returned, helping carry bags to the cab.
“Finally,” he muttered. “Back to normal.”
Val met his eyes. “Normal for who?”
That night, over dinner, Barry sighed.
“Maybe I was too hard on her.”
Val studied him. “Maybe.”
“Ill try,” he said quietly. “To be better.”
She smiledfor the first time in years.
Somewhere, hope flickered.
