The House Where No One Awaits

The house where you werent welcome

Emily, theres no point leeching off your parents, Oliver shouted, loud enough for everyone in the snug kitchen to hear. Youre an adult now, youve got a head on your shouldersearn your own keep. Dont be a burden on your old folks.

On the old folks neck the words lingered, and it was already too much.

***

Right, wheres the milk ah, there it is! Emily rummaged through the coldroom, reaching for the white carton with the red lettering. Great, now we can make the crumpets

Before she could snatch it, the freezer door slammed shut, almost pinching her wrist. She jerked back just in time. The milk stayed out of reach, and she glanced in bewilderment at the man who had practically shoved her.

Mum, whats that about? she asked, perplexed. I just wanted the milk so I could fry the crumpets then wed all have something to eat.

Margaret, who was nearby wiping down the counter with a kitchen cloth, shook her head.

Were not after crumpets.

Fine, Ill just have something else. Its almost dinner, Emily muttered.

Her mother pushed her gently away from the freezer, pretending to polish the freshly swept floor.

You can eat at your own place, Emily, she huffed, rubbing the floorboards. Youre here to chat, not to come begging for food.

Chat

You dont need us to feed you, youve got your own life now.

The mother kept cleaning under the freezer while Emily set aside the flour she had already measured, pretending it didnt bother her. No matter how you looked at it, it felt as shabby as a house you never truly belonged to.

At twentytwo, fresh from university with a modest degree, Emily had taken a cramped room in a student hall because her trainee job barely paid the rent. She was eyeing a better, betterpaid position that would finally let her afford a decent flat of her own. The coldness from her mothers words only added to the feeling that the parental home, which she had always thought would welcome her, was turning into a doorway she could no longer pass through.

She stood before the kitchen doorwell, the freezer door that was forever offlimits.

Mum, Im not, she began, trying to defend herself.

But her plea vanished in the clatter of dishes.

Emily, food doesnt grow out of thin air. You work, you know that.

Just a little

A little milk, a little ham, a little cottage cheesethats how you build a pantry.

I was planning to cook for everyone

Were not starving.

The conversation stalled the moment Oliver appeared, his two lively grandchildren in tow, oblivious to the adult tension. They were already poking around the toy shelf.

Emily, theres no point leeching off your parents, Oliver repeated, his voice booming so the whole household could hear. Youre an adult now, youve got a head on your shouldersearn your own keep. Dont be a burden on your old folk.

Emilys eyes flicked to her brother, then to his grandchildren who had already torn open a packet of biscuits on the kitchen table. She watched as they plucked a sweet from the alwaysfull candy jar. And shewho had been cooking for everyonecouldnt even get a splash of milk for crumpets?

Why cant I have any? she asked, irritation sharpening her tone. Oliver takes, his kids take

Margaret snorted, waving a hand.

Theyre children, Emily. Do you want them paying for their meals? Taking money from grandchildren?

Her mother chuckled.

Oliver laughed in response.

Emily, youll come up with excuses, wont you? Children are one thing, you should be learning independence.

He didnt mind that hed just raided the biscuit tin and was stuffing his grandchildrens faces.

And you?

Me? Im more independent than you alllook, Im holding up two toddlers, he bragged. What about you? No kids, no cat. How will you ever feed yourself?

Maybe I should just stay put! Emily snapped.

Dont start that, you grownup girl, Oliver retorted, his tone turning scornful. Its time you learned to feed yourself, perhaps even have a child, before youre fussing about milk

Emilys cheeks flushed. Youre the one who

Ah, the triumph of my little sister finally seeing sense! What a revelation, Oliver mocked.

She watched him crush the biscuit packet with the speed of a rolling stone.

Emily realised then that she was no longer a welcome guest in that house; she was a visitor who had to keep her head down, lest she upset the household order.

Fine, she said, gathering herself. I think Ill be off.

Emily, dont take it personally, Oliver called after her. Your parents may be harsh, but theyre trying to teach you selfreliance. Its late, but better late than never.

She left without a goodbye, her steps echoing down the hallway. Oliver jabbered on about adult responsibilities and the etiquette of not pilfering other peoples freezers, while Emily let those words drift past her ears.

Weeks passed without Emily setting foot in her parents cottage. The reason was perfectly sensible. She quit the deadend job that offered no prospects or raise, and landed a promising new role with a friendly team and, most importantly, a salary that finally stretched to a proper flat of her own. She waited anxiously for her first paycheck, knowing the old visits would now cost a fare she couldnt afford.

One evening after work, a new colleague, Victoria, a slightly older woman who was acting as Emilys mentor, stopped by.

Emily, dont sit around here. Get used to the workload, youve got plenty of duties, Victoria said. You must be exhausted. Shall we pop out for a coffee? Theres a lovely little café just around the corner.

I still have a few things to finish

Finish later, Victoria lifted Emily from her chair. A breath of fresh air will do you good.

A weary yet content Emily agreed, and they walked to the café. Victoria insisted on treating her.

Oh, Victoria, thank you, but Ill pay, Emily protested.

Nonsense! Victoria winked. Im not short of money, and youre still finding your footing. Its no trouble at all.

Those simple, unpretentious words hit Emily like a warm blanket. It felt good to be looked after as a friend rather than as a burden.

Thank you, she whispered.

The new job settled, the pay grew, and finally, at last, Emily could afford her own little flatsomething shed never imagined when shed been shuffling between her parents cottage and the student hall.

Having sorted the practicalities, she decided it was time to pay a visit to her parents. She wouldnt go emptyhanded after the cold receptions of the past. She packed a generous bag of groceriesapples, carrots, a chocolate cake, cheese, and a slab of hameverything they usually bought themselves, just in case they wanted a taste of what shed brought.

Hello, Mum! she called cheerfully as she stepped inside. Wheres Dad?

Hes out taking the rubbish out and got stuck, her mother replied, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Good thing youre here. We were beginning to think youd forgotten us.

Emily set the bag on the kitchen table.

Whats all this? her mother asked.

Its for you, Emily said, pulling out a block of cheese. A little contribution to our dinner. Fancy a nibble?

Sure, why not, her mother answered.

Soon after, her father returned, a trash bag in hand, looking as if hed been on a brief adventure down the lane. He exchanged a few words with the neighbour, lingered for half an hour, then went back inside, his mind elsewhere.

After a couple of sandwiches, Emily felt a thirst.

I could do with a cup of tea, she said, heading toward the kettle.

Tea? her father frowned. Did you bring any?

No.

Then have a bite, you havent brought the tea.

It felt like the last straw of unfairness.

Dad, Ive brought a heap of other things! Emily protested, gesturing at the bag.

Eat that then, he replied, and keep the tea for yourself.

She left the room with a hollow feeling. The food shed brought seemed suddenly out of place, as if it werent meant for her. She understood that perhaps her parents were trying to push her toward independence, but it didnt feel like guidanceit felt like a rebuff. Oliver still came by, emptying the freezer without ever hearing the old admonition about not leeching off your parents. He could take whatever he liked, and no one seemed to mind.

Its settled then, Emily said, deciding she had nothing more to do there. Ill be on my way. Ive got enough to keep me going.

She didnt wait for any protest.

Visits to her parents lost their appeal. Time passed, and the memory of that cold tea incident lingered. Her brother called one Saturday, a short walk from her new flat in Littlehampton.

Hey Emily answered.

Hey, Emily! Youve got a flat near the academy, right?

Yes, she replied.

Great! Im taking the kids to the swimming pool at the academy, theyre exhausted, and we still have a trek home. Can we swing by yours for a breather? Its close by.

Emily wasnt thrilled to host her brother and his exhausted brood, but turning them away while they were on the way felt rude. She hoped it would be a oneoff.

Come on in, she said.

In fifteen minutes, Oliver and his two windblown children were sprawled on her sofa. The flat, a modest conversion of an old Victorian townhouse, wasnt exactly a luxury, but it was hers.

Gee, Emily, youve got a proper oldfashioned kitchen here, Oliver remarked, peering at the mismatched cabinets. Not exactly a fivestar hotel, but itll do. At least theres a roof over our heads! He laughed and, without waiting for an invitation, lunged for the fridge.

Whats for lunch? he muttered, rummaging through the shelves.

No one had asked him to bring anything. The familiar habit of taking without asking resurfaced, even in Emilys own home.

She slammed the fridge door shut.

Oi thats rude! Emily, are you mad at me? If you dont want me taking, youll have to set something out yourself. Whos going to feed us?

Silence.

No leeching off me, Oliver, Emily said, closing the door again. Youre an adult, feed yourself. Get used to looking after yourself.

Oliver seemed to scramble for a retort, but he could only stare at the empty fridge.

Whats that supposed to mean? he asked, genuinely puzzled.

It means stop rummaging through other peoples cupboards. I bought that milk for myself, not for you.

Suppose I sort myself out, what about the kids? Youll leave them hungry?

Ill give them a snack, Emily replied, handing each child a bottle of yoghurt. But thats it. Now, Oliver, youd best be off home. Ive got enough on my plate without you.

She ushered them out, the children clutching their yoghurt, while Oliver left, bewildered.

All day later, Emily received a message from her mother, written in a tone that made her stomach churn.

I never expected this from you, Emily. Youve become so harsh, so greedy. We raised you differently. Until you learn to behave, you wont be welcome in our home again.