Relatives Demanded My Bedroom for the Holidays, Left Empty-Handed When I Refused to Give Up My Sanctuary

Relatives demanded my bedroom for the holidays and left with nothing

So where am I supposed to stick this massive bowl of jelly? grumbled Aunt Pauline, wrestling a giant enamel dish into the fridge and shoving aside neat little containers. Theres absolutely no room! Its all full of your weird what is it carpaccio and avocados. Good grief, what do you even call these things?

Eleanor, stirring the gravy at the oven, took a deep breath and counted to ten. It was only the beginning. Her guests had breezed in just twenty minutes ago, but the flat already felt like a rowdy travelling circus had arrived and set about redecorating the entire place.

Aunt Pauline, could you please put it out on the patio? Eleanor asked, voice measured. Its cold enough out therenothing will happen to it. The fridge’s packed with my salad bits and those are not to be frozen!

On the patio! her aunt huffed, adjusting her voluminous floral housecoat (which shed brought with her and changed into before her coat was even off). What, and let dust from London settle on our food? You shouldnt keep things on the ground anyway. Well if you wont budge, Ill just clear out your tubs of grass. Nobodys eating that rubbish. Men need proper meat, not rabbit feed.

Eleanor shot a desperate glance at her husband, Petertall, calm, and attempting to be as invisible as possible while slicing bread at the kitchen table. He understood Aunt Pauline and her daughter, cousin June, inside out. June was currently auditing the bathroom tiles and loudly comparing grout consistency.

Pete, give Aunt Pauline a hand getting the jelly out on the patio, would you? Eleanor instructed, sounding firmer. Theres a cabinet all cleared, nice and clean, no dust.

Peter obediently grabbed the bowl from the still-fussing aunt and disappeared down the hall. Pauline immediately shifted focus onto Eleanor.

You look so pale, Ellie dearstill on your silly diets, arent you? Just skin and bone! Look at Junerosy, hearty, a pleasure to see, but you, youre all dried up. And I must say, your home looks so clinical. All white and grey. Its dull! Why not some gold wallpaper? They sell such lovely ones nowlooks the very picture of affluence.

We rather like the minimalist look, Aunt Pauline, Eleanor replied, tasting the gravy. Each to their own.

Just then, June swept gracefully into the kitchenthree years older but always acting as if shed acquired fifteen years of life wisdom and moral authority in those extra laps around the sun. Trailing her were her two sons, five and six, both with hands smeared in chocolate.

Ellie, do you only have a shower in the bathroom? June sat herself down, crossing her legs with dramatic flair. I thought thered be a proper tub. How am I supposed to bathe the boys tonight? They like a good splash about.

We did the renovation for ourselves, Eleanor replied, irritation rising. We prefer showers. The boys are old enough for a rinse. Its not as if theyre still babies.

This family holiday had been on the cards for ages, and Eleanor had hoped desperately for a last-minute change of plans. Pauline and June had invited themselves to celebrate in London, pleading, Its important to see family! and We want to wander about beautiful London! Eleanor, brought up with ingrained hospitality, couldnt refuse, though she remembered their previous visita week spent repairing her nerves and scrubbing grime from the old flat.

Back then it was a battered two-bedroom. Now she and Peter had finally moved into a glorious three-bed with a chic designer finish, completed only last monththeir nest, their pride. Every detail painstakingly debated, every inch hard-won.

Her bedroom was her sanctuarythe do not enter zone. Deep blue walls, blackout curtains, a colossal bed with a mattress worth more than a small car, and plush carpet that swallowed your feet. Guests were not to enter. The living room had a wide sofa bed and Peters study offered a second, comfy couch for overflow.

Mummy, I want a drink! Junes youngest piped up, yanking her sleeve.

Oh, go ask Auntie Ellie for some juice, June replied, waving him away. Ellie, could you give them something? Theyre completely worn out from the drive.

Eleanor fished out a carton of apple juice and poured two glasses. Careful, darlingsdont spill. Weve got real parquet here.

Pauline rolled her eyes. Dont get so twitchy about the floor! People before things, love. Kids will be kids. They spill, you mop. Youve got rather precious since moving to London, Ellie.

Peter, sensing imminent drama, suggested, Shall we mosey to the table? Its nearly fivetime to see the Old Year off.

The meal began in chaos. The boys zoomed around, grabbing slices of ham and cheddar. June chattered on her phone, describing the journey in mind-boggling detail, while Pauline critiqued every dish.

Salad with prawns? She speared one and inspected it like a scientist. Dont see the appeal. Herring under a fur coatthats proper food. This is just grass and rubber. Ellie, you couldve at least made plain boiled potatoes with dill. This stuff with truffle oil odd smell, frankly, a bit off.

Thats a delicacy, Mum! June drawled, setting aside her phone. Still, cant beat simple food. Ellie, hand over the mushroomsdid you pickle these yourself or buy them?

Boughtfarm shop specials, Eleanor answered.

Thought so. Cant be bothered with homemade, can you? Pauline stated. I brought my own jar, actuallyreal mushrooms, the way God intended.

Eleanor chewed in silence, eyes fixed on her plate. Peter, under the table, clutched her hand, sending her silent strength. Just three days, youve got this, his look said.

As eight approachedone bottle of Prosecco down and the kids finally subdued with tabletsthe issue of sleeping arrangements reared up.

Im shattered from that trainaches all over! Pauline moaned, rubbing her back. Needs must, I need to lie down.

Quite right, Mum, you need proper rest, June chimed in. Ellie, where are we sleeping?

Eleanor braced herselfshed planned this talk.

The lounge is sortedthe sofa beds wide enough for two adults. June and the boys can bunk in Peters study, which has another couch that folds out. And we have an inflatable airbed if you need extra roomits comfy, I promise.

A hush fell. Pauline stopped chewing; Junes brows shot up.

What do you mean, sofa bed? Pauline stared at Eleanor as if shed lost her mind. This cant be serious. I cant sleep on a sofa! My back would never forgive me. I need a real beda proper one.

Aunt Pauline, its an orthopaedic sofawe bought it for guests. Its firm, no nasty ridges

Sofas still a sofa! Pauline cut her off. Thats fine for young folk. Im not a teenager, love. I thought youd let us have your bedroomheard youve got a magical mattress in there.

Eleanor froze. Shed expected whining, not a full-on invasion of her most private space.

The bedroom? Peter asked, frowning. Pauline, thats our room. We sleep there.

So? June replied with perfect serenity. Youre young. Couple of nights on the sofa or airbed wont kill you. Mum needs comfort. Besides, itll be easier for me with the boys in therethe bedroom door closes, so you wont hear them rampaging about at night.

Hold on, Eleanor felt her cheeks burn. You want Peter and me to vacate our own bedroom, give you our bed, and sleep in the lounge?

Oh, dont be so dramatic, Pauline exclaimed. Were not asking for your soulsjust a few nights. Guests get the best, thats how its always been! My mum told me, and my gran. Seems Londons made you forget your roots.

Aunt Pauline, the tradition is good food and drink, Eleanor replied, voice steady. But a personal bed is like a toothbrushprivate. Sorry, cant do it.

June banged her glass down. Ellie, are you for real? You begrudge your own aunt and cousins a bed? After we trekked two hundred miles and brought you presents, you dump us on the couch like mongrels?

Not like mongrels, Peter said, baffled. The sofa cost over two thousand pounds, its great! Ive slept on it myself during rugby matches.

I don’t care about your prices! Pauline snapped. Its not about moneyits about respect! Your mother, bless her soul, would be ashamed to see the way you treat family. Selfish! Youre all your fathers daughter!

Mentioning Eleanors mother hit a nerve. Her mumgentle, long-sufferinghad always bent over backwards for Pauline, handing over cash, babysitting Eleanor remembered those visits: Pauline grabbing the choicest bits, criticising everything, then leaving her mum headache-ridden and broke.

Leave my mum out of this, Eleanor said quietly, dangerously. She was a saint, and you took advantage for years. Im not her. I know my boundaries. Bedroom is closed, end of subject. Hate the sofa? Theres a lovely hotel down the roadI can help book.

Hotel?! June spluttered. Youre kicking us out? On a paid basis, no less? Mum, are you hearing this?

Loud and clear, love! Pauline clutched her chest theatrically. Oh, my heart quick, water!

June dashed for the jug and pills. The boys, sensing drama, paused their tablets to soak up the scene.

Right, June declared as Pauline recovered. So its this: either we sleep in your bed, or we leave tonight. Dont expect to see us againeveryone will know what youre like now, Ellie. Your choice.

Eleanor looked at Peter. His face was stoic, but his eyes brimming with support. Hed had it toosick of the rudeness and entitlement turning their home into a hostel.

Strange choice, June, Eleanor said, rising from the table. Ive offered comfort, food, decent beds. You want my personal mattress and issue ultimatums. If its your way or the journey, then so be it.

Oh, really?! Pauline shot up, forgetting her bad back. Pack your bags, June! Get the boys! We’ll sleep on the streets before we stay in this pit! Better off at a train station than with family like you!

Mum, where will we go? Night trains arent running! June panickedher bluff clearly unraveling. Shed expected Eleanor to cave.

Well get a cab! Well go to Cindys out in Hackney! Shes only got a council bedsit, but shes got heartwould give the shirt off her back! As for you lot, choke on your truffles!

Chaos descended. June, sending glares sharp enough to crack tiles, started cramming their stuff into bags. Pauline stalked around, lamenting to the invisible spirits about her cruel fate.

Give back the presents! Pauline demanded at the threshold. I brought proper linen towels for youand you dont deserve them! Ill give them to Cindy!

Eleanor quietly fetched the packet (the scratchy towels shed never planned to use) and gave them over. Here, take them. Dont forget your mushroom jar.

And we will! June grabbed the lot. And the sweets for the boys as well! Not leaving anything behind in this house!

Peter watched the circus unfold, silently mortifiedgrown adults behaving worse than spoiled children.

Packing took fifteen minutes. Pauline never paused, reminiscing about ancient grievances and foreseeing lonely, thirsty deaths for Eleanor and Peter.

Have you ordered a cab? Peter asked as they donned shoes.

Dont need your handouts! Well order ourselves! June spat, stabbing her phone. Mum, lets gothe cabs here in five. Id rather breathe in the street than choke on the negativity indoors.

The party departed in a noisy stampede. Pauline slammed the brand-new front door so hard that plaster trickled from the ceiling.

Silence fell, punctuated only by the fridge hum and the mantel clock ticking. The table sagged under half-eaten prawn salad, scattered napkins, and sticky puddles of juice.

Eleanor sank into a chair and covered her face. Her shoulders shook.

Peter hugged her and kissed the top of her head. Its alright, love. Theyre gone.

Eleanor looked up, no tearsjust laughter. Hysterical, but victorious.

Pete, did you see? Better off at the station than here! Oh god, I feel reborn!

Wonderful, Peter grinned. By the way, they forgot the jelly! Its still outside on the patio!

Eleanor howled with laughter. The jelly! Their crowning glory! And poor Cindyshe lives in twelve square feet with a husband and a drink problem. Imagine her joy tonight.

Thats not our problem, Peter proclaimed, pouring them more bubbly. I was embarrassed at first, but when Pauline brought up your mum I nearly tossed them myself. You did brilliantly. Brave as a lion.

I just love my bedroom, Eleanor confessed, sipping from his glass. And our peace. Honestly, its shaping up to be the best New Years ever. Just us, enough food for troops, and no one griping about my salad choices.

They began to clear the table. Eleanor scooped up dirty plates, Peter loaded the dishwasher. The air in the flat seemed lightergone the stifling cloud of resentment and demands.

Eleanor gazed out the window. Big lazy snowflakes blotted out the tracks of the departing cab. The city sparkled. Somewhere in that swirl, her relatives bumped along, trailing bad moods and dashed hopes. She almost pitied themcarrying that weight must be exhausting. Much harder than sleeping on a sofa.

Pete, she called, lets put music on. Light some candles. Weve still got a celebration.

Definitely, Peter answered from the kitchen. Mains nearly ready. The duckour elusive party star.

An hour later, their table shone anew. Candles glowed, jazz purred, and the duck was a caramel revelation: skin crisp as autumn leaves, tender, delicious.

To us, Peter toasted. Our home. And to always leaving room for people who respect us.

And boundaries, Eleanor added, clinking glasses. We finally know how to defend ours.

Much later, in her beloved bedthe very one at the centre of all dramaEleanor wrapped herself in bliss. Silence reigned. Linen smelled of lavender, not someone elses perfume. She guessed her relatives were probably squeezing onto Cindys floor or huddling at a station, cursing uppity Londoner Eleanor. The thought brought no guilt.

Eleanor had learned something vital: its impossible to please everyone, especially if it means erasing yourself. And if familys bruised ego is the price of peacewell, its a bargain.

Next morning, Eleanors mobile buzzed aliveother relatives, texting about how shed thrown out poor ill Aunt Pauline onto the wintry streets. Eleanor didnt read or reply; she simply switched to airplane mode, stretched in bed, and grinned at the new day.

And that jelly? Later, she and Peter fed it to the local park dogs. The dogs were incredibly grateful, never complaining about the amount of garlic or wobbliness. Animals, unlike some family, know how to appreciate kindness.