Those Are Not My Children: Help Your Sister If You Want, But Not at My Expense. She Destroyed Her Fa…

These arent my children. If you want to help your sister, fine but not at my expense. She ruined her own marriage, now she insists on leaving her children with us while sorting out her life.

What a lovely home you two have made, brother. Honestly, Im a bit jealous, Lucy said, running her finger across the tablecloth, looking over our kitchen with an appraising eye. Emily put the salad bowl down and quietly took a seat opposite me. I smiled at my sister, oblivious to how tense my wife had become, clenching a napkin in her fist.

We put in a fair bit of effort, I said. Took us half a year to find a place that felt right.

Wed sold our flat for this house and moved here, just outside Bath, closer to my side of the family. Our own patch of garden, our own veg beds, a sense of peaceEmily had dreamed of all this for years. Two months ago, it finally became reality.

I never managed to keep the family together though, Lucy sighed, staring at her plate. “It’s been three months, but it still feels like a fog. I wake up at night, and there’s no one there. The kids ask about their dad. I dont know what to say anymore.

Our mum, Margaret, sat at the head of the table and reached over to squeeze Lucys hand.

Itll get better, sweetheart. The main thing is the children are healthy. That fool will regret what hes done, leaving you like that.

My nephew, Oliver, four years old, slid off his chair and scampered to the sitting room. A crash rang outsomething had come off a shelf.

Oliver! Careful! Lucy called out, not moving.

Sophie, just three, whined on Lucys lap, demanding attention. Lucy distractedly bounced her, her thoughts still with us.

At least now youre nearby. After Mums operation, she can hardly get about on her owntheres no one else to help.

Margaret picked up the thread. Was a miracle I made it over in that taxi. Fourth floor, no lift, my knees giving me grief, and my blood pressures all over the shop. Heaven knows how Id manage grandkids by myself.

Emily got up to fetch the main course. On the windowsill, there were trays of tomato seedlingstiny green shoots in little peat pots. In a few weeks, wed be able to get them in the soil. Our first tomatoes ever.

I hope you wont mind if sometimes I leave the kids? Lucys voice followed Emily into the kitchen. Only when its absolutely necessary. Rarely! Its just that I need to look for a job, see the doctor, meet the solicitor about the divorce. Where else am I supposed to take them?

Emily turned around. Lucy was staring at me, her eyes full of vulnerabilitya look Id seen her use a thousand times. Shes twenty-seven, but sometimes she can play everyone like a book.

I nodded, trying to be supportive. Of course, Luce. Well help, dont be silly. Right, Em?

Everyone looked at Emilythree pairs of eyes, all waiting for the answer.

Yes, of course, Emily managed. If its really necessary.

Lucy lit up. Youre both saints. Really, its just for a couple of hours, not long at all. Promise.

The family left around eleven. I got Mum a taxi, helped her down the stepsshe groaned on every one, clutching the rail. Lucy bundled drowsy kids into her battered old Vauxhall, calling out through the window, Thanks for having us, you two are wonderful!

Emily quietly cleared the table, stacking the plates in the sink. I hugged her from behind and kissed her head.

See? That was nice. Mums happy, Lucy perked up. We made the right move coming here.

She only mumbled, Mmm.

You okay? Knackered, are you?

A bit.

She didnt say what really bothered her. Sometimes, when its really necessary kept echoing in her head. She knew too well how words like that turn into every day, because it suits.

A week later, Lucy called in the morning.

Em, help me out, please. I need to get to the doctor, urgent. Mum cant manage them. Just three hours, Ill collect them before lunch.

Emily looked at her open laptop, spreadsheets up and the quarterly report overdue for Friday.

Lucy, Ive a deadline

Theyre good as gold! Just put the telly on, theyll keep themselves busy. Please, Em, I really need this.

Half an hour later, the kids were at ours. Lunch came and wentno sign of Lucy. Evening quietly edged in.

At six I got home. Poked my head into the sitting roomkids glued to the TV.

Oh, Lucy hasnt picked them up yet?

Nope. Promised by lunch, sent a message, running late.

Doesnt matter, I shrugged and cracked open a beer from the fridge. Theyre not strangers. Let them stay.

Emily said nothing. Oliver had already spilt juice on the rug, and Sophie was almost out of nappiesthere was only one left in her bag.

Lucy finally turned up just before nine, radiant, freshly made-up, smelling of coffee.

Sorry, got tied up. Thank you, youre a lifesaver!

Emily finished the report by three in the morning, her head buzzing with the childrens shrieking.

Four days lateragain. Important job interview. Lucy dropped the kids at nine, promised a three oclock pick-up. That day, I was home, trying to catch up on sleep after a night shift. Woke up closer to lunch and trudged to the kitchen.

Theyre still here?

Looks like it.

Ah, its fine. I poured myself some tea, flicked on the football. Dont worry, Im here.

That was being here. Watching the match while Emily dashed between the children and her laptop. Oliver sidled up twice, Uncle Tom, come play? But I just waved him away: Later, mate. Match on.

Lucy fetched the kids at eight that night.

By the third week, sometimes had become a routine: three, sometimes four times a weekdoctors, solicitors, job interviews, friends. A couple of hours stretched to the whole evening.

One evening, after Lucy finally left with her kids, Emily sat across from me.

Tom, I cant keep doing this.

Doing what?

Three times a week. My works suffering.

I frowned. Its a tough time for her. Husband walked out, shes left on her own. Were family.

I know. But she always says its for a few hours, then turns up at ten at night. It isnt help, its

What?

Emily wanted to say it was cheeky, that Lucy was taking advantage, but she held her tongue.

Mum rang today, I said. Lucy needs time, thats all. Shes still young, life flipped upside down. Im her brotherits my job to help.

And what about me?

Youre my wife, I responded like it was obvious. Were family too.

Emily turned to the window. Outside, twilight fell, tomato seedlings stretching in their pots, waiting to be planted. Shed hoped to get to them Saturday.

Arguing was useless.

Friday evening, I walked in from work, barely through the door when I said, Lucy rang. Needs us to mind the kids tomorrow. Two job interviews and the cars acting upwants to get it serviced.

Emily put her laptop aside, looking up at me.

Tom, weve discussed this alreadyI cant give up every weekend.

Oh, come on, dont be like that, I threw my coat over a chair and headed for the fridge. Shes my sister. Whats so hard about it? Youre at home anyway.

Im not at homeI work from home. Thats different.

Just work while they watch cartoons, its no big deal.

Emily started to argue, but seeing how exhausted and irritable I was, she just nodded. Tomorrow was Saturday. Shed planned to finally get those seedlings in the groundthey were big enough now and needed planting.

All right, she said, bring them round.

Lucy bustled in at eleven the next morning. She was radiant, hair done, new dress, made up as though she were off for dinner, not an interview.

Thanks a million, you two! Youre lifesavers. Ill pick them up by five, six at the latest.

Lucy, the kids bag?

Oh, its in the car! One sec.

She handed Emily a half-empty bag a minute later.

Nappies, spare clothesall in there. Got to run, already late!

Door banged shut. Emily found herself in the hall with two kids and a tiny bag of supplies. I was out in the garage, tinkering with the car and helping a neighbour.

By midday, Oliver was bored of cartoons and racing up and down the house. Sophie was wailinghungry, thirsty, needing cuddles. Emily juggled children and kitchen, trying to get lunch made.

I strolled in at two.

Hows things?

All right, Emily panted, wiping her hands on her apron. Can you keep an eye on them, please? I need to get those tomatoes planted before its too late.

Sure, just let me wash up.

Emily headed outside, laid out the seedlings and tools. Bent over the veg bed, she started digging holes. Ten minutes later, there was a loud crash in the house, then the sound of crying.

She dropped her trowel and sprinted inside.

In the living room, I was scrolling through my phone on the sofa. Oliver stood in the middle of the room, beside smashed clay pot, spilled compost, and broken tomato plantsthe very ones Emily had painstakingly nurtured for two months.

What happened? Emily demanded.

He climbed onto the windowsill, I barely glanced up from my screen. Didnt get there in time.

Emily stared at the dirt, at the snapped green shoots. Two months of watering them, moving them to catch the light, waiting for them to be strong enough.

Auntie Em, you cross? Oliver asked, frightened.

No, she replied, kneeling to pick up the pieces. Go to your Uncle Tom.

I finally put down my phone. Dont worry, love. Its just plants. You can sow some more.

Emily didnt reply. There was a lump in her throat. It was more than just plantsit was her dream of a peaceful life, again set aside for someone elses children.

At five, Lucy didnt show. At six: a text, Running a bit late. Seven: silence. Emily rang, but Lucys phone was off.

At eight, a posh black Range Rover pulled up outside. Emily peeked outLucy, cheerful, tipsy, tottered to the gate in heels. A man in his forties sat at the wheel, leather jacket and all.

Thanks, Ben! she waved. Speak soon!

Lucy turned, spotted Emily on the steps.

Oh, hi! Sorry Im late. Bumped into an old friend after my interview. He gave me a lift.

The scent clung around herwine, something sweet, liqueur maybe. Thered been no interview, no garage. Lucy had pawned off the kids and gone out enjoying herself.

How was the interview? Emilys voice was flat.

What? Oh, fine. They said theyll get in touch.

And the garage?

Lucy hesitated, heartily. Booked in for next week. Theyve a long waiting list.

Lying, and not even embarrassed.

By the way, Lucy scanned her phone, could you have them Wednesday, too? Another interview lined up.

No.

The answer was calm, cool. Lucy stared.

What do you mean, no?

Just that. Im busy Wednesday.

But why? Youre home all day

I work from home. I have work and my own plans.

Lucys face clouded, then shifted as her lips trembled and her eyes glistened.

Emily, you must see how hard it is for me now. Alone, two children. I thought you and Tom would support me. Ive no one closer. You cant look after them for even a single day?

I have been supporting you, three weeks so far. But Im not a nursery or a childminder.

Whats wrong with you? Lucy snapped. Its not a big deal. Theyre your family!

Theyre not my family, Emily answered, to her own surprise, steadily. Theyre yours, Lucy. Your responsibility.

I stood in the doorway, catching the tail end of the conversation, my face darkening.

Whats happening here?

Lucy turned to me, her voice fragile.

Tom, your wife doesnt want to help. I ask for one dayshe refuses

She sniffed, pressing her hand to her chest.

You know the state Im in. I thought family would help obviously not.

She didnt finish, waved us away, and headed for her car. At the door, she turned.

You ought to be kinder, Emily. Kinder.

She sat stone-faced on the porch while we waited for her taxi. Then she bundled up the sleeping kids and left without a word.

Emily stood in the doorway, something unpleasant swirling inside herguilt, perhaps, or shame. Had she been too harsh?

I gazed after Lucys car, then turned to my wife.

Did you have to be like that?

What?

She was just asking. You couldve I stopped, going inside.

It was quiet all week. Then I came home and said, Lucy rang. Another interview. One last time, Em? Dont be so stubborn.

Weve already

Just this once, I promise. If shes late again, Ill sort it.

Emily looked at meworn out, torn between my sister and my wife.

All right. Last time.

The next morning, Lucy swept in, kissing the kids and hurrying out. Thanks-thanks, running late, someones waiting!

By lunch, Emily absentmindedly scrolled her phonechecking emails. A new post flashed up. Lucy. Her profile picture: Lucy at a café, wineglass in hand, arm around her shouldermans hand. Caption: Met up with school friends! Missed a taste of normal life.

Uploaded twenty minutes ago.

Emily stared at the post, realisation dawningno interviews, no doctors, no garages. Lucy was just dumping her children and relishing her freedom. And perhaps her ex wasnt such a villain after allmaybe he simply ran out of patience.

She rang me.

Come back and look after your niece and nephew.

What? Im at work.

Then ask your mother to fetch them. Im done.

What on earths happened?

Have a glance at your sisters profile. See where she is. Then well talk.

Pause, then a sigh.

All right. Ill try to leave early.

I turned up two hours later. Looked at the children, then at Emily.

I saw the photo, I said quietly.

Well?

Maybe it really was a reunion…

Tom, she turns up tipsy every time. Last time a man in a Range Rover brought her. Are you blind?

Theyre my nephew and niece, my voice rose. Theyve done nothing wrong.

And I have? These arent my children, Tom. Im not obliged to mind them. Help if you wantbut not at my expense.

Shes my sister!

And it was your sister who made this mess. Now she dumps her kids on us and goes out on the town.

What are you saying?

The truth. Every time you looked after her kids, she lied about doctors and interviews. Ive had enough. You?

I went quiet, rubbing my face.

Fine, I muttered at last. Youve made your point.

Lucy arrived late again. The kids were asleep on the sofa under a throw. She crept in, ready to protest about traffic and her dead phone but I cut her off.

Lucy, this ends now.

What does? she blinked.

Leaving the kids with us and vanishing all day. Were not your babysitters.

Lucy glanced at Emily. A flicker of understanding crossed her face.

Shes turned you against me?

No. I made this decision.

Lucy snorted, scooping up sleepy Oliver.

“I see how it is. Family, eh?”

She stomped out, not even a thank you, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled.

Next morning at breakfast, the phone rangmums name on the screen.

I picked up. Hello, Mum.

Emily could only hear Margarets sharp tone through the receiver.

Whats this? Cant help your own sister? You know Im not up to it

Mum, we cant either. We have our own lives.

Thats rich! Bought a house and lost all sense of duty, have you? I see how it is!

She hung up abruptly. I set the phone aside and looked at Emily.

Shes upset.

I gathered.

We sat in silence. The sun was shining, but on the windowsill, the tomato pot stood empty. Emily stared at it, thinking: we moved here for peace, for our own patch, our own life. Instead, weve become stuck with other peoples children, other peoples problems, and a family who think we owe them.

I placed my hand on hers.

Im sorry, I said. Shouldve put a stop to it earlier.

Emily didnt reply but squeezed my fingers. It didnt feel like a victory. My mum and Lucy would be cross, and a cold war would simmer for a long while. But for the first time in weeks, I felt something like relief. We said no. And we meant it.

The restwell, wed face that together.

The lesson for me was simple: boundaries, even in families, are essential. If you give up too much of yourself, soon theres nothing left for you or those closest to you.