Are You Planning to Say Something? – She Asked, Standing in My Kitchen

It all happened a year and a half ago, during a biting English winter, when my son was just five months old. My husbands brother had rung up, asking if he and his girlfriend might stay with us for a week. How could I possibly refuse? If Im perfectly honest, I wasnt thrilled at the prospect. Our baby had only just arrived I barely slept, nibbled whatever food I could manage, time simply slipped away, and relatives seemed to crowd in, never letting us be. Still, I thought to myself, perhaps theyd lend a hand, give me a chance to rest, or at the very least, provide a spot of company and a cuppa to share.

They arrived at our flat in Oxford empty-handed, despite intending to stay the week. Not even a rattle for the baby. I have always lived by the rule that you never turn up at someones door, especially when theres a little child, without a small token or gift. Thats simply how I was brought up but perhaps this was a different sort of situation.

They mentioned they had business in town, though never cared to elaborate.

I did my best to play the gracious hostess, cooking and cleaning, and I soon became quite well acquainted with them. On the surface, everything seemed fine, but throughout the days they stayed, not once did she offer to help not with the cooking or the tidying, nor even with the baby so I might get on with the housework.

Each morning, shed dart out, off to run errands, while her boyfriend lingered in bed until noon. My husband was off at work all day, leaving me bustling about the flat, tending to our son as well as scrubbing and mopping. Outside, the sleet and mud tracked in by everyone made housework ceaseless. Food had to be prepared, the little one fed and bathed, and the floor cleaned endlessly.

By the third day, Id had enough. I confided my frustrations to my husband, but he only shrugged, saying it wouldnt do for a man to meddle in womens quarrels. On the fourth day, my husband returned from the office and, with the guests, headed off to the cinema.

Left to myself, I quickly finished preparing tea, and soon after, the happy couple returned with bags of beer and an assortment of snacks but, predictably, nothing suitable for a nursing mother like myself. Not even a simple Victoria sponge.

The cheerful pair tucked into supper and then headed out again to catch a show, ringing my husband to urge him along. I felt slighted and so, afterwards, I took her aside and said:

Sorry, but perhaps you might offer a hand, just the once? I have a newborn, Im utterly exhausted. Maybe peel some potatoes for the soup, or at least suggest helping out.

She replied, Are you trying to punish me? I dont think thats fair! Im tired, too. (Tired, indeed tired from the settee, no doubt.)

But youre in my flat, dear. Im not your guest, you are mine.

Im not listening to any more of this!

Well then, perhaps its best you pack your things and leave!

So, they gathered their belongings and left that very evening. I wept bitterly with resentment for quite some time afterwards.

Even now, thinking back, I still wonder: was it right for them to behave like that?