Caught Up in My Own Affairs, Yet Here You Are

Your lifes a mess, and now youre asking for more, I heard my sister Sarah sigh over the telephone, her voice tinged with the same pleading tone she always adopted when she needed money.

Sarah, Ive already helped you twice this month, I replied, weary. You still havent repaid the ten pounds you borrowed last time.

Its not just that, she retorted, I look after little Poppy, pick her up from nursery, drive her home. Doesnt that count for anything?

I walked to the window. A fine drizzle blurred the street, turning the pavement into a grey mirror.

Over the past two months youve sat with my daughter twice, I said calmly. Thats all. Ive spent so much on you that hiring a nanny would have been cheaper.

Dont be stingy, Natalie! Sarahs voice grew even more plaintive. Help me, will you? I promise to pay you back next week. Im in a bind.

I closed my eyes. The same song Id heard a month ago, and two months ago, played in my head. Sarah always knew which buttons to press, which wounds to rub.

Please, help, she pleaded again. Were family, after all!

I opened the banking app on my phone and transferred the requested amount. Ten pounds vanished from my account, just as they always had.

The moneys gone, I said flatly. But this is really the last time, Sarah. Its time you learned to stand on your own.

Thank you, darling! I love you so much! she exclaimed, then hung up.

I set the phone down and poured myself a fresh mug of tea. Steam rose, softening the edges of the kitchen. I settled into a chair, cradling the warm mug in my hands.

After we both left our home town of Nottingham for London to study and later to work, the bond between us began to fray. Sarah drifted from job to job every six months, a restless spirit. I, meanwhile, dreamed of a stable family life.

I had had a family, briefly. When Poppy was three, my husband left me for a younger colleague, leaving me with a toddler and a twentyyear mortgage. Now Poppy was five, attending nursery, while I scraped by on modest child support and a job at an advertising agency.

Sometimes I asked Sarah to watch Poppy, but lately her calls were nothing but new pleas for cash, each one wrapped in a tearstained story of hardship.

Two weeks passed with no word from Sarahno calls, no messagesjust the usual London bustle swallowing her. Of course, the money she owed was never returned.

I didnt call first. A sour ache lingered beneath my ribs, a dull pain that resurfaced each time I thought of her. Then, on a Wednesday, I was held up at work; a presentation ran over and a client nitpicked every detail.

I paced the office, glancing at the clock. Poppy would need to be collected from nursery soon, but I couldnt slip away.

Hello, Sarah? I gasped into the receiver. Could you pick Poppy up? Im stuck at work.

Loud music thumped in the background, laughter and chatter drifting from wherever Sarah wasclearly a club or bar.

Cant, Im busy, she snapped. Ive got my own things to do.

Sarah, you promised to help with Poppy! Ive given you money, and now you cant even manage that? I raised my voice.

Im busy, whats it to you? I have plans tonight! she snapped back, then the line clicked.

I stood alone in the empty office, unsure what to do. Taking time off now wasnt an option; Id just used a sick day when Poppy fell ill. I couldnt afford another excuse.

I frantically scrolled through contacts. My mother was still in Nottingham. Friends were either at work or busy with their own children. Then my eyes landed on Kirstena former sisterinlaw, the exwife of my exhusband.

My finger hovered over her name. We hadnt spoken in over a year, not since the divorce. Yet I had no choice.

Kirsten, hi, I said when she answered. Sorry to bother you. Im in a bit of a jam

She didnt hesitate. Ill take her! Same nursery, right?

Yes, I exhaled in relief. Thank you so much.

Dont mention it. Poppys my niece, after all.

Forty minutes later a photo arrived: smiling Poppy in the back seat of Kirstens car, giving a thumbsup. On our way home. All good, read the caption.

I finished the presentation in record time and rushed to Kirstens flata cosy twobedroom in a Scandinavianstyled interior of light wood, white walls and thriving houseplants.

Mum! Poppy squealed as she ran into the hallway, hugging my legs. Aunt Kirsten helped me make a pinecone hedgehog for nursery!

Come in, teas ready, Kirsten said, clearing away modelling clay and coloured paper.

As Poppy tinkered with her building blocks, the two of us sat at the kitchen table sipping tea.

How did you end up with no one to look after your girl? Kirsten asked gently.

I recounted the saga with Sarah, the bitterness and disappointment spilling out.

You know what, Kirsten mused, I work from home, flexible hours. If you ever need help again, just ring. Poppys still my niece and I love her.

I stared at her, astonished. After the divorce Id expected everyone linked to my former husband to turn away, yet here was unexpected support from a place I never imagined.

Thank you, I said sincerely. I really appreciate it.

We left for home as the street lamps flickered on. Poppy chattered all the way about her pinecone hedgehog and the coin tricks Aunt Kirsten had shown her.

From then on, Kirsten and I kept in touch, her calls frequent and her offers to watch Poppy on weekends generous. Let me look after her on Saturday, shed say. Well go to the puppet theatre and then have icecream. Youve earned a break.

A few weeks later Sarahs number flashed on my screen.

Natalie, listen, she blurted without preamble. I need cash, now. Somethings come up

I was lounging on the sofa, Poppy drawing princesses with coloured pencils.

Im sorry, thats it, I replied calmly. My charity work is over. No more money. You can keep the debt, but dont expect any more help.

What?! Sarah shrieked. Im the one looking after the girl! If you dont give me money I wont watch her at all!

You let me down when I truly needed you, I said evenly. And you know what? I havent asked you to look after Poppy for over a month, and I managed fine. I dont need your help, and I wont fund it.

Youve gone mad! she barked.

Thats it, goodbye, I said, hanging up and blocking her number.

Poppy looked up from her drawing. Mum, why was Aunt Sarah shouting?

Adults sometimes argue, love, I soothed. Its nothing to worry about.

My phone buzzed with a message from Kirsten: Lets meet at the new kids café this weekend. My friend recommended it. While Poppy plays, we can plan her birthday. Shes my only nieceIll make sure she gets a proper gift.

I typed back quickly, Brilliant! What time?

Watching Poppy colour another princess, I thought how oddly life could turn. The closest bonds sometimes form with those you never expect, while those you rely on most can abandon you at the worst moment. The important thing was that I would no longer tolerate being treated as a perpetual source of cash. I had a daughter, a job, and now genuine support from someone who asked for nothing in return. That, I realised, was enough for happiness.