Kicked My Rude Brother-in-Law Out from Our Anniversary Dinner Table After His Offensive Jokes

James, have you got out the good china? The set with the gold trim, not the everyday ones. And, please check the napkins I pressed them specially so theyll stand up like in a proper restaurant, said Helen, bustling about the kitchen and tucking a rogue strand behind her ear. The oven was already filling the house with the aroma of roast duck and apples, vegetables were simmering gently on the hob, and the fridge groaned with salads she’d chopped until midnight.

James, Helens husband, obediently clambered up to the loft.

Love, why bother with all this formality? Its only family coming. My brother Brian, Mum, and Aunt Val they wouldnt care if we served them out of dog bowls as long as we kept their glasses full, he grumbled, retrieving the box of bone china.

Stop moaning. Its our anniversary, a crystal one fifteen years. I want it to be special. Besides, you know what your brothers like. If I use plain plates, hell say were skint. If I use a cracked one, hell say were slobs. Lets give him a sparkling table for once, so he cant make any of his dreadful jokes.

James sighed, manoeuvring the box down from the loft. He knew she was right. His older brother, Brian, was, to put it kindly, difficult. And if Helen was speaking plainly, as she would with her friends, Brian was the classic boor he thought being rude made him a real bloke.

Just promise me not to take the bait today, pleaded James, wiping off a plate. Hes in a tough patch, what with losing his job and his wife walking out. Hes got a chip on his shoulder lately.

Helen tasted her sauce and snapped, James, his tough patch has lasted forty years. His wife left him because she had an ounce of self-preservation. Ill put up with him as long as good manners allow, but Im warning you: if he starts on about my figure or your wages again, Ill lose my cool.

The doorbell rang precisely at five. First came Jamess mum, Margaret, a gentle woman utterly devoted to her sons, particularly Brian, the hopeless one. Then it was Aunt Val and Uncle Colin. True to form, Brian rocked up forty minutes late, just as everyone else was sat at the table, eyeing the cooling starters.

He crashed in dramatically, trailing cheap cigarettes and icy air.

Here I am! Bet you didnt expect that! What, Jim, thought I didnt bring a present? Here you go!

He dumped a bundle, wrapped in old newspaper, into Jamess arms.

Whats this? James looked bewildered.

That, mate, is a set of screwdrivers from Poundland. Youll need them; since you can barely find the hammer half the time, Brian cackled.

Helen greeted him with a forced smile. Evening, Brian. Come on, wash your hands weve been waiting for you.

Brian gave her a once-over that made Helen want to shrink away.

Blimey, Helen! Why so dolled up? New dress? Looks like you wrapped yourself in Quality Street. Or is that just to distract from the wrinkles? Only kidding! Still a tasty number, though. Got a bit of meat on you.

James coughed awkwardly. Brian, mate, lets get you sat down. The ducks getting cold.

At the table, Brian took centre stage at once. He poured himself a brimming shot of vodka, not waiting for a toast, speared a piece of pickled herring, and launched in.

Well, happy anniversary, you two! Fifteen years, thats a stretch. How have you not throttled each other? My ex and I only lasted five, and I was near stringing myself up. Women bloodsuckers, all of them. Youre lucky, Jim, Helen can actually cook. Though He chewed and pulled a face. Bit salty, this. In love, are you, Helen? Or just trembling with age?

Margaret, sitting nearby, tried to placate, Dont be daft, Brian. Helens a brilliant cook. Try the tongue salad very delicate.

Tongue? Brian guffawed. Hope itll tame Helens own tongue. Seriously, Mum, stop defending her. Criticisms good for you. I always say it as it is thats why people respect me.

Helen, placing the hot food, could feel herself seethe. Glancing at James, she saw him staring at his plate, as if the pattern was endlessly fascinating. He was terrified of Brian, terrified of a scene, terrified of ruining their day.

Okay, breathe, Helen told herself, Just one evening. For James. For Mum.

So Brian, hows the job hunt going? she tried, changing tack gently. You had an interview last week, right?

Brian waved her off, already into his second vodka. Dont ask. Full of idiots. Turned up and some snotty lad of, what, twenty-five, starts grilling me about IT skills. Told him, Listen, mate, I was working when you still wet yourself. He goes, Youre not right for us. Yeah, whatever. Might start my own business if I get some cash together. Speaking of which, Jim, could you lend us fifty quid till the end of the month? My plumbings up the swanny.

Helen froze, salad bowl in hand.

Brian, you still havent paid back the last two hundred you borrowed half a year ago for the car, she said calmly.

Brian went puce and shot back, Oh, the accountants in! Watch out, Jim, shes keeping tabs on you. Step left or right shot at dawn. Im asking my brother, not you. Brothers settle things between themselves, unless youve gone completely hen-pecked and cant even help your own family?

James glanced wretchedly from Helen to Brian.

Brian, mate, moneys a bit tight just now. Weve just paid off the mortgage, and did up the place for tonight…

Oh, I can see that! Brian jabbed his fork at the table. Living it up! Red caviar, salmon, the works. Flogging yourself as posh, but tight with your own brother. Thats your real self, Helen. All squirrelled away for yourself, not caring if familys struggling.

Brian, eat your dinner, please, Margaret tried, offering a pastry. Helen made everything herself.

Oh, I know how well she works. Probably puts in even more effort for her boss, eh? Brian leered at James, a wink so revolting Helens own breath caught. I heard you got promoted, Helen? Deputy manager? What did you do for that, I wonder? Not just your pretty eyes, surely? Burning the midnight oil, eh?

A heavy silence fell. Even Aunt Val stopped chewing. Jamess face was mottled crimson.

What are you playing at? he asked quietly.

Im saying what everyones thinking but not saying! Thats me straight talking. You slog at the factory for nothing; your missus shoots up the ladder. Think she loves you? More likely lives with you out of pity. Or because youre handy. Fetch and carry, off you go. Look at yourself proper doormat!

Enough. Helens voice was startlingly steady, though her hands shook. She put the salad bowl down gently.

Oh, here comes the boss! Truth stings, does it? Always wondered what Jim saw in you. Miserable looks, sour face, nags like a drill. My ex was a piece of work, but she was a stunner. You? A plain Jane who thinks shes queen because shes got her fella wrapped.

Helen looked at James. She was waiting for him to snap, to slam his fist on the table, to throw his brother out. But James sat, shoulders hunched, gripping his fork so tightly his knuckles were white. He was frozen by the old, paralysing fear of his older brother, whod dominated him since boyhood.

Well then, thought Helen, If not you, I will.

She stood up slowly, smoothed her dress, and spoke, chillingly calm.

Get up and leave.

Brian choked on his laugh. What? Overheated in the kitchen, did you?

I said: get up and go. Now.

This is my brothers home, too! Brian squawked. Jim, dyou hear? Shes chucking me out! Your own brother! Say something!

James met her eyes her pale, determined face and realised if he kept quiet, if he didnt back her up, their marriage would shatter by morning.

Brian, James said, hoarsely, Go.

Brians jaw dropped. Hed expected tears, protests, a row not a united front.

You ganging up on me? Mum, look at this! Family, chucking me out over a joke!

That wasnt a joke, Brian. Helen stepped round the table and pointed at the door. You insulted me, humiliated your brother in our own home at our table. You eat my food, drink our wine, and pour abuse on us. I’ve put up with this for fifteen years to keep the family peace, but enough is enough. Out.

Fine! Brian jumped up, knocking over his glass. Red wine spread across the white tablecloth like a wound. Enjoy your posh dinner, you stuck-up snobs! Im never coming back!

I do hope not, Helen said coolly. And by the way, youre not getting a penny. Not now, not ever. Go earn it, entrepreneur.

Face darkening, Brian grabbed the half-finished bottle of vodka (Waste not, want not, clearly) and stormed out.

Jim, youll regret this! he shouted, already in the hall. Choosing her over your own flesh and blood! Hen-pecked muppet! The door slamming made the glasses in the cabinet tinkle.

A heavy, fuzzy hush descended. You could hear the clock ticking and Margarets shaky breathing. Jamess mum sat, hankie to her lips, tears brimming.

Helen, darling wasnt that a bit much? He didnt mean any harm He just gets carried away. Had too much to drink.

Helen turned to her, her resolve cracking ever so slightly, hands trembling again, but she steadied herself.

Margaret, Im sorry, but being carried away is when someone laughs too loudly. When someone humiliates a woman and calls his own brother useless thats just despicable. I wont let this house be a rubbish tip for his nastiness any more. Youre welcome to care for him thats your right as a mother but please, not here, not at my table.

Margaret sniffled but said nothing. Aunt Val, ever the pragmatic, clattered her fork and piped up.

You know what, Helen, this duck is heavenly! Just melts in your mouth. And you did right, standing up to him. Took guts. He stood on my feet at your wedding and never even said sorry about time someone put him in his place. Jim, top up my wine, would you? Im stressed!

That did the trick. James, shaking, grabbed the bottle, casting Helen a grateful, respectful look that shed not seen in years.

Im sorry, he whispered, topping up her glass. Should have done it myself.

Its all right, Helen squeezed his hand. We got there. And hes gone.

The rest of the evening suddenly felt warm and lovely. With Brian out, it was like the air cleared. People relaxed, started reminiscing, teasing each other kindly. Margaret sulked at first, then after a couple of glasses of homemade liqueur and a slice of Aunt Vals trifle, she thawed and even joined in the singalong.

Later, heaped in dirty dishes, Helen slumped at the table, eyeing the dark red stain marring the tablecloth.

Thats probably never coming out, she sighed. Mum gave me that as a present.

James wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Helen, forget the tablecloth. Ill buy you a new one. Ten new ones. You were incredible tonight. I thought what a fool Ive been, letting him ruin things for you all these years. I just got used to it. He was always louder, always older, always allowed to get away with it. Mum would say, Just let Brian have his way, hes complicated. So I let him.

I know, Jim. Its not easy breaking old habits. But were a family crystal, delicate but beautiful. Im not letting anyone smash that, least of all some prat with a Poundland screwdriver set.

They both laughed, letting the tension slip away.

Speaking of the screwdrivers, James rummaged for the package Brian had left behind. You know whats funny? Ive already got the same set. He gave me one three Christmases ago. Probably nicked it back and re-gifted it.

Shows consistency, I suppose, Helen smiled.

Next morning, Jamess phone rang endlessly. Brian. He stared at the screen, then at Helen, who was reading over coffee.

Arent you answering? she asked.

Nope. He can sleep it off. Maybe Ill never answer. I rather liked last nights peace and quiet.

Mumll worry, Helen said softly.

Mumll be fine. Good for her to see I’ve got a bit of backbone. Were a team, arent we?

We are, Helen grinned. The Quiet Duck Appreciation Society.

A week later, Helen heard from Margaret that Brian was telling anyone whod listen how his crazy sister-in-law booted him out for nothing and poor James cowered under the table. The relatives would gasp along but curiously enough, more of them started dropping hints about coming round to Helen and Jamess, and were noticeably polite when they did. Seems the households new reputation for zero-tolerance on rudeness was a better deterrent than installing a burglar alarm.

Oh, and the tablecloth? Helen got the wine out, old-fashioned way salt and boiling water. Same as with Brian, actually a bit of effort and a bit of sting, but everythings spotless in the end, and much happier for it.