My Husband’s Sister Asked Me to Watch My Nephews—Then Disappeared for Three Days

My dearest Emily, you lovely, clever girl! Please, Im absolutely desperatewhatever shall I do? Theres simply no one else. Mums up in the Cotswolds, blood pressure all over the place, I cant worry her, and youre the only sister-in-law I trust! My absolute favourite! Sarahs words tumbled out in one rapid stream, mashed together with phrases like urgent matter, just till evening and help me, as if her mouth had been set to fast-forward.

Emily, standing in the doorway of her small London flat, a duster in one hand and the other desperately clutching at the lead of Bonnie, the worlds most opinionated dachshund, braced herself as Sarah appeareda one-woman tornado, flanked by her sons: seven-year-old Daniel and four-year-old Harry. The boys had already managed to grind half the park into the hallway rug and were now poking at the wallpaper with the enthusiasm of budding archaeologists.

Sarah, hang on a minute, Emily tried to squeeze a sentence into her sister-in-laws monologue. What do you mean, just till evening? Its Friday! James and I were planning to drive down to Sussex after workfinally booked that spa weekend weve been talking about for months.

Sarah clutched her bag to her chest, nearly whacking Daniel over the head with it, and widened her eyes melodramatically, the Emmy award practically within reach.

Oh, you dont need a spayoung, healthy things like you, plenty of weekends left! I, on the other hand, have to grab an opportunity while I can. Dream job interviewamazing hours, salary thatll knock your socks off. If I dont go now, Ill miss the train! I just want to give the boys a proper future! She sniffed, eyes growing even wetter. And you knowbeing a single mum, child maintenance barely pays for a sandwich.

Her damsel in distress act was a thing to beholdand Sarah had, through years of practice, honed it to sharpened perfection.

At that moment, James, Emilys husband, emerged from the kitchen mid-sandwich and froze at the sight of his sister and nephews.

Sar? What are you doing here? Were leaving in an hour.

Jamesy! Oh, my wonderful brother! Sarah practically rugby-tackled him. Please, I just need to leave the boys here overnight, Ill be back before lunch, honest. Theyll be so good, you wont even notice theyre about. Pop the telly on, hand them some biscuitsitll be like theyre not even here.

James shot Emily the tragic look of a man torn between love for his sister and terror of his wifes fury. He was a straight-up softie, which Sarah knew and shamelessly exploited.

Em, maybe we can postpone the weekend? he tried. Sarahs got that interviewit does sound important.

Our bookings non-refundable, Emily replied, voice firm but controlled steel. And Im shattered after this week.

Ill pay you back, first thing, Sarah interjected enthusiastically. Cover the spa, buy you a takeaway, whatever! It really is life or death. What should I do with them, bring them to my interview? Drop them off at social care?

Just then Harry sneezed explosively and wiped his nose down his sleeve, while Daniel slipped into the lounge and cranked up the TVs volume to jet-engine levels.

Fine, Emily said at last, her patience officially straining at the seams. Until lunchtime. Two oclock, absolute latest. If youre late, well take them up to your mums place in Bourton-on-the-Water, hypertension or notIm not bothered.

You absolute angel! Sarah smacked a lipstick-y kiss on Emilys cheek, dumped the childrens coats, thrust a carrier bag at James, and flounced out the door, throwing back Love you! over her shoulder.

The flat was left in a wave of silence punctuated only by inane TV adverts.

Well, James offered sheepishly, thats the weekend sorted, then.

Itll be fine, Emily replied, carefully stepping round a muddy trainer-print on the hallway tiles. All we need is twenty-four hours. So long as they dont demolish the place.

The first few hours passed quite peacefully, with the boys glued to the massive telly and a suspiciously sticky bowl of chocolates. Emily unpacked Sarahs bag: two spare sets of underpants, one pair of tights for both to share, a cracked iPad, and a family-sized bag of discount crisps. There were no pyjamas, no toothbrushesno attempt at nutritional snacks.

Shes not even packed them pyjamas, Emily muttered, digging through the bag. Or a single toothbrush.

Ill nip to the shop, James said at once. Get some cereal and milkthey have to eat something tomorrow.

Any hope of an easy night crumbled as Harry, fueled by sugar and cartoon energy, promptly refused dinner.

Dont want soup! he bellowed, smearing mashed potato across the table. Want chicken dippers! Mummy always gets chicken dippers!

We dont have dippers, Emily said, keeping her cool intact by the thinnest of threads, but weve got homemade patties. Try that.

Yuck! Harrys plate hit the floor.

Bonnie the dachshund dove for the dropped dinner. Daniel, not wanting to be left behind, pushed his own dinner away with a sniff.

Im not eating that either. Uncle James, just order pizza.

Daniel, pizzas not healthy. Eat what Auntie Emily cooked, James attempted, channelling earnest teacher vibes.

Mum says cookings for losers, replied Daniel, seven years going on seventy, that its quicker to order in.

Emily and James exchanged anguish-laced glances. This was going to be a long night.

After wrangling the boys into makeshift pyjamas (aka Jamess old football shirts) and tucking them, finally, onto the pull-out sofa, the adults collapsed into their own bed well past midnight.

Shell be back by two, Emily repeated like a prayer. Then well sneak out to the cinema at least.

Course, James told her, pulling her close. Sorry, love. Shes got a good heartjust a bit of a mess.

Morning broke, as only it can on a Saturday, with a crash from the kitchen. Daniel had decided to investigate the cupboard contents by pulling down a bag of quinoa. It rolled out across the floor like an edible beach.

It was an accident, he muttered, as a bleary Emily entered.

No worries, she managed, clutching her patience. Grab the dustpan, youre helping.

I dont know how to, Daniel protested. Mum or Gran do all the cleaning. Men dont do housework.

By two oclock, the flat resembled a warzone. With nothing to play with but their imaginations, the boys had built fortresses from cushions, chopped up Emilys magazines, and chased the cat under the wardrobe (the cat remained wisely hidden).

Lunch was ready. Bags were packed. Emily kept checking the clock.

2:00 pm. Nothing.

2:30 pm. Still nothing.

Call her, Emily told James, crisp and calm.

He rang. Long ringtone, then the polite mechanical lady: The number you have called is not available.

Maybe shes on the train, no signal? James said half-heartedly.

Who has an interview on a Saturday, James? Emily folded her arms. Do you even believe any of this?

They waited all evening. Sarahs phone was off. Harry started to sniffle, asking for Mummy. Daniel got stroppy, demanding the iPad charger Sarah had not provided.

Shes not coming tonight, Emily stated, staring out the window into the twilight. This is honestly beyond rude.

Em, maybe her phone died, or the bus broke down? James was more hopeful than convincinghe looked sick with worry.

That night was chaos. Harry wet the sofa, necessitating a midnight linen change and frantic scrubbing. Daniel insisted the hallway light be left onthe monsters were out.

Sunday dawned, and Sarahs phone was still infuriatingly silent.

Im calling your mum, Emily declared over cornflakes.

Dont! James yelped. Mums just had a turnif she thinks Sarahs disappeared, she might have another. Lets wait till tonight. Shed never just ditch them entirely

James, were back at work tomorrow. Whos looking after them? You?

Ill call in for a day off. Promise.

Things, as they are wont to do, devolved further. Harry, dashing around the flat, took out a large vasea wedding gift from Emilys parents. It shattered. The crash was biblical.

Not my fault! Daniel accused instantly. It was Harry!

Emily silently swept up the remains. She didnt have energy left for tearsjust simmering anger. She tidied up, found James lurking in the spare room, and delivered her verdict:

If theres no sign of Sarah come morning, Im reporting this. Abandoning the kids, endangering themlet social services deal with it.

What? You cant! Shes my sister! James jumped up. You wouldnt really send them to foster care, would you?

I just want your sister to face up to her responsibilities! Emily shouted. We didnt sign up for this. We have a life, James! Why does she get to throw her chaos into our living room every time she fancies a break?

Shes just working

Oh really? Here, look!

Emily pulled up her phone. Sarahs account was locked, but Emily had mutuals. Up popped a beaming Sarah, sun-baked and drink in hand, pool-side at a swanky country spaposted three hours ago, with the caption: Finally, a break! Girls weekendwe earned it!

James stared, mortified.

That must be an old photo? He tried, failing to sound convinced.

Check the date, James. And thats the new bikini she bought last week. Emilys tone was nuclear winter. She lied. She didnt have an interview; she had cocktails.

James collapsed onto the bed, head in hands.

What do we do now?

Ill tell you what Ill do. Tomorrow, those boys are coming with me to the office. Ill park them in the meeting room. You can ring your mum and explain. But I am done. D.O.N.E.

Monday morning, Harry woke with a temp of 101. Emily spent the night dosed up on Calpol and sleep-deprivation, swapping wet cloths on his forehead and letting James pace holes in the rug.

At 7 am her phone pinged. Sarah is back online. Now, a signal.

James grabbed his phone and dialled.

Sarah? WHERE have you been? he roared. Daniel woke next door.

Oh, God, calm down, its early, James Sarahs voice oozed sleep and the faint regret of too many proseccos. The interview dragged on, ended up staying extra night, you know how it goes. Big deal.

What interviewAT A SPA HOTEL? We saw your photos! Meanwhile, Harrys burning up and you didnt even leave Calpol!

A silence as frosty as a January morning.

Are you spying on me now? Allowed a private life, arent I? Maybe I met someone nice! Whats wrong with Harrywhat have you been feeding him? I left them healthy! Anything happens, dont think I wont sue!

Get here. Now. Or were contacting social services, James said, suddenly discovering a backbone.

Fine, fine! Drama queens, the lot of you!

Sarah arrived three hours later, freshly tanned and perfumed to the nines, looking more St. Tropez than stressful interview. She swept into the flat with the energy of someone whod just spent a weekend meditating in a sound bath, not abandoning her kids in SW17.

My poor darling! she cooed over Harry. What have they done to you, eh? Starved you, let you freeze? She glared pure daggers at Emily. Clearly, some people arent cut out for parenthoodthey wouldnt know compassion if it hit them in the face!

That dart found its markthree years, no luck, a host of medical tests. Sarah knew exactly what shed done.

Out, Emily said, voice nearly inaudible.

What? Sarah blinked.

Get out. Take your boys and leave my home. Dont come back.

Oh, Im going, dont you worry! Sarah tartly began gathering scattered belongings. Come on, boys, lets go somewhere nice, buy some actual food

You owe us, James said, blocking the hall. Fifty for the vase, thirty for groceries, a tenner for Harrys medicine. Ninety quid total. And emotional damages? You get a free pass, but pay up.

Youre joking! Your own sister? Sarah gaped in outrage. Ive got nothing until payday!

You had money for cocktails at the spa. So cough up, or Ill ring Mum and give her the full rundown, with poolside photos. Shell love to hear about your job-hunting skills.

Sarah glared, transferred the money on her phone, and hissed, Dont expect to see us again! Never get help from you two!

She bundled Harry under one arm, motioned Daniel out, and slammed the front door so hard the post rattled.

Emily slumped onto the sofa, surrounded by muddy trainers, crumpled crisp packets, and an unidentifiable patch of something on the wall. James joined her, took her hand.

Im sorry, he said dully. I really am.

Youre not an idiot, Emily said softly, just a brother. But now you know what her favours cost.

I do. I promise, never again.

They sat in silence before quietly, efficiently, restoring the flat. As the mess disappeared, so did the tension of three lunatic days.

That evening, the phone rang. Caller ID: Mum-in-law, Elizabeth Green.

Emily, dear, her voice was frail. Sarah called. She was crying. Said you threw her out, refused the boys, demanded money Surely you wouldnt act like thatfamily ought to help, after all

Emily drew a deep breath. Once, shed have fallen over herself to excuse everything. But the weekend had stiffened her spine.

Mrs Green, Sarah didnt tell you everything. Ask her which hotel hosted her interviewthe one with the mojitos by the pool. Or better, pop over next week, well show you Daniels new philosophy about men and cleaning. Its educational.

A long silence.

Oh, Emily I get it. My fault, spoiling her. Dont you hold a grudge.

We dont, Mrs Green. Weve just learned our lesson.

Emily hung up.

James, she said with a sudden smile, how do you fancy a monster, unhealthy pizza and a glass of wine? Weve bloody earned it.

What about the spa?

Next weekend. Phones off. Absolutely off.

They kept their word. And when Sarah tried to ring James the following week, he pressed silent and flipped his phone, face down. Lesson learnedfamily is great, but only at the proper, respectful distance (i.e., at least a postcode away).

If youve made it this far, buy yourself a pizza too. You deserve it.