Relatives Demanded My Bedroom for the Holidays and Left Empty-Handed: How I Refused Pushy Family, Set Boundaries, and Saved My Peace of Mind in London

Where on earth am I supposed to put this massive bowl of jellied beef? Theres no space at all in the fridge; its packed full of your bits and bobs what are they called carpaccio and avocado, honestly, I can hardly say the words, grumbled Aunt Margaret, struggling to squeeze her enamel dish onto the bottom shelf, nudging aside neat rows of plastic containers.

Olivia, standing at the cooker stirring a sauce for the main, drew a long, slow breath and silently counted to ten. This was only the beginning. The relatives had crossed the threshold just twenty minutes before, but already it felt as if a boisterous travelling fair had taken up residence, determined to re-organise her entire way of life in the capital.

Aunt Margaret, would you mind putting it out on the balcony? Its cold out there, and its all enclosed and clean. Nothing will happen to it, Olivia replied as gently as she could, trying not to raise her voice. Ive got prepped salad veg in the fridge, and they cant be frozen.

The balcony! scoffed Aunt Margaret, a large woman with a tight perm and a vast paisley housecoat shed brought specially, changing into it as soon as she arrived. The citys dust blowing in, and anyway, food shouldnt be left on the floor. Fine, Ill shift your jars of leaves out, nobodys eating those. Men want proper meat, not rabbit food.

Olivia shot a pleading look at her husband. Paul, tall and reserved, sat slicing bread at the kitchen table, trying to make himself invisible. He understood Aunt Margarets temperament well, and knew her daughter Olivias cousin, Laura was currently inspecting the bathroom, loudly critiquing the tiling.

Paul, could you help Aunt Margaret take the jellied beef onto the balcony, please? Olivia said with new firmness. Ive wiped down a special cupboard for it, no dust gets in there.

Paul promptly stood and lifted the heavy bowl from his protesting mother-in-law and disappeared down the hallway. Now unburdened, Margaret turned her attention to Olivia herself.

Why are you so pale, Olivia? On one of your diets again, no doubt. Skin and bones! Now, my Laura, rosy as a picture, shes a pleasure to look at. But youre wasting away. And your renovation, its all wrong looks like a hospital. Everything grey and white. Dull as ditch-water. Why not use some fancy wallpaper gold leaves and such, very elegant nowadays.

We prefer things simple and modern, Aunt Margaret, Olivia replied succinctly, tasting the sauce. Everyone has their own taste.

At that moment Laura swept into the kitchen. Three years older than Olivia but always spoke as if the gap was fifteen and she knew best in all things. Trailing behind her were her two boys, aged five and six, clutching sticky hands caked in chocolate.

Olivia, is it just a shower in your bathroom? Laura groaned, swinging herself onto a chair and crossing one leg over the other. I thought youd have a proper bath fitted. How am I meant to get the boys clean? Theyre used to a good soak.

Laura, we redid the place for ourselves. We like a shower. The boys can use it, theyre not babies anymore, Olivia answered, frustration prickling at her edges.

Olivia had planned for their visit weeks ago, but still hoped her relatives from up north might change their mind about spending Christmas in London. Aunt Margaret and Laura had angled for a festive trip to see family and soak up the London lights. Olivia, brought up with strong values of hospitality, couldnt refuse, not forgetting their last stay three years ago, after which shed spent a week cleaning and regaining her composure.

Back then theyd been in a cramped two-bedroom flat with battered lino. Now, finally, Olivia and Paul had their own spacious three-bedroom apartment in Islington, recently refurbished with a bespoke designer finish. Their pride and joy, every detail debated and hard-won.

Olivia was especially proud of their bedroom a sanctuary of calm, with deep navy walls, blackout curtains, a lush carpet and a mattress worth as much as a cheap car. She and Paul had agreed: no guests in the bedroom, doors kept shut. Visitors were expected to use the lounge, with its sofa bed, or in a pinch, Pauls study with a comfy daybed.

Mummy, Im thirsty, whined Lauras younger son, tugging his mums sleeve.

Go ask Aunt Liv for juice, Laura waved him off. Olivia, could you give them something to drink? Theyre all fidgety after the drive.

Olivia fetched a carton of apple juice from the fridge and poured out two glasses.

Careful, dont spill on the floor. Weve got real wood here, she cautioned.

Oh, dont fuss about your floor, snorted Aunt Margaret. Things are for people, not people for their things. Kidsll be kids. If they drip, just mop it up! Youre ever so jumpy lately, Olivia, all high and mighty with your London ways.

Paul reappeared from the balcony, sensing the tension, and suggested:

Shall we think about sitting down for dinner soon? Its five already almost time to send off the Old Year.

The meal started in chaos. The boys darted about, snatching bites of sausage and cheese. Laura was on the phone to her friend, narrating their journey, while Aunt Margaret critiqued every dish.

Prawn cocktail salad? she poked at it, examining a prawn as though it might bite her. I dont understand it. Proper food is pickled herring layered with mayo. This is just nonsense all leaves and rubber. Olivia, you ought to boil some plain potatoes with parsley, you know. This mash with truffle oil smells odd, like its off.

Its a delicacy, mum, Laura replied, barely glancing up. Though I do fancy something simple. Olivia, pass the mushrooms. Homemade or shop-bought?

From a local farm shop, said Olivia.

Just as I thought. Easier than pickling your own, Margaret declared. I brought a jar of mine, youll taste real mushrooms now.

Olivia chewed silently, staring at her plate. Beneath the table, Paul squeezed her hand. Three days, just three days, his eyes promised.

By eight oclock, after the first bottle of prosecco and with the boys finally quiet on their tablets, talk turned to sleeping arrangements.

My backs killing me from the journey, Margaret moaned, rubbing at her hips. That train shuddered the whole way, I need to stretch out.

Yes, mum, you really should rest, agreed Laura. Olivia, where have you put us?

Olivia braced herself. Shed prepared this point carefully.

The lounge sofa pulls out its very wide, two adults easily fit. Laura and the boys can have the daybed in the study; it folds out big enough for you all. And if you need more space, weve got a high air mattress for the living room really comfortable.

Silence fell. Margaret ceased chewing; Laura raised her brow.

Are you joking? Margaret stared as if Olivia had lost her mind. Olivia, I cant sleep on a sofa bed! Ive got a slipped disc! I need a proper bed soft, straight.

Its an orthopaedic sofa, Aunt Margaret, we got it for guests, its firm with no joins, Olivia started.

A sofa is still a sofa! Margaret interrupted. Thats fine for young people. I thought youd offer us your bedroom. Ive heard youve got a miraculous mattress.

Olivia froze. Shed expected grumbling, even demands, but a direct push for their private space no.

The bedroom? Paul frowned. Margaret, thats our room; where we sleep.

So? Laura replied, unbothered. Youre young and fit. One or two nights on the sofa or floor wont kill you. Mum needs to be comfortable. And Id prefer to be with her easier with the boys; the bedroom door shuts, they wont disturb you in the night.

Hold on, Olivia felt her cheeks flush. You want us to move out of our own bedroom, give you our bed and just sleep in the living room?

Why make such a drama? Margaret exclaimed. Its not giving up its just for the holidays. Family always gets the best. My mother told me that. You city folk forget tradition.

Aunt Margaret, traditions mean feeding and looking after guests, Olivia said firmly. But a bed is as personal as a toothbrush. Its for us. We cant let you have the bedroom. Sorry, its a strict rule.

Laura slammed her glass down, making it ring.

Olivia, youre serious? You begrudge your own aunt and cousins your bed? We drove 200 miles, brought gifts, and you offer us the sofa like dogs?

Dogs? Paul blinked. Thats a top-end sofa bed, extremely comfortable. I nap on it myself watching the match.

Dont talk money at me! Margaret screeched. Its not the cost, its respect! Your poor mother would be ashamed if she saw you, turning your back on your family. Youre just like your father!

Dragging Olivias mum into it was a low blow. Her mum had always given in, let Margaret take advantage, handing over her last ten pounds and babysitting for free. Olivia remembered it well Aunt Margaret taking the best, slating everything, and leaving chaos behind.

Dont speak about my mum, Olivia said, her voice dangerously quiet. She put up with you for years. I am not her. I know my boundaries. The bedroom is not up for discussion. If anyones unhappy with the sofa, theres a hotel round the corner; Im happy to help book.

Hotel?! Laura spluttered. Youre kicking us out? Making us pay for a room? Mum, did you hear?

I heard, darling, Margaret clutched at her heart in mock agony. Oh, my blood pressure! Water, quickly!

Laura hurried a glass of water and tablets to her. The boys, sensing drama, went quiet and gawked.

Fine, Laura announced, once Margaret revived. Either we stay in the bedroom, or were out tonight. Well tell everyone how far youve fallen, Olivia. The choice is yours.

Olivia looked at Paul. His face was set but supportive. He too was done tired of their nerve and the way they treated their home like a hostel.

Thats not much of a choice, Laura, Olivia answered quietly, standing up. I offer you good food and a comfortable stay, but you demand my bed and issue ultimatums. If your stay depends on my mattress, not your family, then maybe were better off apart.

So be it! Margaret leapt up, miraculously forgetting her sore back. Get your coat, Laura! Boys, fetch your shoes! Well not spend another minute in this place. Better to sleep at the station than here!

Mum, where are we meant to go? There are no trains now! Laura faltered, her bluff called. Shed banked on Olivia giving in.

Well call a taxi! Well go to Christines, the other side of London. She might live in a council flat, but shes a good soul, would give you her last penny! You two can choke on your truffles!

There was pandemonium. Laura glared at Olivia as she shoved their things back into bags. Margaret wailed as she stomped through the flat, moaning to imaginary listeners about her dreadful lot.

And our presents! Margaret demanded, pausing at the hall. I brought you a set of linen towels! You dont deserve them. Ill gift them to Christine instead.

Olivia fetched the scratchy towels from the spare room (shed no intention of using them anyway) and handed over the bag.

Here you are. And dont forget your mushrooms.

Well take them, Laura snapped, snatching the package. And the childrens chocolates, too well have those back!

Paul watched the commotion in silence, embarrassed for all involved.

Packing took fifteen minutes. Margaret didnt stop muttering curses the whole time, dragging in grievances from decades past and predicting Olivia and Paul would die alone, nobody even to bring them a drink of water.

Have you got a taxi? Paul asked, as the guests struggled into their shoes.

We dont need your charity! Well book one ourselves! Laura snapped, jabbing her phone. Come on, mum; the car will be outside in five. Lets wait in the fresh air theres no breathing in here for all the malice.

They left in a flurry, Margaret slamming the new front door so hard that plaster rattled from the ceiling.

Silence spread through the flat. Only the hum of the fridge and the grandfather clock in the lounge broke it. On the table lay abandoned prawn salad, scattered napkins and sticky juice stains.

Olivia sank onto a chair and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook.

Paul placed an arm around her, planting a kiss on her head.

Shhh, Olivia. Its done, theyve gone.

Olivia looked up. Her cheeks were dry she was laughing. Nervous, relieved laughter.

Paul, did you hear them? Better at the train station than with you! What a miracle!

It is, Paul grinned. And, you know, they left the jellied beef on the balcony!

Olivia burst out laughing.

The jellied beef! Their prized possession! And Christines in a tiny flat with her drunk husband. I cant imagine her joy at hosting a crowd tonight.

Not our problem, Paul said philosophically, pouring the last of the prosecco. I nearly threw them out myself when she mentioned your mum. Im proud of you. You spoke up.

I just love our bedroom so much, Olivia admitted, sipping his drink. And you. And our peace. I think this might be our best New Year ever just us, food for an army and nobody nagging about salad.

They cleared away the extra place settings. Olivia scraped the plates, Paul loaded the dishwasher. The air felt fresher, freed from heavy resentment.

Olivia went to the window. Outside, thick snow was falling, hiding the tracks of the departing taxi. The city glittered with festive lights. Somewhere in that frosty night, her relatives sped off, hauling their bitterness behind them. She almost pitied them. Carrying such weight in your heart must be exhausting far worse than sleeping on a sofa.

Paul, she called. Shall we put some music on? Light the candles? Its still New Years Eve.

Absolutely, he answered from the kitchen. And the roasts almost done the duck they never touched.

An hour later, they sat at a newly laid table. Candles glowed, jazz played softly. The duck, roasted with apples, was fragrant and golden.

To us, Paul toasted. To our home. And to always welcoming those who treat us with respect.

And boundaries, Olivia added, clinking glasses. Which weve learned to protect.

Much later, deep in the night, Olivia lay in her beloved bed on the controversial mattress, wrapped in bliss. Silence folded around them, the linen fresh and lavender-scented, undisturbed by other people’s perfume. She thought, perhaps her relatives were cramped on Christines floor or stuck at the station, cursing snobbish Olivia. But she felt no guilt.

Shed learned something important: you cant please everyone, not at your own expense. And if familys resentment is the price of peace, thats a fair price.

The next morning, Olivias phone buzzed with messages from extended family, whod already heard a twisted version that shed thrown her ailing aunt out into the London cold, barefoot. Olivia didnt read a single one, nor did she reply. She switched to airplane mode, stretched out in bed and smiled at the new day.

And as for that jellied beef, she and Paul fed it to the neighbourhood dogs. The dogs were grateful and didnt gripe about the garlic or the texture. Unlike some people, animals know how to appreciate kindness.