You’re No Longer My Family

Mum, Ive brought Holly round, Tamaras voice echoed from the hall, snapping Nina out of her revision notes. Ill pick her up this evening; Im running late.

The front door slammed. Nina leaned back in her chair, massaging the bridge of her nose. A moment later her mum appeared, niece in arms. Three-year-old Holly blinked sleepily at the world.

Again? Nina asked.

Valerie just nodded, setting the girl down gently. Holly trotted straight over to the bed, scrambled up with the agility of a squirrel, and made a beeline for the bedside table. She fished out a battered colouring book and a box of crayons, installed herself cross-legged, and tucked straight in. Silent as a ritualbusiness as usual.

Nina stood up and followed her mother to the sitting room. Valerie was already rummaging in the cupboard for her work handbag, rifling through its contents.

Mum, Nina began, Im in my final year. My dissertations due in three months. I need to study, not
Tamara needs help, her mother cut in briskly. Her marriage was disastrous, you know that. Shes trying to get her life back on track. You, of all people, should understand.
She can get her life together all she likes! Nina hissed as quietly as she could, not wanting Holly to overhear. But why does her responsibility become my problem? Shes Hollys mumnot me!

Valerie finally looked up.
Enough. Im late for work, she said, zipping her bag with brisk, motherly efficiency. Holly is with you.

Nina wanted to argue; to declare it totally unfair, that she had an economics test in two days and her coursework was gathering dust. But a look at her mother told her itd be as useful as shouting at the rain. She simply nodded.

Valerie left, and Nina trudged back to her room. Holly was industriously colouring in a unicorn with a purple crayon, tongue poking out in deep concentration.

Auntie Nina, look! she said, holding up her masterpiece. Is it pretty?
Very pretty, sweetheart, Nina said, perched on the bed and shoving her notes to the far edge of the desk.

The day crawled by in thick treacle. They coloured, watched cartoons on Ninas laptop. Holly got hungry, so Nina made her pasta, unsuccessfully trying to finish a chapter with her textbook propped on the kitchen counter. The words jumbled uselessly. Holly spilled blackcurrant squash over the tablecloth. Then she got fractious, too tired to play, but not tired enough to sleep. Nina carried her round the flat, singing nonsense songs until Holly finally nodded off on her shoulder.

By evening, Nina felt wrung out like an old dishcloth. Her textbook still lay open, utterly untouched.

Tamara turned up around seven. Nina answered the door, Holly fast asleep in her arms.

Lets go, bunny, Tamara said, scooping up her daughter. Were off.

And away she flounced. Not a thank you. Not even a how was she?. Nina thought she might scream.

Two months passed on repeat. Holly would materialise in their flat, Tamara would vanish to sort things out, and Nina tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to juggle studying with involuntary babysitting. She managed to scrape through her dissertation, burning the midnight oil while Holly snored peacefully in the next room.

Then Tamara met Ian. Head over heels, all roses and candlelit meals. And three months later, there was Nina, standing in a registry office, watching her sister beam in white beside a broad-shouldered supermarket manager who gazed at her like a man on a perfume advert. Their mum dabbed at happy tears. Holly twirled underfoot in a sparkly pink dress. Nina clapped along, quietly hoping this would be the end of itsurely now Tamara would focus on her own family.

Soon after, Tamara had a boy. They called him Charlie. Nina visited the maternity unit with flowers and blue balloons, cradled a wriggling bundle, and dared to think her sister had finally settled. Ian played the part of smitten dad; Holly, now a Proper Big Sister, announced her status to anyone in earshot.

Eight months later, the whole fantasy collapsed.

Nina was at work, drowning in end-of-quarter reports, when Valerie rangbabbling and distraught. Ian had met someone else. Tamara had found the texts. Hysterics. Divorce papers.

Nina sat at her desk, phone pressed to her ear, rubbing her forehead. Déjà vu, only now there were two kids. Tamara was falling apart more than ever, dumping the children at their mums, vanishing for a breather, and sometimes not resurfacing until the next day.

Thats when the realisation seeped in: her own life no longer belonged to her.

Another year crawled by. Nina landed a promotion, barely had a moment to taste it before Tamara announcedmesmerised by the flute-playing AndrewRose Parade, fancy dinners, stories about how he was nothing like her exes. The third wedding was much more subdued, as though theyd all run out of confetti. Nina sipped her champagne and thought, God, this is only going to get worse.

Lunchtime, a few weeks after, Valerie rang while Nina prodded a wilted salad in the Pret opposite her office and mentally compiled a Tesco shopping list.

Nina, her mother blurtedher tone halfway between giddy and panickedare you sitting down?
Yep, sitting, Nina set down her fork. What is it?
Tamaras pregnant.

The silence at the table mingled with the aroma of burnt coffee and the thrum of chatter around her.

Twins, Valerie clarified mournfully. Identical.

Nina just stared at her salad. The rocket dissolved into a green blur. Four children. Tamara was going to have four children by three different men. And when (not ifbecause who are we kidding) this marriage ran aground, she and their mother would be left holding the babies. Literally.

Nina, are you there? Valeries voice sharpened.
Im here, Mum. Nina pinched her nose. Pass on my best.

She hung up before her mother could add anything else and sat motionless, staring at her darkening phone. Her appetite vanished completely.

That evening, Nina trudged home at eight, drained and empty. Valerie sat at the kitchen table, hands cupping a cold mug of tea; she started talking at once, words tumbling out like a broken tap.

Nina, Ive racked my brain, honestly, how does someone even end up like this? Twinsfour children! If it all falls apart againwell, you know what shes like. Shes more interested in men than her own kids, and then what? We wont cope, Im getting on, my blood pressures all over the place, and youre working all hourshow do you expect us to manage?

Nina hung up her bag and came over, but remained standing. She looked down at her mothers dishevelled hair, the greying roots, the tired, haunted eyes, the frantic way she gripped her mug.

Mum, said Nina, and Valerie paused mid-rant, I want to go. Move. Somewhere else.

Valerie froze, staring, as if Nina had switched to Lithuanian.

I cant do this anymore, Nina pressed on, exhausted. I cant keep putting my life on the shelf for Tamaras endless disasters. Ive given everything, Mummy time, my education, my relationships, my job. Im done.

Valerie made a noise of protest, but Nina held up a hand.

I want you to come with me. If you want out, well go together. Start over. If not, fine. But this cycle stops here. I love my nieces and nephews, but theyre not my children. Not my responsibility.

Nina exhaled, as if shaking off years worth of house bricks. Valerie just stared past her at the cracked tile behind her head. Whatever she was thinking, Nina had no clue.

Nina waited a minute, then went to her room, flopped down in her clothes, and stared at the ceiling, heart hammering, hands clammy. Shed finally said it. Out loud.

She only managed to doze off in the small hours.

When she woke, there was Valeries battered file of documents on the kitchen table. Nina recognised it; had held all the deeds from the house her gran left them, back when Nina was a teenager. She leafed through the papers, baffled as to why it had surfaced now.

Well sell, came a quiet voice from the door, making Nina jump.

Valerie stood there, pale with lack of sleep, but somehow steadier than usual, like someone clinging to a lifeboat.

Well give Tamara her legal third, she said, moving to the table. With the rest, well find something modest in another city. We dont need a palace.

Nina just stared. She wanted to check she hadnt misheard, but then she caught her mums eyes and saw exactly the same bone-deep exhaustion she felt herself. Valerie had just become an expert at hiding it. Or Nina had chosen not to notice.

Nina hugged her mother tight, eyes squeezed shut, face in her shoulder. Valerie stroked her hair, just like when she was little.

Well go, love, she whispered. Its time.

They pulled it off quietly, in under two months. Sold the flat, bought a little two-bed in a dull but friendly town about 250 miles away. Nina arranged a transfer to that branch of her firm. All the while, they told Tamara nothing.

They broke the news the day the last box was taped up and the train tickets were in the handbag. Tamara arrived within half an hour, bursting unannounced into the half-empty flat, seven months pregnant and radiating fury.

What the hell is going on? she bellowed, not bothering to take off her shoes. Youre abandoning me? Now? When Im about to have twins?!

Nina handed her the envelopeher share of the house. Tamara snatched it, peered inside, and her face crumpled in outrage.

What am I supposed to do with this? she shrieked, flinging it to the floor so the notes scattered over the lino. I need help, not handouts! Im going through a crisisdont you get that?
Youve been having a crisis for five years, Tamara, Nina replied. Were exhausted.

Exhausted?! Tamara gasped for breath. How about me? You think Im on holiday? Two kids already and now twins on the way?
You made your choices, Tamara, Nina said, not unkindly. Now its our turn.

Tamara looked to her mum for backup, but Valerie just zipped her suitcase and said nothing.

Youre not my family any more, Tamara hissed, snatching up the envelope, hands trembling. Neither of you.

She stormed out. Nina and her mum glanced at each other. Not a word passed between them. Nina slung her bag over her shoulder. Valerie picked up her suitcase. They left the flat, locked it one final time, and headed down the stairs.

Their train left in an hour. Nina sat at the window, watching the platform slide away, then the flickering streetlamps and dull terraces of the outskirts vanish into the darkening countryside. Valerie dozed beside her, head on her daughters shoulder, both spent by packing and that last brutal conversation.

The city melted into the distance, taking with it the endless squabbles, babysitting other peoples children, the weight of someone elses obligations and guilt. Nina leaned back at last, inhaled the first real breath shed taken in years. The future was wide open.

As the train whisked them away, Nina let her eyes drift shut, ready for whatever came next.