I still hear the echo of that endless evening, the one that seemed to belong to a bygone London, when I, Emily Turner, tried to keep the peace in a house that had become a sort of informal nursery. My husband, Ian, would come home weary from the office, yearning for a quiet supper and a bit of peace with me, only to find himself forced to share the couch with the baby of his sisterinlaw.
Claire Whitmore, my sisterinlaw, shuffled in with a sigh. Its not really my child, she muttered, eyes downcast. She asked me to look after little Tom, the boy, because she needs to get her nails done. You cant really go to a salon with a baby in tow, can you?
Ian shrugged off his jacket, flinging it onto the nearest chair. He knew the only decent way to feed his nephew was in something comfortable, not in a shirt stained with baby puree. The odds of staying spotless were, frankly, fiftyfifty.
I get it, love, I said, stirring the pot, but you cant give up on your nails just because hes here. Are you the only one looking after him? Why does our home feel like a crèche?
Mothers still around, I tried to add, reaching for a packet of spaghetti. But she cant be on duty every day
I can, Ian cut in, a hint of irritation in his voice. I can look after everyone except you and me.
He grimaced at first, then let out a weary sigh and softened. He knew I wasnt his enemy; I was simply reliable, perhaps to a fault.
Emily, he warned, if you dont take the weight off your shoulders, youll be the one blamed when it all collapses. The one who keeps driving the carriage, so to speak.
I pretended to be absorbed in the dinner, though inside I knew he was right. I didnt want to be a second mother to Tom, nor did I want a row with the family.
It had all begun innocently enough.
Emily, Im feeling poorly and Toms with me, Claire had once pleaded over the phone. I need to pop to the chemist, but I cant leave him alone. Could you help?
Without a second thought I dropped everything, not even considering a delivery service. My sister was ill, perhaps gravely, and I felt compelled to rescue the situation.
Soon, rescuing became a habit.
Whenever the phone rang with a request from Clairepick up a parcel, collect groceries, fetch a deliveryI was on the move as if I were her personal courier.
I could afford to be so flexible because I worked from home on a freelance schedule. That didnt mean it was convenient. Claires flat was a fifteenminute walk away; add the roundtrip, the queuing, the waiting, and it easily swallowed an hour.
My work shifted to evenings and sometimes nights when the house was quiet. Ian, of course, wasnt thrilled, and neither was I. I tried to speak to Claire about it.
Claire, what about Peter? Doesnt he help at all? I asked, handing her another parcel from the courier.
He does, but hes exhausted after his shift. Hell watch the child while I dash to the shower, then the rest is on me, she replied promptly.
She protected her own husband, but she never mentioned anyone else. I frowned, feeling the sting of her indifference.
And his mother? Isnt she living nearby? I pressed.
Dont even mention her! Claire rolled her eyes. I dont want anything to do with that old frog. When she shows up, its a headache all day long. Better to starve than to ask her for anything.
I tried to suggest a joint effort. Lucys baby is about the same age as Toms. Maybe you could watch each others kids, or ask Sarahshes not working anyway.
It feels wrong to lean on other people, Claire admitted. Theyre not obligated.
Its easier to lean on your own, I thought, sighing.
From that moment I resolved to say no, even if Ian didnt give me a nudge. The opportunity came quickly. The next day Claire called, claiming she had an appointment at the hairdresser.
Emily, come over and mind Tom for an hour. Ill be gone just a while, she demanded, her tone more command than request.
Her insistence offended me. Why should I rearrange my entire day for her beauty treatment?
No, Claire, I cant today. Im sorry, I replied.
What do you mean you cant? she snapped.
I cant solve every one of your problems. I have a life of my own, I said.
I understand, but what am I supposed to do? I have no one else. Ive already booked, I cant let the stylist down. Shell never take me back, she whined.
Thats not my job, Claire. Im not a errand girl or a mother figure. Sort it out yourself, I urged.
She huffed, Its easy for you to say, you have no children. You dont know how hard it is.
She knew, of course, because little Tom was slowly becoming my son in all but name. I kept silent; avoiding conflict was my nature, and even this refusal felt like a small triumph.
Claire, however, enlisted our mother.
Emily, how can you be so cold to your own sister with a baby? our mother chided. Shes alone; who will help her if not us?
Mother, when she asked me for medicine I went because she was ill. But now she calls every other day for trivial thingstoday she even wants a manicure. Is that truly urgent? I replied.
Shes a woman; she wants to look nice. Put yourself in her shoes, Mother urged.
I raised an eyebrow. No one had ever tried to see things from my side.
Mother, if youre so wise, why not step in and help? Claire implored.
I? I can barely get around on my feet! Youre young; its easier for you, Mother quipped.
The barbsyoung, childless, still at homehad become a chorus Id grown tired of hearing. That day I finally drew a line and refused to assist.
In retaliation they gave me the silent treatment. For a whole week both Mother and Claire acted as if I didnt exist. Anyone else might have taken it in stride, but I felt adrift, unsure how to mend the family rift.
When a week later Claire called again, begging me to watch Tom while she got her nails, I gave in. I hated myself for it, but I slipped back into the unpaid nanny role. It seemed there were only two options: become an outcast in my own family or endure.
Emily, youre too soft, then you swing the other way, Ian warned after hearing the whole thing. Be careful, or youll never break free.
I sighed and nodded, staying up late that night wrestling with how to refuse without incurring her wrath.
It wasnt long before the phone rang at a predictable hour.
Emily, I cant cope any longer. The little one has a fever, hes wailing from dawn, and Im running around like a hamster! I cant even get a moment to sit down. Come over, even if it means three of us handling him together, Claire pleaded.
I cant. I have work. Were under strict monitoring software nowno breaks, no lunch away from the desk. Its like an office, I lied.
A tense pause filled the line. Claire seemed to be looking for a crack to press.
Please, just this once, the last time. Ask someone to cover for you, or take a day off, she begged.
She didnt understand that I had no real choice. I pretended to concede.
Alright Ill think of something, I said, then hung up.
I messaged Peter, asking for his mothers number, explaining that his wife needed help. Peter didnt refuse, and the mother agreed to pop over to Claires flat. I could even tell when she arrived because Claires texts started flooding in.
Whats wrong with you? Youve set her on me! Claire typed furiously.
I just asked for the help you needed, I replied calmly. I cant be there myself, you know that.
She read the messages but said nothing. In that moment I felt a small victory. It wasnt a war, but in that tiny battle I had won. Claire would be annoyed, Mother would probably grumble again, but now the sister would have to manage on her own or learn to rely on those who truly wanted to help.
