Many years ago, in a quiet corner of Yorkshire, a moment came that would change a family forever. «You’ll be cooking for my sister’s household as well,» Thomas declared with an air of authoritywords he would soon wish he could take back.
Eleanor stood by the window, watching as an overstuffed van pulled into the drive. Her chest tightened with dreadshe knew what this meant. For three days, Thomas had moved about their cottage with a guilty look, clearly working up to something serious.
«Ellie,» he had begun cautiously the previous evening, «remember I mentioned Emily’s trouble with the landlord?»
Eleanor remembered. His sister had rented a modest two-bedroom terrace on the outskirts of Leeds for years, sharing it with her husband, William, and their two childrenten-year-old Oliver and six-year-old Charlotte. The arrangement had been fine, the landlord reasonable, until the man’s daughter announced her wedding and needed the property. The tenants had to go.
«They’ve asked to stay with us for a while,» Thomas continued, avoiding her eyes. «Just until they find somewhere suitable.»
Eleanor nodded silently. What could she say? Emily was his only sister; they were close. Family didnt turn family away, especially not with children involved.
«How long?» was all she asked.
«A fortnight, three weeks at most,» Thomas said quickly. «Theyre searching diligently. Williams even hired an estate agent.»
Now, watching suitcases, toy bins, and a pet carrier being unloaded, Eleanor understood those weeks might stretch indefinitely.
The children bounded in firstOliver with a football under his arm, Charlotte clutching a ragged stuffed rabbit and chattering excitedly. The adults followedEmily with their tabby cat, William hauling bags, Thomas with a stack of boxes.
«Ellie!» Emily exclaimed, crossing the threshold. «Thank you so much for having us. Well be out of your hair soon, I promise.»
Eleanor hugged her sister-in-law, genuinely sympathetic. Emily had always been kind but somewhat helplessmarried young, devoted to her children, her world small and domestic. She worked from home as a freelance illustrator, but William handled most decisions.
«Mum, where will we sleep?» Charlotte asked immediately, glancing around.
Their cottage was snuga master bedroom, a small sitting room with a sofa and armchair, a galley kitchen, and a separate loo. Perfect for two; cramped for six.
«Well take the sitting room sofa,» Emily said quickly. «The children can share the floor with blankets. Or perhaps the front room?»
«Theres already a daybed in there,» Thomas noted. «Theyll manage.»
«And Mittens?» Charlotte fretted.
«The cat stays in the hall,» William decided. «Plenty of space for a litter box.»
Within hours, their orderly home had become a cross between a boarding house and a nursery. The sitting room vanished under toys and bedding, suitcases lined the narrow hallway, and the cat yowled from the bathroom»just until he settles.» The air smelled of unfamiliar soap and someone elses life.
Eleanor watched her sanctuary dissolve. What struck her most was how effortlessly everyone assumed ownership, as if her home were communal property.
«Ellie, where do you keep the spare loo roll?» Emily called from the loo.
«Under the sink.»
«Mind if I borrow a towel? We havent unpacked ours yet.»
«Of course.»
By supper, it was clear their old life was over. The children raced through hide-and-seek, the cat howled, and the adults debated house-hunting strategies over shepherds piestretched thin to feed six.
«Brilliant, thank you,» Emily said.
«Lovely meal,» William added.
Eleanor said nothing. Shed scraped together leftovers, knowing tomorrows groceries would fall to her.
After supper, she cleaned alone while the others settled the children. Thomas found her at the sink.
«All right?» he asked.
«Fine.»
«Dont fret. Theyll find a place soon.»
«Mm.»
He hesitated at her tone but let it go.
Dawn broke to childrens shrieks and pounding feet. Eleanor rose at half-six, exhausted. The kitchen was a disastercereal bowls, sticky spoons, a late-night tea mug left by someone.
«Good morning!» Emily chirped. «I meant to wash up, but I wasnt sure where things go.»
«Ill manage,» Eleanor said flatly.
Breakfast was chaos. Thomas and William bolted coffee before work, Emily herded the children, and Eleanor juggled toast and complaints.
«Mum, can I have yogurt?» Charlotte whined.
«We only have one left,» Eleanor said.
«Then Oliver shouldnt have any!»
«Charlotte, eat your cereal,» Emily sighed.
By midday, Eleanor was frayed. The childrens demands, the cats wailing, Emilys client callsshe hadnt touched her own work.
«Ellie, whats for lunch?» Emily asked.
«Ive no idea. What do you usually have?»
«Oh, anything! Do you have potatoes?»
«A few.»
«And mince?»
«In the freezer.»
«Perfect! Shepherds pie again?»
Eleanor noted the «we» in Emilys suggestion, yet her sister-in-law returned to her laptop.
«Are you cooking?» Eleanor clarified.
«Oh! Right. Ive a deadline at three. Could you start, and Ill help after?»
Eleanor turned to the stove without a word.
By weeks end, she snapped.
«Right,» she announced at dinner. «Were setting a rota. Im not running a canteen.»
«Absolutely,» William agreed.
But next morning, Emily pleaded urgent work, William left early, and Thomas was «swamped.»
Eleanor stewed silently. That evening, she confronted Thomas.
«This cant go on.»
«What dyou mean?»
«Im cooking, cleaning, minding the childrenwhile you lot treat this like a hotel.»
«Youre exaggerating.»
«Am I? Who made breakfast?»
«You.»
«Lunch?»
«You.»
«Supper?»
«For Gods sake, Lena»
«Dont for Gods sake me! Why am I running a household of six alone?»
«Its temporary!»
«Two weeks with no end in sight!»
Thomas faltered. «Ill talk to Emily. Well share chores.»
But the talk yielded nothing.
Then came the final straw.
As Eleanor prepped dinner, Thomas approached.
«Forgot to mentionthe children start at the village school Monday. Well need packed lunches.»
«And?»
«And laundrys piling up. Could you»
«Could Emily?»
«She doesnt know the machine.»
«Shell learn.»
Thomas hesitated, then added, «And with more of us, youll need to cook larger portions.»
Eleanor set down her knife. Slowly, she turned.
«Say that again.»
«I just meant»
«You just decreed Ill cook for your sisters family.» Her voice was lethal.
Thomas paled. «I didnt mean»
«But you did.»
She removed her apron, hung it up, and walked out.
«Ellie! Where are you going?»
«To pack your things.»
In the bedroom, she yanked a suitcase from the wardrobe and filled it with Thomass clothes. Then she marched to the parlour, where the family sat watching telly.
«Sorry to interrupt,» she said, dropping the suitcase. «Ive a proposal.»
All eyes turned.
«Youll all be more comfortable at your mothers. Plenty of space. The children can run about. Youve an hour to pack.»
Stunned silence.
«Ellie, be reasonable!» Emily cried.
«I am. For two weeks, Ive been your housekeeper. Today, I was issued orders. That ends now.»
Thomas gaped. «Youre throwing us out?»
«No. Im suggesting you regroup somewhere with room to think. When youve a fair plan for sharing chores, well talk.»
An hour later, she drove them to his mothers cottage in the Cotswolds.
Granny Hughes raised an eyebrow at the caravan on her doorstep. «To what do I owe this?»
«Household negotiations,» Eleanor said crisply.
The old womans gaze swept over her son. «Ah. I see.»
As Eleanor turned to leave, Thomas caught her arm. «This is daft. Lets talk properly.»
«We have. Multiple times. Now, you talk amongst yourselves.»
The next day, she woke to blissful quiet. Coffee. Work. Peace.
That evening, Thomas phoned.
«Weve talked. You were right.»
«And?»
«Made a rota. Cooking, cleaning, laundrydivided fairly.»
«Show me tomorrow. Signed by all.»
They returned contrite, bearing a detailed schedule. Meals, chores, childcareall assigned. Even the children had small tasks.
Eleanor scrutinized it. «Well see.»
The first week was shakyforgotten duties, excuses. But Eleanor held firm.
«Emily, its your turn to cook.»
«Oh, but my project»
«Half an hour. Porridge isnt rocket science.»
By months end, habits stuck. Emily mastered the hoover. William learned to roast a chicken. The children tidied their own mess.
When they finally found a house, Emily hugged Eleanor goodbye. «Thank you. We needed that shake-up.»
Thomas, wiser now, kept the rota for their own home. And never again did he mistake his wife for staff.
Years later, Emily would laugh about it. «Remember when you exiled us to Mums?»
«I remember you learned to use a washing machine,» Eleanor replied.
And that, they agreed, was worth the lesson.
