My niece, Emily, turned up at my cottage for a visit, only to be cross when I didnt set a meal out for her.
I live with my sister, Helen, in different towns Im settled in York, shes in Bristol. Her daughter, Charlotte, has been dreaming of a place at the University of Oxford, which happens to be in the city where I now reside. Shell be moving into a hall of residence once shes enrolled, but shes come for a fortnight to sort out a few exams and to hand in her paperwork in person. I never bothered with the details; I just know that a preuniversity trip is perfectly normal here. Helen arranged that Charlotte would lodge with me for the short stay.
We never discussed who would put food on the table. Since her mother, Margaret, kept silent on the matter, they were left to decide amongst themselves. I watched Charlotte slouching on the settee in the living room, looking dejected. I asked what troubled her, and she replied that she had expected a warm lunch from me. My temper flared, and I snapped: Im not going to feed you, and I have my own timetable to keep. I must dash now! Call your mum and have her transfer some money onto your account, then pop out and buy some biscuits, a scone or two, and a cuppa. Im out of tea, you know! Youre eighteen now, not a child!
Margaret and I havent spoken in years; she doesnt know that once the children left the nest, my husband vanished to some unknown corner, and I threw myself into work. My schedule is a relentless grind, and Im home only irregularly. My energy for household chores has simply abandoned me. A proper nights sleep is a luxury I can barely afford, even when I manage to get it.
I have no intention of sacrificing anything for my guest. Its a pleasure, of course, to see Charlotte again. Shes grown into a ladylike young woman, but Im no longer the carefree, spry Aunt Lucy who once could whip up a feast in a flash, sparing neither time nor effort. Let her fetch her own provisions, slice, boil, fry, or steam whatever she likes. Better still, let her buy something readymade, so she doesnt ruin my stove or my flat.
She has been pouting, then calming, then brooding in silence each day, apparently hoping for a full board that includes her mothers watchful eye. Perhaps things will settle eventually. Its hard to drop the role of the everready, accommodating aunt overnight, after years of nurturing harmonious relations with everyone in my close circle. Even now, I remain reasonably gentlehearted: Ive offered free lodging, albeit without the fullservice element. I consulted a therapist for advice on how to explain, with kindness, that Im no longer as functional as I once was. From now on, people need to expect a little less from me.
