Since youre not working, youll be cooking for us declared my brotherinlaws sister as she crossed the doorway.
Andrew, can you hear me? I cant take this any longer!
Helen stood in the middle of the sittingroom, a wailing baby Daisy cradled in her arms, feeling a storm roiling inside her. Andrew lounged on the sofa, face glued to his phone, pretending not to hear the childs cries or her words.
What now? he said without looking up.
What now? Ive been up all night! Daisy ran a fever, I rocked her until dawn. Meanwhile you slept soundly in the spare bedroom and didnt even stir!
I have a shift tomorrow. I need to catch some sleep.
And I dont? Im a robot, huh? Twentyfourhour marathon on my feet!
Andrew finally tore his eyes away from the screen, irritation flickering across his face.
Helen, stop the theatrics. Youre at home, you can rest during the day. Im working from morning till night to keep us afloat.
A lump rose in Helens throat. It felt as if she were lounging on a seaside resort while the rest of her day was spent changing filthy nappies and surviving sleepless nights.
You know what, she whispered, gently calming Daisy until the baby fell silent. Go to bed. I wont bother you any more.
Andrew rose and disappeared into the bedroom, not even glancing at his daughter. Helen sank onto the sofa, pressing the warm little body close. Daisy was only eight months, still unable to sleep through the night, demanding constant attention. Helens fatigue was such that she sometimes wondered if any strength remained at all.
They had married three years earlier, when everything had seemed brighter. He had courted her, bringing flowers and compliments. She worked as an administrator at a medical centre, he was a project manager at a construction firm. They lived modestly but happily, until the pregnancy.
At first Andrew was over the moon, declaring he wanted a son and a happy family. When Helen went on maternity leave, he withdrew: less help at home, longer hours at work, evenings with mates. When Daisy arrived, he seemed to disappear entirely.
Helen knew a newborn could stress anyonesleeplessness, endless crying, exhaustionbut she hoped they would get through it together. Instead, Andrew built an invisible wall.
After laying Daisy down, Helen drifted to the kitchen. It was half past ten in the morning and she had not yet eaten. The sink was piled with yesterdays dirty dishes, a pot of burnt porridge clung to the stove. She switched on the kettle and began washing plates on autopilot.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Andrew: Mum and Emma are arriving tonight. Theyll stay a week. Have something ready for dinner.
She reread it three times. Motherinlaw and sisterinlaw for a whole week, and he hadnt even asked if it suited her.
She replied: Andrew, I have a baby. How am I supposed to host them?
His instant reply: Dont worry, just be a good host. Its my family.
Helen tossed the phone onto the table. Margaret, her motherinlaw, had always kept a chilly distance, convinced that her son could do better. Emma, Andrews sister, was a successful salon owner, fiercely proud of her independence. She had declared that children were a cross on a career and a shackles to freedom the moment Daisy was born.
Now those two women would occupy her home for a week.
By evening Helen had managed to tidy the flat, cook a pot of soup and some meatballs, and change Daisy into fresh clothes. She threw on the first thing she could finda pair of old jeans and a crumpled Tshirt. Looking at herself, she thought she hadnt cared about appearance in years.
The doorbell rang at precisely seven. Andrew answered; he had just come home from work and collapsed onto the sofa.
Mum! Emma! Come in!
Margaret swept into the hallway, scanning everything with a critical eye. Emma followed, highheeled and clutching a large designer handbag.
Hello, Helen said, drying her hands on a towel.
Well, hello, Margaret gave a dry nod, stepping straight into the sittingroom without even removing her shoes. Andrew, help with the luggage.
Emma halted in the doorway, eyeing Helen.
Have you been at home all day? At least dress properly when youre receiving guests.
Helen felt her cheeks burn.
Sorry, Ive been with the baby, didnt have time.
Right, Emma slipped off her shoes and plonked herself on the sofa where Margaret already settled. Mum, I told you this place was a mess.
Helen stood in the hallway, unsure what to do. Andrew flitted around, asking how the journey had been, never looking at her.
Will you be having dinner? she ventured, peeking into the room.
Whats on the menu? Margaret asked, squinting.
Soup and meatballs.
Soup? Emma snorted. We were hoping for something light. Maybe a salad and poached fish.
I didnt know
Fine, bring whatever you have, Margaret waved a hand. Dont let the house go to waste.
Helen set the table. Margaret and Emma nitpicked every detail: the soup was too salty, the meatballs dry, the bread stale. Andrew ate in silence, never defending his wife.
Wheres the child? Margaret asked once the plates were cleared.
Sleeping, Helen began to clear the dishes.
Wake her, I want to see my granddaughter.
Shes only just asleep, better not. Shell be up all night if we disturb her.
I said wake her, Margarets voice hardened. Or do I have to go myself?
Helen slipped into the nursery. Daisy lay there, arms outstretched, a picture of peace. It hurt to wake her, but there was no choice.
What a child, Emma complained as Helen carried the sleepy, already whimpering baby back to the living room. She cries constantly.
Shes eight months, Helen soothed, trying to calm her. She got scared when we woke her.
Thats why I dont want kids, Emma muttered, turning away. Only problems.
Margaret lifted the baby, turning her over, inspecting.
Shes so skinny. Do you feed her properly?
Of course I do!
You must have time only for yourself then. Look at this flat, its not sparkling.
Helens fists clenched. She had spent the whole day cleaning, cooking, chasing a baby, and still it wasnt enough.
Maybe youd like to rest? Andrew suggested, trying to sound helpful. You must be tired from the journey.
Yes, perhaps, Margaret said, handing the baby back. Andrew, show us where well be sleeping.
Ive set up a foldout sofa in the lounge, Helen replied. Thats all we have; there are only two rooms, one is the nursery.
A foldout? Emma raised an eyebrow. Seriously?
Emma, please use the nursery, Andrew said. Well move Daisy to our bedroom for the night.
Helen wanted to argue but stayed silent. It was pointless.
When the guests finally settled, Helen moved the crib into the bedroom. The baby, now angry from being woken, refused to settle. Helen rocked, sang, but Daisy kept wailing.
Helen, do something! Andrew tossed in the bed. I have work tomorrow!
Im trying!
Not trying enough!
Helen slipped out with Daisy, shut the kitchen door, perched on a stool, pressed the child to her chest and wept quietly together.
Morning arrived with a knock at the bedroom door.
Helen, get up! Its nine oclock!
She opened her eyes. Daisy slept in the cot, Andrew was nowhere. Helen swung a robe over herself and went downstairs.
Margaret and Emma were sitting at the kitchen table, faces sour.
Weve been up an hour and theres no breakfast, Emma declared. At least we managed to turn the kettle on ourselves.
Sorry, I didnt hear you get up, Helen said, moving to the stove. What would you like?
An omelette, Margaret said, but no butter, a dry pan only. I cant have fat.
Porridge for me, Emma added, water only, no sugar. And a proper coffee, not that instant rubbish.
Helen only had instant coffee, but she kept quiet and began to prepare breakfast.
Listen, Emma said, leaning back, eyes fixed on Helen. Since youre not working, youll be cooking for us. Properly, not this bland soup and meatballs. Well give you a list of what to buy and how to make it.
Helen froze, whisk in hand.
What?
Nothing, Emma shrugged. Youve got all day anyway. At least youll be useful.
Im with the baby!
The baby sleeps half the day. Plenty of time.
Helen glanced at Margaret, hoping for an ally, but the older woman simply nodded.
Emmas right. Were family. You should help your husbands relatives. Itll also give you practice, since youre not a great cook.
Wheres Andrew? Helen felt the heat rise again.
Hes at work, left early, Margaret said, sipping tea. By the way, your sugar looks cheap. Next time buy the decent stuff.
Helen finished the breakfast in a heavy silence. Her hands shook with indignation, but she kept herself together. She set the plates, cleared the table, and watched Emma push the porridge around.
Its awful, Emma said, pushing the bowl away. Its lumpy. Fix it.
I wont, Helen said quietly, but firmly. Eat whats there or make it yourself.
How dare you speak to us like that? Margaret slammed her cup on the saucer. Were guests in this house!
Guests dont behave like this, Helen replied, removing her apron. Im not your maid. I have a job, Im a mother, I look after this child.
A job? Sitting with a baby isnt a job, love, thats nothing. Youre just hanging on my brothers neck, thats all.
Enough, Helen turned and walked toward the door.
Where are you going? Margaret called after her. The dishes arent done!
Helen didnt answer. She slipped into the bedroom, closed the door, and grabbed her phone. She typed to Andrew: Your mum and sister are being rude. Either you speak up or Im leaving for my parents.
He replied half an hour later: Dont make things up. Theyre just trying to help. Hang on for a week.
Hang on. Always hang on. Helen flung the phone onto the bed.
Daisy woke and began to cry. Helen lifted her, changed her, fed her, while the voices of Margaret and Emma drifted from the kitchen in fragments: shameless, Andrew spoiled her, should have found someone else.
Helen took Daisy for a walk, leaving without warning. She strolled through the park, pushing the pram, watching the autumn leaves tumble. She needed to think about what to do next.
She returned to find the flat smelling of something delicious. Margaret was frying potatoes with mushrooms in the kitchen.
Ah, youre back, Margaret said without turning. Where have you been?
Out walking.
Right. Since you dont want to cook, Ive made something myself. Andrew loves mushrooms. Your fridge is practically empty, I barely managed to scrape together a few things.
Helen slipped past on tiptoe, put Daisy back to sleep, and sank onto the bedroom wall, staring at it. What had happened? How had she arrived at this point?
She had once been confident, cheerful, with friends, a job, hobbies. Now she felt like a trapped mouse, terrified to open her mouth at home.
Evening found Andrew back in good spirits.
How was your day? he asked, kissing his mother on the cheek.
Fine, Andrew. I made you those mushroom potatoes you like.
Thanks, Mum! he said, sitting down. Wheres Helen?
Shes in the other room, sulking, Emma said, painting her nails on the sofa. We told her to cook and she got offended.
Helen! Andrew called. Come here!
She emerged from the bedroom.
Whats wrong?
Mum says you were rude this morning.
Me? Rude?
Yes, Margaret said, laying plates on the table. We asked you to make breakfast and you snapped and left.
Thats not true! They said Id be cooking for them because I do nothing all day!
Andrew frowned.
Helen, whats really going on? Cant you stand a week?
Andrew, do you hear what theyre saying?
I hear. Theyre saying what they think is normal. Youre at home, you could help.
Im not just at home! I have a child!
The child sleeps half the day, Emma interjected. Stop using that as an excuse.
Helen looked at her husbands indifferent face, at the way he calmly ate his potatoes. She realised he was not on her side. He never had been.
I see, she said, turning back to the bedroom. Im staying here.
She closed the door, leaning against it, tears strangling her throat, but she did not let them fall. She needed to think.
The next morning she rose before anyone else, packed a bag for herself and Daisy a few clothes, documents, some cash she had saved. When Daisy awoke, Helen fed her, changed her, and called a taxi.
Margaret and Emma were still asleep when Helen and the baby stepped out of the flat, bags over their shoulders. Andrew was also asleep. No one saw them off.
Her parents lived on the other side of town in a modest terraced house. Her mother opened the front door in a nightgown, halfasleep.
Helen? Whats happened?
Mum, can we stay with you for a while?
Her mother let her in without a word. Her father emerged from the bedroom, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
That wretch again? he asked, meaning Andrew.
Dad, please, Helen sank onto the sofa. I just need a place to think.
Her mother took Daisy onto her lap.
Of course, love. Stay as long as you need.
Andrew called an hour later.
Helen, where are you? Mum says youre not home!
Im at my parents.
How come? Come back now!
No.
What do you mean no? Youre my wife, your place is here!
Andrew, Im exhausted. Im tired of you, your mum, your sister. I need time to think.
Think about what? Helen, stop making a drama! They asked you to cook, thats all. Whats the big deal?
They didnt ask. They ordered, like a servant. And you chose their side.
I didnt choose any side! I just want peace at home!
At my expense. I have to be silent, to endure, to cook, to clean, while you can do whatever.
Andrew was silent.
When will you be back? she asked.
I dont know. Maybe never.
Youre serious?
Very serious. Im fed up being nothing in my own family.
She hung up, hands shaking, heart pounding. For the first time in ages she felt she had done the right thing.
Her mother brewed tea and sat beside her.
Tell me everything.
Helen recounted the months of sleeplessness, Andrews withdrawal after the baby, the constant humiliation from Margaret and Emma. Her mother listened, nodding.
My dear, why did you stay silent?
I thought I could manage. I thought it would pass.
It wont pass on its own. You have to act.
Ive decided. Im leaving.
Her father, still reading the paper, glanced up.
What do you want me to say?
Nothing. Just know were on your side. Whatever happens.
Her mother squeezed her hand.
Love isnt gone because youre tired. It dies when theres no respect. When someone stops valuing you, love withers.
Later that day a friend from school, Claire, called.
Helen, I heard you left your husband. How did you hear that?
From the grapevine. Small town, news travels fast. Whats the story?
Helen told her. Claire scoffed.
Both the motherinlaw and the sisterinlaw! And your husband is a wimp.
I dont know what to do.
You should divorce. Why stay with a man who treats you like a maid? The child deserves a mother who isnt belittled.
Helen had never considered that. The example she was setting for Daisy mattered.
Im scared.
Of course you are. But youre strong. You have us, your parents. Well help.
The chat lifted a weight. Maybe it truly was time to move on.
A week later Andrew returned, this time with flowers and a tiny present for Daisy.
Helen, Ive thought it all through. Lets start over. Ill change, I swear.
Andrew, how many times have you sworn before?
This time its real. Ive booked a session with a therapist. I want to understand why I acted like that.
Helen stared, surprised. He had always scoffed at therapy.
Really?
Yes. Heres the appointment confirmation. First session in two days.
She hesitated, then whispered, Ill think aboutShe took a deep breath, placed the phone back on the table, and whispered to herself that a new chapter was finally beginning.
