I recall the time my niece Blythe came to stay with me, only to be offended when I did not feed her.
My sister lives in Manchester while I reside in London. Her daughter dreams of enrolling at the university that happens to be in my city. She will later move into a hall of residence, but for now she arrived for a few weeks, either for some exams or simply to hand in paperwork in person. I never bothered with the formalities; I just knew that turning up before starting university was perfectly normal. My sister arranged that Blythe would lodge with me for the meantime.
We never discussed who should put food on the table. If her mother kept silent on the matter, they settled it among themselves. I walked into the sittingroom and found Blythe frowning. I asked what was wrong. She answered that she had expected me to give her a warm midday meal. I snapped back, I wont be providing you with any food, and Ill be following my own schedule. I have to leave urgently! Call your mother and have her transfer some money onto your account, then go and buy some biscuits, a couple of rolls, and have them with tea. By the way, buy tea as well Ive run out! Youre eighteen now, not a child!
Her mother, Helen, has not spoken to me about her life for ages and does not know that, once the children fled the nest, my husband vanished in an unknown direction and I threw myself into work. My employment comes with a terrible timetable, so Im home only irregularly, and I have hardly any energy left for household chores. A proper nights sleep is a luxury I seldom afford.
I have no intention of sacrificing anything for a guest. It is, of course, pleasant to see Blythe again. She has grown, become more ladylike, yet I am no longer the freewheeling Aunt Lucy who could once whip up an entire feast without worrying about time or effort. Let her shop for herself, slice, boil, fry, or steam whatever she wishes. Even better, let her buy something readymade, so she wont damage my stove or my flat.
Instead, she sulked, calmed down only to brood in silence day after day, perhaps having expected a full board and a mothers care. I do not know if things will settle. It is hard to stop being the everready, convenient aunt after so many years of maintaining calm, friendly relations with everyone in my close circle. Even now I remain fairly amicable: I offered her a free bed, albeit without the extra amenities. I sought advice from a counsellor on how to explain gently and kindly to my relatives that I am no longer as functional as I once was. They must expect a little less from me now.
