“You don’t get to decide who lives here,” snapped the husband when the niece stayed.
“Valerie, love, have you got any milk?” asked the neighbour Mrs. Thompson, poking her head through the slightly open door. “My granddaughter’s visiting, and I need to make her porridge.”
“Of course, take a whole pint,” said Val, setting aside her knitting and heading to the kitchen. “There’s another in the fridge.”
Mrs. Thompson nodded gratefully and was about to leave when a gruff voice called from the living room:
“Whos that coming round every day? As if she hasnt got her own home!”
Val flushed. Barry had been in such a foul mood latelynothing pleased him. The neighbours were too loud, the kids outside played too roughly, even she couldnt do anything right.
“Sorry about that,” Val murmured. “Barrys under a lot of stress at work.”
“Dont you worry, dear,” Mrs. Thompson waved a hand. “Men, eh? Thanks for the milk.”
When the neighbour left, Val returned to the living room. Barry sat in his armchair, flipping through the paper as if nothing had happened.
“Why must you be so rude?” she asked. “Mrs. Thompsons a lovely woman. Weve been friends for years.”
“*Youve* been friends,” Barry grunted. “And whys she always after something? Salt one day, sugar the next, now milk. Cant she stock her own kitchen?”
“Whats the harm? Its not like were short.”
“Its the principle. Give an inch, theyll take a mile.”
Val said nothing. Arguing with Barry was useless these days. Hed grown so sour, so closed-off. Maybe it was his age, or the job weighing him down.
The phone rang sharply. Val picked up.
“Hello?”
“Aunt Val?” came a familiar voice. “Its Emily.”
“Emily, love! How are you? Hows uni?”
“Aunt Val, Im in a bit of a mess,” Emilys voice trembled. “Can I come stay with you? Just for a few days?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Whats happened?”
“Mum and Dad Theyve split up. Dads moved some woman in, and Mums gone to Grans. Theres no room for me there, and my exams are coming upIve nowhere to go.”
Vals heart ached. Emily was her brothers girlbright, studying economics at uni. Just yesterday, their family had seemed happy.
“You come straight here, love. Well sort you out. The sofa pulls out in the lounge.”
“Thank you! Ill come tomorrow, if thats alright?”
“Whenever you like, darling. Well feed you up proper.”
She hung up and turned to Barry, who was scowling.
“Whats this now?” he grumbled.
“Emilys coming. My brothers girl. Family troubleshes got nowhere else.”
“Are we running a B&B now?” Barry tossed his paper aside. “I come home to rest, not play host to strays.”
“Barry, for heavens sake! Shes *family*!”
“Yours, not mine. Let them sort their own mess.”
Vals temper flared. “Shes a good girl! Top of her class! Would you rather she slept rough?”
“I dont care where she sleeps,” Barry stood, bristling. “This is *my* house, and *I* decide who stays.”
Val bit her lip. Hed never spoken to her like this before.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “Ill tell her not to come.”
“Good,” Barry nodded, settling back into his chair.
Val walked to the kitchen, staring out at the children playing in the courtyard. Somewhere, Emily was packing her bags, hoping for kindness.
She dialled the number.
“Emily, love About tomorrowwere a bit tight on space. Maybe your friends could?”
Silence. Then: “Right. No worries.”
“Emily, Im so sorry”
“Its alright. Ill manage.”
The line went dead. Val clutched the phone, tears falling.
—
The next day, Barry left for work as usualpeck on the cheek, cheerful goodbye. As if last night hadnt happened.
Val cleaned, worrying. Where was Emily now? A friends sofa? A train station bench?
At lunch, Mrs. Thompson called. “Val, what was all that shouting last night? I heard Barry carrying on through the wall.”
“Oh, just work stress,” Val lied.
“Sounded like he was on about your niece. Emily, isnt it?”
Val sighed. Nothing got past Mrs. Thompson.
“Her parents divorced. She asked to stay awhile. Barry refused.”
“And wheres the poor lamb meant to go?”
“I dont know,” Val admitted.
“Since when do you let *him* make the rules?” Mrs. Thompson huffed. “Its your home too. And shes *your* family.”
Val pondered this. When *had* she stopped having a say?
—
That evening, Barry stormed in, fuming. “No bloody bonus. Boss says targets werent methow can I meet them with all these budget cuts?”
“Suppers ready,” Val ventured.
“What is it?”
“Shepherds pie and veg.”
“*Again*? Cant you make something else?”
Val dished up silently. Hed *loved* her shepherds pieonce.
“Barry What if we *did* take Emily in?” she dared. “Shes no trouble”
“*Enough*,” he snapped. “My house, my rules.”
Val said no more. But something inside her simmered.
—
Next afternoon, the doorbell rang. Emily stood there, suitcase in hand.
“Aunt Val Ive got nowhere else.”
Val hesitatedthen hugged her tight. “Come in, love.”
They talked at the kitchen table. Emilys dad had moved his girlfriend in; her mum was crammed at Grans tiny flat. No dorm rooms free until autumn.
“Youll stay here,” Val said firmly.
“But Uncle Barry?”
“Uncle Barry will cope.”
—
Barry came home, saw the suitcase, and exploded.
“I said *NO*!”
Emily shrank back. “Ill leave, I”
Val stepped between them. “Shes *staying*.”
“Over my dead body!” Barry roared.
“Then move out!” Val shouted backthe first time shed ever raised her voice.
Silence. Barry gaped.
“Fine,” he spat. Grabbed a bag. “Ill be at my mums.”
The door slammed.
Emily burst into tears. “This is all my fault”
“No,” Val held her. “The faults with the man who forgot what family means.”
—
A month later, Emily bounced in, beaming. “Aunt Val! I got a job at a marketing firmgood pay, flexible hours!”
“Thats wonderful, love!”
“And my mates are renting a three-bed. Its cheap split four ways”
Vals smile wavered. “You want to go?”
Emily hesitated. “Its justmy own space, you know? But Ill miss you *so* much.”
Val hugged her. “Youll always have a home here.”
—
On moving day, Barry reappearedhelping with bags. “Back to normal at last,” he said as Emilys taxi left.
“Normals overrated,” Val replied.
Barry blinked. “Whats that mean?”
“It means I wont live with a man whod turn away a girl in need.”
“Val, dont be daft”
“You were cruel, Barry. And Ive had enough.”
He slumped into his chair. “Maybe I overreacted.”
“Maybe you did.”
At dinner, he mumbled, “Ill try to be better.”
Val smiledproperly, for the first time in years.
One step at a time.
