If youre not working, youll be cooking for us declared my sisterinlaw the moment she stepped over the threshold.
Andrew, I cant take this any longer! Are you even hearing me?
Helen stood in the middle of the sitting room, a crying baby Daisy cradled in her arms, feeling the pressure building inside her. Andrew lounged on the sofa, eyes glued to his phone, pretending not to hear either the childs wail or his wifes pleas.
What now? he said without even looking up.
What now? I havent slept a wink! Daisy has a fever, Ive been rocking her all night. And you were asleep in the spare bedroom, didnt even stir!
I have a shift tomorrow. I need to get some rest.
And I dont? Am I a robot? Ive been on my feet twentyfour hours a day!
Andrew finally tore his gaze away from the screen, irritation flashing across his face.
Helen, stop throwing a tantrum. Youre at home, you can rest during the day. Im working from dawn till dusk to put food on the table.
A knot formed in Helens throat. It felt as if she were on holiday while the rest of her life was a neverending cycle of dirty nappy changes and sleepless nights.
You know what, she said, gently rocking Daisy, who had finally quieted. Go to bed. I wont bother you any more.
Andrew got up and headed for the bedroom without a glance at his daughter. Helen sank onto the couch, pulling the tiny warm body close. Daisy was only eight months old, still unable to sleep through the night and demanding constant attention. Helens exhaustion was such that she sometimes thought she had no strength left at all.
Three years ago Helen and Andrew had married. Back then everything had been different. He courted her, brought flowers, swore sweet compliments. Helen worked as an administrator at a medical centre, Andrew was a manager at a construction firm. They lived modestly but happily. Then she became pregnant.
At first Andrew was thrilled, saying he wanted a son and a happy family. But when Helen went on maternity leave, things changed. He helped less around the house, spent more time at work or with his mates. When Daisy arrived, he practically disappeared.
Helen knew a newborn was stressful for everyone sleeplessness, endless crying, fatiguebut she hoped they would get through it together. Instead Andrew seemed to build a wall between them.
After putting Daisy down in her crib, Helen walked into the kitchen. It was half past ten in the morning and she hadnt eaten yet. The sink was piled with yesterdays dirty dishes, a pot of porridge was burnt on the hob. She switched the kettle on and began washing plates.
The phone buzzed. A message from Andrew: Martha and Ivy are arriving this evening. Theyll stay for a week. Have something ready for dinner.
Helen read the text three times. Motherinlaw and sisterinlaw, for a whole week, and he hadnt even asked if it was convenient for her.
She typed back: Andrew, I have an infant. How am I supposed to look after them as well?
His reply was immediate: Dont worry, just be polite. Theyre family.
Helen dropped the phone on the table. Martha Peters, the motherinlaw, had always been cool to her, thinking she could have found a better match for her son. Ivy Collins, Andrews sister, was a successful businesswoman who owned a small hairsalon, proud of her single status. She had looked at Helen with open contempt, and after Daisys birth had declared that children were a burden on career and freedom.
Now those two women were coming to stay for a whole week.
By evening Helen had managed to tidy the flat, make a pot of stew and some meatballs, and change Daisy into clean clothes. She herself threw on whatever she could find old jeans and a wrinkled tshirt. It was a far cry from worrying about appearances.
The doorbell rang at seven oclock. Andrew opened it; he had just come home from work half an hour earlier and was already collapsing onto the sofa.
Mum! Ivy! Come in!
Martha swept into the hallway, scanning everything with a critical eye. Ivy followed, highheeled and carrying a large handbag.
Good afternoon, Helen said, wiping her hands on a towel.
Well, hello, Martha replied dryly, not even taking off her shoes. Andrew, help with the luggage.
Ivy stopped in the doorway, eyes narrowing at Helen.
Youve been sitting at home all day? At least dress decently when you have guests.
Helen felt her cheeks flush.
Im sorry, Ive been looking after the baby.
Right, Ivy shrugged, slipping off her heels and heading into the living room where Martha was already settled. Mum, I told you this place was a mess.
Helen stood in the hall, unsure what to do. Andrew buzzed around his mother and sister, asking how the journey had been, whether they were tired. He showed no concern for Helen.
Are you having dinner? she asked, peeking into the room.
What have you made? Martha asked, squinting.
Stew and meatballs.
Stew? Ivy snorted. We were hoping for something light a salad, perhaps some poached fish.
I didnt know
Fine, bring whatever you have, Martha waved a hand. Dont let the food go to waste.
Helen set the table. Martha and Ivy nitpicked every detail. The stew was too salty, the meatballs dry, the bread stale. Andrew ate in silence, never defending his wife.
Wheres the baby? Martha asked once the plates were cleared.
Shes sleeping, Helen began clearing the dirty dishes.
Wake her, I want to see my granddaughter.
She just fell asleep, its better not to disturb her. Shell be restless if woken.
I said wake her, the motherinlaw snapped. Or should I do it myself?
Helen slipped into the nursery. Daisy was asleep, tiny arms outstretched, looking peaceful. It hurt to wake her, but there was no choice.
What a baby, Ivy muttered as Helen carried the now whimpering Daisy back. She cries all the time.
Shes only eight months old, Helen soothed, trying to calm her. She was startled when you woke her.
Thats why I dont want children, Ivy said, turning away. Just problems.
Martha took Daisy in her arms, turning her this way and that, inspecting her.
Shes so skinny. Are you feeding her properly?
Of course I am!
You must have no time for yourself. I see the flat isnt sparkling.
Helen clenched her fists. She had spent the whole day cleaning, cooking, chasing the baby, and it still wasnt enough.
Mum, Ivy, perhaps youd like to rest? Andrew offered. You must be tired from the journey.
Yes, perhaps, Martha returned Daisy to Helen. Andrew, show us where well be sleeping.
Ive set up a sofa bed in the lounge, Helen said. Thats all the space we have, just two rooms. One is the nursery.
A sofa bed? Ivy raised an eyebrow. Seriously?
Ivy, the nursery is for you, Andrew suggested. Well move Daisy to our bedroom at night.
Helen wanted to argue but stayed silent. It was useless.
When the guests finally settled, Helen moved Daisys crib into her own bedroom. The baby fussed after being woken and couldnt settle. Helen rocked her, sang softly, but Daisy kept crying.
Helen, do something! Andrew tossed in the bed. I have work tomorrow!
Im trying!
Youre not trying enough!
Helen slipped into the kitchen with Daisy and shut the door, sitting on a stool, pressing the baby to her chest, and wept quietly.
In the morning a knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Helen, get up! Its nineoclock!
She opened her eyes. Daisy was still asleep in the cot, Andrew was nowhere to be seen. Helen threw on a dressing gown and walked out.
In the kitchen, Martha and Ivy sat with dissatisfied looks.
Weve been up an hour and theres no breakfast, Ivy complained. At least we managed to turn the kettle on.
Sorry, I didnt hear you get up, Helen said, heading to the stove. What would you like?
An omelette, but not with butter, on a dry pan. I cant have fat, Martha said.
Ill have porridge with water, no sugar, and a proper coffee, not instant, Ivy added.
Helen only had instant coffee, but she kept quiet and began preparing the breakfast.
Listen, Ivy leaned back in her chair, looking at Helen. Since youre not working, youll be cooking for us. Proper meals, not your stew and meatballs. Well give you a shopping list.
Helen froze, whisk in hand.
What?
Whats wrong with that? Ivy shrugged. You do nothing all day anyway. At least youre useful.
Im looking after the baby!
The baby sleeps half the day. You have plenty of time.
Helen glanced at Martha, hoping for support, but the older woman merely nodded.
Ivy is right. Were family, and you should help your husbands relatives. Itll also give you practice, since youre not great in the kitchen.
Wheres Andrew? Helen asked, feeling the heat rise inside.
Hes at work, left early, Martha said, sipping tea. And by the way, your sugar is cheap. Next time buy better quality.
Helen finished the breakfast in strained silence. Her hands trembled with anger, but she kept composure, serving the omelette and the lumpy porridge.
This is terrible, Ivy said, pushing the plate away. The porridge is clumpy. Redo it.
I wont redo it, Helen said firmly.
What? Ivy stared.
I said I wont. Eat whats there or make it yourself.
How dare you speak to us like that? Martha slammed her cup on the saucer. Were guests in this house!
Guests dont behave like this, Helen removed her apron. Im not your servant. I have a job raising our child.
Ivy laughed.
A job? Sitting at home with a baby isnt a job, love. Its nothing. Youre just on my brothers neck.
Enough, Helen turned and headed for the door.
Where are you going? Martha called after her. The dishes arent done!
Helen didnt answer. She went to the bedroom, shut the door, and grabbed her phone. She texted Andrew: Your mother and sister are being abusive. Either you stand up to them or Im leaving to my parents.
His reply came half an hour later: Dont make a scene. They just want to help. Hang in there for a week.
Hang in there. Always hang in there. Helen threw the phone onto the bed.
Daisy woke and started crying. Helen lifted her, changed her, fed her, while the muffled voices of Martha and Ivy drifted from the kitchen: shameless, Andrew has spoiled her, should have found someone else.
Helen slipped out with Daisy for a walk, leaving the house without warning. She strolled through the park, pushing the pram, watching the autumn leaves turn. She needed to think about what to do next.
When she returned, the flat smelled of something delicious. In the kitchen, Martha was frying potatoes with mushrooms.
Ah, youre back, she said without looking up. Where have you been?
Out.
Right. Since you dont want to cook, I did it myself. Andrew loves mushrooms. You barely have any food left in the fridge.
Helen tiptoed past, put Daisy down to sleep, and sat on the bedroom floor, staring at the wall. What had happened? How had she ended up here?
She used to be confident, cheerful, with friends, a job, hobbies. Now she felt like a cornered mouse, terrified to open her mouth at home.
That evening Andrew returned in a good mood.
How was your day? he asked, kissing his mother on the cheek.
Fine, Andrew. I made you your favourite mushroom potatoes, Helen said.
Thanks, Mum! he said, sitting down. Wheres Helen?
Shes in the bedroom, feeling a bit down, Ivy said, painting her nails on the sofa. We asked her to make breakfast and she got angry.
Helen! Andrew called. Come here!
Helen emerged from the bedroom.
Whats wrong?
Mum says you were rude this morning.
Me? Rude?
Yes, Martha said, placing plates on the table. We asked you to make breakfast and you snapped and left.
Thats not true! You said Id be cooking for you because I do nothing!
Andrew frowned.
Helen, honestly, can you last a week? Theyre not strangers.
Andrew, do you hear what theyre saying?
I hear. Its normal, theyre family. Youre at home, you can help.
Im not at home just to be invisible! I have a child!
The baby sleeps half the day, Ivy interjected. Theres plenty of time.
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 away. Goodnight.
Helen, wait! Wont you have dinner? he called after her.
She shut the door, pressed her back against it, tears choking her, but she did not sob. She needed to think.
The next morning Helen got up before anyone else. She packed a bag for herself and Daisy: a few changes of clothes, documents, some cash she had hidden. When Daisy woke, Helen fed and dressed her, then called a taxi.
Martha and Ivy were still asleep when Helen, baby in her arms and a bag over her shoulder, slipped out of the flat. Andrew was still in bed. No one saw her leave.
Helens parents lived on the other side of the city in a modest threebedroom house. Her mother opened the door in a nightgown.
Lily? Whats happened?
Mum, can we stay with you for a while?
Her mother quietly stepped aside, letting her in. Her father appeared from the bedroom, immediately understanding.
That wretch again? he asked, referring to Andrew.
Dad, no, Helen sank onto the sofa. I just need to be here, to think.
Her mother took Daisy into her arms, holding her close.
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 a wife, your place is at home!
Andrew, Im exhausted. Im tired of you, of your mother, of your sister. I need time to think.
Think about what? Helen, stop making a fuss! They asked you to cook, thats all.
They didnt askthey demanded, as if I were a servant. And you took their side.
I didnt take anyones side! I just want peace at home!
At my expense. I have to be silent, endure, cook, clean. And they can do whatever they like.
Andrew fell silent.
When will you be back?
I dont know. Maybe never.
Are you serious?
Very serious. Im fed up being nobody in my own family.
She hung up, her hands shaking, heart pounding. For the first time in a long while she felt she had done the right thing.
Her mother brought tea and sat beside her.
Tell me everything.
Helen recounted the months of Andrews distance after the baby arrived, the endless fatigue, the lack of help, the arrival of Martha and Ivy, their rudeness.
Lily, why did you stay silent?
I thought I could manage, that it would pass.
It never passes on its own. You have to act.
Ive decided. Im leaving.
Her father, reading the newspaper, looked up.
What do you want me to say? he asked. Youre an adult, you decide yourself. But know were with you, whatever happens.
Helen felt warmthShe packed her bag, took Daisys tiny hand, and walked out the front door, knowing that true respect begins when she chooses her own path.
