The air in the living room was thick with tension.
“Is shedoes she have *chickenpox*? Are you out of your minds? I’m pregnant!” Anna’s voice trembled as she took a step back, putting distance between herself and the makeshift sickbay. Theyd only just arrived at her mother-in-laws five minutes ago, and already she wanted to bolt.
On the sofa, Tamara smiled as if nothing was wrong. Beside her, four-year-old Pollydressed in unicorn pyjamasfidgeted on the floor, her skin dotted with green spots like some kind of sickly leopard.
“Don’t fret!” Tamara said airily. “She hasnt had a fever in three days. The GP said shes not contagious.”
“Dont *fret*? Do you know Ive never had chickenpox? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is for the baby?” Anna’s voice rose, sharp with panic. “Why didnt anyone *warn* me?” She turned on her heel, heading for the door.
“Annie, love, youre already here,” Tamara said soothingly, as if that should be enough to calm her. “Might as well stay.”
“If Id known, I wouldnt have set foot in this house!” Anna snapped, shoving her feet into her boots. She yanked on her coat outside, unwilling to spend another second near them. This wasnt the kind of surprise she needed at eight months pregnant. Her husband, bewildered, hurried after her.
The drive home was a blur of self-reproach. She *knew* how careless her in-laws were about health. Knewand still went.
…The first time her sister-in-law had shocked her was when shed dragged Polly over for a visit, feverish and coughing. Anna had brushed it offshe wasnt pregnant thenbut it had left a bitter taste.
The bitterness turned to fury when Anna caught the bug two days later. She worked from homeno chance shed picked it up elsewhere. The fever made her miss deadlines, and her boss had torn into her. Work was piling up, and her illness couldnt have come at a worse time. Shed had to push through, burning up at her desk.
“Sorry about that,” Lena had shrugged when Anna confronted her. “Didnt realise you had such a weak immune system.”
As if *she* wasnt the problem. As if *Anna* was the unreasonable one. That was what stung most.
Lena was reckless with everyone, not just Anna. Shed drop Polly off at nursery, sniffly and flushed.
“Theyre *kids*,” Lena would scoff when the nursery staff scolded her. “If mines coughing, theyve all got it already. I cant just take sick days whenever!”
She never learned. Why would she? It wasnt *her* suffering.
Miraculously, Anna didnt catch chickenpox, and baby Nicholas was born healthy. But the lesson was clear: she had to protect herself and her son from these people, or theyd ruin him. So she “accidentally” mixed up the dates for visitors, letting only her own mother near them.
“Annie, hows little Nicky?” Tamara would ask anxiously. “When can we meet our grandson?”
“Oh, I dont know,” Anna would reply, nerves fraying. “The doctor wants us to keep isolating. His immune systems still weak. We dont even take him outsideno visitors for now.”
She lied, dodged, made excusesanything to keep Pollys germ-ridden hands off her baby.
Then Lena showed up unannounced. Anna opened the door on autopilot, and the floodgates burst. Sniffling but grinning, Polly dashed straight for the nursery.
“We just popped round for tea,” Lena beamed. “Polly *begged* to see her baby cousin. Kids love little ones, dont they?”
Annas eyebrow twitched. Every instinct screamed to drag them both out by the collar, but she forced a tight smile.
“Pollys ill again, isnt she?” Anna crossed her arms, voice icy.
“Oh, kids are *always* ill,” Lena waved it off. “Its nothingjust allergies. They *need* to get sick, builds their immune system!”
“Right,” Anna drawled.
She booted them out after half an hour, claiming they were “off to meet Daddy from work,” but the damage was done. Two days later, Nicholas was burning up, his fever spiking so high he started seizing. That night was hell. She blamed herselfshe shouldve slammed the door in Lenas face.
Enough was enough.
“No more,” Anna told her husband, voice steel. “No more snotty Pollys in this house.”
“Annie, shes just a kid”
“A walking infection! Every time shes near us, someone ends up ill. *No more.*”
He fell silent. She could see he didnt like it, but she didnt care. She was tired of fearing for her son.
Cutting them off was impossible, though. They could skip New Years, fake a weekend away for Mothers Daybut banning them from Nicholass birthday? That was a fight.
“Mum and Lena are coming round tomorrow,” her husband said cautiously. “Theyll be here by five.”
Anna froze, sponge in hand. She turned, eyes blazing.
“I *told* youno invitations!”
“Annie, come off it. Theyre *family*. I *asked* if Polly was illLena said shes fine. Your mums coming tooare mine not good enough? Bloody lepers?”
Anna pressed her lips together. Fine. Shed let it slide. Maybe things had changed.
They hadnt.
This time, Polly wasnt coughingjust quiet, withdrawn, nothing like her usual self.
“Pollys *really* okay?” Anna muttered to Lena.
“Her throat was sore this morning,” Lena admitted. “But I gave her medicineshes fine now.”
Anna inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to scream.
“Lena, every time you bring that sick child here, we end up at the GPs.”
“Oh, relax! Kids get illhell catch it at nursery soon enough anyway. Consider it practice!”
Anna stared, dumbstruck.
“So I should *thank* you?”
“Not *thank*, butAnnie, youre *obsessed*. All kids get sick!”
“Not because their aunt shoves germs in their face!”
The party soured. No one left, but the mood was ruined. Three days later, Anna was dosing Nicholas with Calpol, jaw clenched.
Surely *now* her husband would see sense. But no.
On the 30th, he stormed in, flung his keys on the table, and locked himself in the living room.
“Are you okay?” Anna called.
“Stay out,” he warned. “Keep Nicky away. I was at Lenasshe asked me to help assemble Pollys Christmas bike.”
Anna already knew.
“And?”
“Theres a norovirus outbreak at her nursery. She *waited* to tell me.”
…New Years was spent hunched over buckets, untouched turkey going to waste. No countdown, no tellyjust silence.
“I cant do this,” Anna whispered. “Im tired of living in fearfor Nicky, for you. No more visits. Phone calls only, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he sighed.
This time, he meant it. Somewhere between the vomit and the sleepless nights, it had finally sunk in: family shouldnt put your child at risk for their own convenience.
Even if *all* kids get sick.
