“You don’t get to decide who lives here,” snapped John when his niece stayed over.
“Margaret, love, you wouldnt happen to have any milk, would you?” asked their neighbor Linda, poking her head through the slightly open door. “My granddaughters come to stay, and I need to make her some porridge.”
“Of course,” Margaret set aside her knitting and went to the kitchen. “Take the whole bottleIve got another in the fridge.”
Linda nodded gratefully and was about to leave when a gruff voice called from the living room:
“Whos that dropping by every day like this is their own home?”
Margaret flushed. John had been in such a foul mood latelynothing pleased him. The neighbors made too much noise, the kids played too loud in the yard, even she couldnt do anything right.
“Sorry about that, Linda,” she murmured. “Johns just stressed from work.”
“Oh, dont fret, love,” Linda waved her off. “Men, eh? Thanks for the milk.”
When Linda left, Margaret returned to the living room. John sat in his armchair, flipping through the newspaper as if nothing had happened.
“Why must you be so rude?” she asked. “Lindas a lovely womanweve been friends for years.”
“*You* might be friends,” he muttered. “And whys she always begging for something? Salt one day, sugar the next, now milk. Cant she manage her own household?”
“What does it cost you? Its not like were struggling.”
“Its the principle. Give em an inch, theyll take a mile.”
Margaret stayed quiet. Arguing with John was pointless lately. Hed become so bitter, withdrawn. It wasnt like him. Maybe it was his age, or the job wearing him down.
The phone rang sharply. Margaret picked up.
“Hello?”
“Aunt Maggie?” A young womans voice, trembling. “Its Emily.”
“Emily, love! How are you? Hows uni?”
“Aunt Maggie, Im in such a mess,” Emilys voice cracked. “Can I come stay with you? Just for a few days?”
“Of course, darling. Whats happened?”
“Mum and Dad theyve split up. Dads moved some woman in, and Mums gone to Grans in Yorkshire. Ive nowhere to goexams are coming up, and I”
Margarets heart ached. Emily was her younger brothers girl, bright as a button, studying economics at university. Just last year, theyd all been together at Christmas, laughing.
“Come straight away, love. Weve the sofa bed in the lounge.”
“Thank you, Aunt Maggie. Ill take the train tomorrow, if thats alright?”
“Perfect. Well fetch you from the station.”
She hung up and turned to John, who was glowering.
“What now?” he grunted.
“Emilys coming. Pauls girl. Family troublesshes got nowhere else.”
“So were a B&B now?” John tossed the paper aside. “I come home to rest, not babysit.”
“For heavens sake, John! Shes *family*! Pauls my *brother*!”
“Brother or not, not our circus, not our monkeys. Let them sort their own mess.”
Margarets hands clenched. “Shes a good girltop of her class! Shes *struggling*, and were all shes got!”
“*Obligated*, are we?” John stood, looming. “I work my fingers to the bone for *us*. Now were feeding extras?”
“Its *temporary*. Till things settle.”
“And how longs *temporary*? A week? A month? A year?” His face reddened. “I know these guests. Next thing, well need a crowbar to pry her out.”
Margaret stared, barely recognizing him. Thirty years ago, hed been kindthe sort whod help anyone. Now
“John, *please*. Shes got *nowhere*.”
“Not my problem,” he spat. “*You* dont decide who lives here. *My* house, *my* rules.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Hed never spoken to her like this.
“Fine,” she whispered. “Ill tell Emily not to come.”
“Good,” he nodded, picking up the paper.
Margaret stood at the kitchen window, watching the neighbor kids play tag in the square, their laughter floating up. Somewhere, her niece was packing a bag, hoping for a lifeline.
She dialed.
“Emily, love?”
“Aunt Maggie?”
“About staying were a bit cramped here. Maybe theres somewhere else?”
Silence. Then, flatly: “Right. Thanks anyway.”
“Emily, Im *so* sorry”
“Salright. Ill manage.”
The line went dead. Margaret clutched the phone, then wept.
The next day, John left for work as usualpeck on the cheek, “Have a good day,” as if last night hadnt happened.
Margaret dusted, wondering where Emily had slept. A friends couch? The train station?
At lunch, Linda called.
“Maggie, what was that row last night? Heard John bellowing through the wall.”
“Oh, nothing. Work stress.”
“Sounded like he was on about Pauls girl. Emily, is it?”
Margaret sighed. Linda missed nothing.
“Her parents split. She asked to stay awhile. John refused.”
“And the poor lambs got *nowhere*?”
“I dont know,” Margaret admitted. “Shell sort something.”
“Since when do you let *him* decide?” Linda huffed. “This is your home too. Thats *your* niece, not his.”
“I cant go against him, Linda. Hes my husband.”
“*Husband*?” Linda scoffed. “Family helps family. Doesnt mean one gets to lord it over the other.”
The words stuck. When *had* she stopped having a say?
That evening, John stormed in. “Bonus got axed,” he growled. “Boss claims I missed targets. How, when theyve cut my team in half?”
“Suppers ready,” Margaret offered.
“Whatd you make?”
“Shepherds pie.”
“*Again*? Cant you cook anything else?”
She bit her tongue. Hed once loved her shepherds pie.
“John about Emily. Ive been thinkingshes no trouble. Couldnt we?”
“We *discussed* this. *No*.”
“But *family*”
“Margaret!” he barked. “*Enough*. Understood?”
She nodded, but something in her simmered. How much longer would she stay silent?
The next afternoon, the doorbell rang.
Emily stood there, suitcase in hand.
“Aunt Maggie,” she said, voice small. “Ive nowhere else.”
Margaret faltered. Thrilled to see herbut *John*
“Come in, love,” she said finally. “Tell me everything.”
Over tea, Emily unraveled: Dads new girlfriend had moved in, Mum fled to Grans tiny cottage. No space there, and the dorms were full till autumn.
Margaret saw herself at twenty in Emilys eyeslost, scared.
“Stay,” she said suddenly. “Well make it work.”
“But Uncle John?”
“Hell understand.”
Emily burst into tears, hugging her. “Ill help with everythingcooking, cleaning!”
Margaret smiled, already dreading the showdown.
John came home, spotted the suitcase, and froze.
“Whats *this*?”
“John,” Margaret stepped forward, “Emilys here. Its bad, shes got *nothing*.”
“I said *NO*!” he roared.
Emily shrank back. “Uncle John, Im so sorryIll just be a few weeks”
“*Weeks*?” He sneered. “Or years? Or *forever*?”
“John, dont shout at her!” Margaret snapped.
“Dont *tell* me how to behave in *my own home*!” he bellowed. “Who said she could come?”
“*I* did.”
“Oh, its *your* house now?” His voice rose. “*You* make the rules?”
“Shes *my niece*,” Margaret said, steel in her voice. “I *will* help her.”
“*You* dont decide who lives here!” John jabbed a finger. “*Im* the man of this house!”
Emily grabbed her bag. “Ill goI dont want trouble”
“Youre *staying*,” Margaret blocked the door. “John, *think*! Shes
