Youll be cooking for my sisters family too, her husband said in that tonethe one hed soon regret.
Emma stood by the window, watching a cramped white van pull into the driveway. Her stomach twisted. She knew what this meant. For days, James had been pacing their flat with that guilty look, working up to *the talk*.
Em, hed started carefully the night before, remember how I mentioned Lucys flat situation?
Emma remembered. His sister had rented a two-bed in Croydon for yearsher, her husband Tom, and their two kids, ten-year-old Oliver and six-year-old Lily. The place was fine, the landlord decent, but there was a catch: the landlords daughter was getting married, and the flat was needed for the newlyweds. Tenants out.
Theyve asked to stay with us for a bit, James went on, avoiding her eyes. Just until they find somewhere.
Emma nodded. What could she say? Lucy was his only sister, they were closeyou dont turn family away when theyre in a bind. And it *was* a proper bindyou cant turf a family of four onto the streets.
How long? was all she asked.
Two, three weeks max, James said quickly. Theyre flat-hunting like mad. Toms even got an estate agent on it.
Now, watching suitcases, bikes, and a cat carrier pile out of the van, Emma knew two or three weeks was optimistic.
The kids barrelled in firstOliver lugging a backpack and football, Lily dragging a giant teddy, babbling excitedly. The adults followedLucy with the cat in its carrier, Tom with suitcases, James with boxes.
Emma! Lucy beamed, stepping inside. Thank you *so* much for having us. Well be out of your hair soon
Emma hugged her, genuinely sympathetic. Lucy had always been sweet but hopelessmarried young, kids right after uni, her world shrunk to nappies and nursery runs. She freelanced in graphic design, but Tom still called most of the shots.
Mum, where do we sleep? Lily asked, spinning in the hallway.
Emma and James two-bed flat was cosy but compact. Master bedroom, a small living room with a sofa and armchair, a galley kitchen, separate loo and bathroom. Perfect for two. For six?
Well take the sofa bed, Lucy said. The kids can crash on the floor in here?
Theres already a sofa in here, James pointed out. Theyll fit.
What about Muffin? Lily fretted.
Muffin stays in the hallway, Tom decided. Plenty of room for her litter tray.
Two hours later, their tidy flat looked like a student house after freshers week. Kids things colonised the living room, suitcases clogged the hall, the cat sulked in the bathroomjust till she settles. The air smelled of strangers, unfamiliar shampoo, someone elses life.
Emma watched her space disappear. The worst part? How easily everyone assumed it was *theirs*. Like her home was suddenly communal property.
Em, wheres the loo roll? Lucy asked, popping into the bathroom with her makeup bag.
Under the sink.
Mind if I grab a towel? We didnt bring all ours yet.
Course not.
By evening, it was clear: normal life was over. The kids thundered through hide-and-seek, the cat yowled, the adults debated Zoopla listings over tea.
Tomorrow well pop into that estate agent on High Streetthe one with the helpful brunette, Tom said. Then drive round Wimbledon in the morning, see whats about.
Nothing too pricey, Lucy sighed. Budgets tight.
Well sort it, James said confidently. Worst case, you stay here a tad longer.
Emma turned sharply. *Longer?* James caught her eye, flushed, and looked away.
Right, Ill sort dinner, Emma said, heading to the kitchen.
She pulled food from the fridge, mentally dividing portions. She shopped for two, maybe three with leftovers. Now? Six mouths, including kids who ate like horses.
Whats for tea? Oliver asked, peering in.
Not sure yet, Emma admitted.
Mum always does chicken nuggets and mash, Lily chimed in.
No nuggets left, Emma said, checking the freezer.
Six people. One chicken, pasta, some veg, and yesterdays leftover soup. Would it stretch?
Em, dont stress, Lucy said, drifting in. Well eat anything.
Yeah, but there might not *be* enough of anything.
Well hit Tesco tomorrow, stock up.
Emma nodded, chopping the chicken. Something told her we meant *her*.
Dinner was meagre. Chicken and pasta for six isnt the same as for two. The kids wolfed it down; the adults pretended they werent still hungry.
Lovely, thanks, Lucy said.
Proper tasty, Tom agreed.
Afterwards, Emma cleaned up aloneeveryone else was wrangling kids or unpacking.
Alright? James asked, joining her.
Fine, she said shortly.
Dont fret, theyll find a place soon.
Mhm.
He heard the ice in her voice but let it go. Enough drama for one day.
Morning came with shrieks and tiny feet stampeding the hall. 6:30 AM. Emma usually got up at seven.
Shh, shh! Lucy hissed. Auntie and Uncle are still asleep!
Too late. Emma was up.
In the kitchen: a tower of dirty mugssomeone had midnight tea, and the kids had raided the biscuits.
Morning! Lucy chirped. Meant to wash up, but I didnt know where you keep things.
Ill do it, Emma said, automatic.
Breakfast was a military operation. James gulped coffee before work, Tom rushed out, Lucy fed the kids, Emma darted between them all.
Em, any cereal? Lucy asked.
Think so.
Yogurts?
One left.
Lily, have cereal, Lucy told her daughter.
Dont *want* cereal! Want yogurt like at home!
Theres one yogurt and two of you, Emma explained.
Then Ollie cant have it!
*I* want it! Oliver protested.
Enough! Lucy cut in. Cereal. End of.
By the time the men left and the kids settled, Emma felt like shed run a marathon. And this was just *day one*.
Lucy, dont you work? Emma asked.
From home. Ill hop on my laptop now. Kidsll watch cartoonstheyre quiet with telly.
Emma nodded and escaped to the bedroomthe last scrap of her old life.
Twenty minutes later: *knock knock*.
Auntie Emma, Im thirsty.
Water delivered. Back to bed.
Thirty minutes later:
Auntie Emma, I need a wee.
An hour in:
Auntie Emma, Mum says can we use the washing machine?
By lunch, Emma accepted the truth: working from home was impossible. Kids demanding snacks, the cat yowling, Lucy on client calls.
Em, whats for lunch? Lucy asked at 1 PM.
Dunno. What dyou usually have?
Oh, well wing it. Got any potatoes?
A few.
Meat?
Chicken in the freezer.
Brill, well do roast chicken and potatoes.
Lucy said well, but headed for the sofa, not the oven.
*You* cooking? Emma clarified.
Oh! Yes, totally. Just gotta finish this project by three. Maybe you start, and Ill jump in after?
Emma turned to the stove without a word.
By evening, she was done. Over the day, shed cooked, washed up twice, soothed the traumatised cat, and fielded approximately eight million kid questions. Her own work? Untouched.
When the men got home, the air was thick.
Hows it been? James asked.
Peachy, Emma said flatly.
At dinner, Tom gave his house-hunting report:
Saw two places today. Ones a rip-off, the others a dump. More viewings tomorrow.
No rush, James said, magnanimous. Plenty of space here.
Emma stared. *Plenty?* In a two-bed flat with six people?
We wont overstay, Lucy said weakly.
Course not, but take your time.
After dinner, Emma cornered James in the kitchen.
We need to talk.
What about?
This isnt working.
How?
Kids are *loud*, I cant work, Im cooking for an army, cleaning up after everyone
Em, just hang in there. Shes my sister.
I get that. But why am *I* doing everything?
Who else? Lucys got the kids, the men are at work
*I* work too!
Yeah, but youre *home*
Being home doesnt mean Im free labour!
James winced. Alright, Ill talk to Lucy. Shell pitch in more.
And Tom.
And Tom.
Next day? No change. Lucy was swamped, Tom in back-to-back meetings, and Emma? Still the unpaid housekeeper.
Day three, she cracked.
Right, Emma announced at dinner. Were splitting chores. Im not running a B&B.
Yes, absolutely, Lucy agreed. Ill cook tomorrow.
And well rotate washing up, Emma added.
Naturally, Tom nodded.
Next morning, Lucy had a deadline emergency, Tom left early, and James? Flat out at work.
So. Me again, Emma muttered.
That evening, shed had enough.
James, this stops now.
What?
Im not your live-in maid. I cook, clean, babysit. Everyone else acts like theyre on holiday.
Youre overreacting.
Am I? Who made breakfast today?
You.
Lunch?
You.
Dinner?
Alright, point taken
Who washed up?
Em, I get itits tough right now.
Tough? Its *unfair*. Why am I supporting your whole family?
They wont stay forever!
Its been a *week*. And Lucy said good flats wont come up for *months*.
So, a month or twobig deal.
Easy for *you*you swan off to work! Im stuck here
Youre *home* anyway, its not like
*Like hell it is!* Emmas voice cracked. I *work* from home! Or I *would*, if I wasnt constantly feeding people, cleaning up, playing nanny!
James paled. Okay, okay. Ill talk to Lucy. Properly.
And Tom.
And Tom.
But the talk was all vague promises. No real plan.
Then came the final straw.
Emma was cooking when James ambushed her.
Oh, nearly forgotkids start school and nursery tomorrow. Early breakfast needed.
Fine.
And packed lunches.
Right.
And Lucy says theyre out of clean clothes. Maybe do a wash?
Maybe *she* can.
She doesnt know how our machine works.
She can *learn*.
James hesitated, then dropped the bomb:
And with more of us now, youll need to cook bigger portions.
Emma turned slowly.
Excuse me?
Well, theyll be eating here all the time
And?
Youll be cooking for my sisters family too, James said, in *that* tonethe one he instantly regretted.
Emma set down the knife. Turned. Her expression? New. Terrifying.
Say that again.
What?
What you just said. About me cooking.
James swallowed. Too late now.
I just meant with more people youll be cooking more
Ah. *Ill* be cooking. Emma nodded. Got it.
She untied her apron. Hung it up. Walked out.
Emwhere are you going?
Bedroom.
What about dinner?
What about it? You said Ill cook. So I will. *When I feel like it.*
She locked the door, hands shakingrage, exhaustion, betrayal. In two weeks, shed gone from wife to skivvy. And her husband didnt even *see* it.
She yanked a suitcase from the wardrobe. Packed James things. Neatly. The way she always did.
Then she marched into the living room, where the clan was glued to *EastEnders*.
Sorry to interrupt, she said, plonking the suitcase in the centre. Change of plans.
Everyone stared.
Ive packed James essentials. Youre all staying at your mums. Big house, loads of spacekids can run wild, adults wont be on top of each other.
*Em*what the hell? Lucy gasped.
Thinking of your comfort.
But were *settled* here Tom protested.
*You* are. *Im* not. Two weeks of being your maid is enough.
What maid? Tom looked baffled.
Who cooked today? Emma asked.
Silence.
Yesterday?
Silence.
Who washed the kids clothes?
We can *help*
You *can*. But you *dont*. Because I *do*.
She grabbed the car keys.
Mum, are we moving? Lily whispered.
Just visiting Nana for a bit, Lucy said weakly.
An hour later, they were piled into the car, silent. Even the cat seemed tense.
At James mumsa spry woman in her seventiesthey were met with raised eyebrows.
To what do I owe the pleasure?
Just visiting, James mumbled.
All of you? For *long*?
For a *think*, Emma said sweetly. About fair division of household labour.
The older woman looked between them. Ah. *That* kind of visit.
Emma helped unload, then turned to leave.
James caught her arm. This is *madness*. Lets go home and talk properly.
Nothing to discuss. You wanted me to cook and clean for everyone? Fine. But on *my* terms. Meanwhile, *you* lot work out a rotacooking, cleaning, kids, the lot. Equal shares. Signed in blood.
*Em*
No. Either everyone pulls their weight, or you live separately. *Capisce?*
The next day? Bliss. Emma slept in. Had coffee in peace. Worked without interruptions.
Evening call from James:
Weve had a chat.
And?
Mum tore strips off us. Said we were acting like entitled prats.
Smart woman.
We made a rota. Want to hear it?
Bring it home. Signed by all.
Next day, they returned. Sheepish.
Were *so* sorry, Lucy said. We were awful.
Didnt realise how much we dumped on you, Tom admitted.
James handed over the rota. Emma scanned it: cooking rotated, dishes done by the cook, cleaning shifts, *parents* minded their own kids.
Thisll do, Emma said. But its just *paper*.
Well stick to it, Lucy vowed.
And they *did*. Mostly. Lucy forgot her cooking day once (*Deadline!*), Tom missed the dishes (*Knackered from work!*), James tried to dodge hoovering (*Exhausted!*).
But now? Emma held firm.
Lucyyour breakfast shift.
Oh *crikey*, I
Porridge takes ten minutes. *Move.*
Tomdirty dishes.
Yeah, sorry, got in late
Not my problem. *Wash up.*
Jameshoovering. Now.
*Em*, Im *shattered*
Join the club. *Push the Dyson.*
Slowly, it stuck. Even the kids pitched intoys tidied, plates cleared.
A month later, Lucy and Tom found a flat.
Honestly? Lucy confided before leaving. Im *glad* you blew up.
Why?
Our old place was a tip. Tom never lifted a finger, the kids were feral. Now? Weve got *systems*.
Good.
Ta. For not letting us walk all over you.
Moving day. Final kitchen debrief.
Em, James said, Im sorry. About *youll cook*. That was out of order.
Water under the bridge.
No, its not. I was a dick. I dont *want* to be that guy.
Prove it.
Maybe we need a rota too? Just for us?
Emma smiled. Now youre talking.
Once the flat was quiet again, James asked:
Regret going nuclear?
Not a bit. If I hadnt, youd still be ordering, theyd still be taking, Id still be scrubbing.
Fair.
Families arent armies, James. No barking orders.
Lesson learned.
And six months later, at a birthday do, Lucy bragged:
Ollie *tidies his room now*. *Himself!* And Tom makes a banging Sunday roast. Ive even mastered the *iron*.
Miracle worker, Emma laughed.
All thanks to you. If you hadnt kicked us out
*Suggested a think*, Emma corrected.
wed still be living in squalor.
Now youre *fair*, Emma said. Thats the key.
And it was. From then on, no one gave orders. Chores got shared. And the words *youll cook* were never again spoken like a royal decree.
Because everyone remembered the day Emma packed that suitcase and proved a simple truth: in a family, there are no servants. Only equals.
And James? He *really* regretted that tone. And he never forgotin a family, you dont command.
You *cooperate*.
