It’s coming up three years since I last spoke to my aunt, well face to face anyway. And yesterday I saw on the website for the local newspaper that she received an award from Jamie Oliver for her help with his Jamie At Home stuff. And all I thought as I read it was that they neglected to mention that she’s a complete bitch.
Of course if we rewind ten years I wouldn’t be thinking that at all, in fact I’d be looking forward to her coming over because it often meant that the day could end up being fun. I loved it whenever me and mum stayed late round her house because they usually started singing kid’s songs and (if it was near Christmas) their version of Santa Clause is Coming to Town, the possibility of the Jaffa Cake Olympics often cropped up and on more than one occasion they threw out absurd ideas for a Barbie doll.
But then three years ago it fell apart, and by ‘it’ I guess I mean our family. Our relationships blew away as if they had always been fragile. I never thought they were, but in hindsight it was pretty obvious. My aunt would quite happily slag anyone off and she often told my mum that she was a bad mother for going to work.
She also told my mum that she should stop encouraging my dream of writing, because she was only setting me up to fail, that it wouldn’t happen. I didn’t find any of this out until after we stopped talking to her.
I could quite easily blame myself for this, after all it was down to my actions that kind of led to us falling out, but it was an indirect consequence of an argument that happened between me an my Nan all because I didn’t close the dishwasher correctly.
It sounds pretty pathetic, it was pretty pathetic, but whenever my Nan was about (even though she did take us in for 11 years) tempers always ran pretty close to the surface.
But I don’t know if I should take the blame. We tried everything we could with my aunt, we spoke to her as often as we could, went to visit but then out of the blue she said that there was an obvious problem between her and my mum and that she didn’t think it wise that we go to my cousin’s fourth birthday party.
For the next year we tried not to let it deter us too much. We bought presents for my aunt’s children and snuck round at night to post them through the letter box. It ended with her returning some of them (we noticed that she kept the decent ones) with a letter that politely told us to fuck off.
Any news about her has always come from a different source, like the award for example. But there was something else. Last year she gave birth to her third child, I didn’t even know she was pregnant. I don’t even know its name. Part of me think it’s particularly spiteful of her to not even bother trying to tell us, part of me doesn’t give a damn and part of me is judging her like hell.
The thing is though, she’s great at spinning a story. Me and my mum are in no doubt that we’re hugely disliked amongst our extended family because they haven’t heard our side of the story, and they are never going to ask.
I’m a stubborn person, I’m not going to forget an argument and I’m certainly not going to forgive her unless she apologies to my mum and even then I won’t trust her. Over the past three years I’ve come to the realisation that she’s a selfish person, a little bit greedy and to some extent irresponsible. Of course this might be exaggerated by lack of contact with her.
It really annoyed me, seeing her name as part of the local news because she keeps cropping up, and for the moment I really don’t want her to, she’s let me down and disappointed me and the gist of it is, she’s not the person I thought she was.