“A Guest Brings Joy Twice”: How My Brother Oliver Turned the Weekend into a Test of Patience
“Alex, you do remember your brother and his wife are visiting this weekend, don’t you?” Tanya, my wife, reminded me, holding a saucepan by the stove.
“Of course I remember,” I muttered, though I’d nearly forgotten. Life had been peaceful without Oliver’s reminders.
Every summer, my brother would visit our cottage near Cheltenham, claiming it was a “holiday”—though by the end, it was Tanya and I who needed the rest. He didn’t just bring his wife; he brought the feeling of hosting your own surprise party, where you were somehow still expected to cook and entertain.
They arrived three hours early. His voice boomed through the garden gate before he’d even knocked:
“Blimey, Alex, this heat! Your place is brilliant! Mind if I air out my socks here?”
He draped them over the garden chair. Tanya’s eyes widened. I sighed.
“Lunch ready yet?” he asked immediately.
“We’ve only just had breakfast,” I said.
“No matter! Jenny and I brought treats—éclairs, nearly expired but half-price! And a melon—bargain! Put the kettle on!”
By the time I’d washed my hands, he was already slurping melon juice off his wrist. Tanya looked thunderstruck.
“We’ll just pop off to our room for a kip, yeah? Same as last time,” he said, already heading upstairs—to our bedroom. The master one.
I shot Tanya a look.
“You said his back’s been playing up, and our mattress helps…” she whispered.
“Just two days, love. We’ll manage,” she added, reading my face.
Right then, I knew: these would be the longest two days of my life.
That evening, our daughter Emily arrived with her husband, James, and their boys, Harry and Jack. The lads buzzed around, showing off their backpacks stuffed with toys and train snacks—they were off to summer camp in the morning.
Dinner dragged on past sunset. James fiddled with the car, Oliver and Jenny napped, and the rest of us waited. For a moment, it almost felt normal: barbecue, laughter, the kids. Until it happened.
“Em, have you seen the car keys? I left them right here on the table,” James said, patting his pockets. “We’ll miss the train otherwise—it’s in two hours.”
Chaos erupted. We tore the house apart, even checked the fridge. The boys looked ready to cry. Only Oliver stayed calm, polishing off a skewer.
“Always an adventure here, eh?” He chuckled. “Glad we don’t have grandkids—we’d lose our minds!”
Tanya bit her lip. Emily tugged my sleeve.
“Dad, what if I press the key fob? If they’re nearby, it’ll beep.”
James ran outside while we held our breath. Then—a faint chirp. From the sofa? No, the armchair. No—Oliver’s satchel.
“Uncle Oliver, is this your bag?” Emily asked.
“Course it is. Why?”
“The noise is coming from here… Mind if I look?”
“Don’t be daft, love. How’d they end up there?” he tittered.
She unzipped it anyway—and pulled out our keys. With the fob.
“James! Found them! Go, go!”
They bolted. I turned to Oliver.
“How did our keys get in your bag?”
“Dunno, mate. Jenny must’ve mixed them up—thought they were mine.” He glanced at his wife.
“Exactly! Saw them lying about and popped them in. Hardly worth the drama!”
After they’d gone, Tanya and I sat on the patio.
“Did you see them off? Barely a proper goodbye…”
“Alex… That’s just Oliver. Remember how he’d take the rap for you with Dad?”
I sighed. I did. But now he was a grown man who ate our cheese, slept in our bed, and nicked our car keys.
At dawn, he was already up.
“Jenny and I had brekkie! Finished off that ham and cheddar in the fridge. Lovely digs you’ve got—like a spa! Shame to leave…”
When the gate closed behind their car, Tanya slumped onto the step.
“You know what they say, love. A guest brings joy twice. Once when they arrive…”
I nodded. “And again when they leave.”
For the first time in two days, I smiled.
