The Neighbours Who Overstepped: How Emily Drew the Line
James returned home exhausted, only to be greeted by the rich aroma of roast filling the flat—meat sizzling in the oven while Emily tossed a salad. He kissed his wife and remarked,
“Smells amazing.”
“Made it for the guests,” she replied with a smile.
“For my lot?” James frowned. “I asked you not to bother.”
“Well, they’re family. After a long day, they’ll want a proper meal.”
“Emily, you’ll see my point soon enough. Should’ve listened.”
A few hours earlier, his mother had called.
“Love, Lucy—Lydia’s girl—just bought a place near yours with her husband. No water till the plumbing’s fixed. Lydia’s asked if they could pop round to shower for a couple of days.”
James wasn’t thrilled. He’d never warmed to Lucy, even as a child—too much like her scheming mother.
“Fine, but just for a wash. Nothing more,” he sighed.
Lucy and her husband, Tom, arrived by evening.
“Hello! I’m Lucy, this is Tom—and you must be Emily?”
Without waiting for an invite, Lucy roamed the flat, testing door handles, peeking into the bedroom. James shut the door firmly.
“Here for the shower, yeah?”
“Absolutely! Emily, any spare towels? Forgot ours.”
Once cleaned up, they lingered, sniffing the roast in the living room.
“Ooh, that smells divine!” Lucy chirped. “What’s cooking?”
Emily sighed and set the table.
They cleared every plate. Left behind were towels, loofahs, and shampoo. Emily muttered,
“Shower gel’s no loss, but those sponges are ruined.”
The next day, same routine. And the third. Emily served broccoli bake—Lucy made a face.
“Ugh! You eat this? Where’s the proper grub?”
Day four: pasta with bolognese. Lucy huffed,
“Barely any meat. Just sauce.”
James turned to Tom.
“When’s the water back on?”
“Actually, it’s fixed,” Tom admitted.
Lucy cut in sharply,
“The showerhead’s not fitted yet…”
After dinner, Emily eyed her husband.
“I’ve got a plan to put them off. Play along.”
Next evening, as the guests settled, Emily brought out a tray of dry oats, grated apple, and honey.
“No-Knead Beauty Loaf. Full of nutrients. James and I swear by it now.”
Lucy chewed reluctantly. The “loaf” was clearly inedible. They left swiftly.
“You’re cooking tonight,” Emily told James. “Freezer’s got dumplings.”
Two days later, Lucy called.
“That… loaf again?”
“Afraid so. Emily’s ruthless. Bring some sausages if you’re coming—I can’t stomach another bite.”
“No, we’re done. Got water and a showerhead now.”
Days later, James’s mum rang.
“Lydia says Emily starves you.”
“Mum, don’t be daft. I’m fed, fit, and happy. Oh—and we’re selling this flat. Moving to a house. Let’s see who’s ‘family’ then.”
