“Your cat stomps too loudly!”
“Turn off that blasted machine! I can’t sleep because of you!” came a shout from behind the door.
Someone started banging on the flat and mashing the doorbell. Emily flinched and dropped the remote. Alex shifted irritably under the covers.
The bedside lamp cast a dim glow. Outside, the sticky summer heat pressed in. Emily threw on her dressing gown and went to the door.
Outside stood a woman in her seventies, her lips thin and her expression sour. She wore a simple cotton dress and clutched a mobile phone.
“Sorry, but who are you?” Emily asked, keeping the door shut—she was nervous.
“It’s Margaret Davies! From the flat below. That rattling contraption of yours is right above my window, keeping me awake. Turn it off at once! Or I’ll call the police! You’re making noise at unsociable hours!”
Emily tried to get a word in, but Margaret Davies ranted without pause.
“I don’t understand how people can be so inconsiderate! The whole building suffers because of you!”
“It’s not that loud, is it?” Emily ventured cautiously. “We even checked with the window open.”
“Not loud to *you*, but my heart’s pounding from the racket!”
“Alright, we’ll turn it off,” Emily agreed, reluctant. “We didn’t realise it was bothering you…”
“Well, now you know,” Margaret snapped.
Her footsteps faded down the hall.
Emily returned to the bedroom and switched off the air conditioner. She flung open the windows and balcony doors, but it made no difference. The heat rolled in like a suffocating wave. Alex tossed and turned before giving up and showering, while Emily lay staring at the ceiling.
This wasn’t how they’d imagined their first summer in their new flat.
…They’d bought this two-bed just a few months ago. Last summer in their rented flat had been a nightmare—bowls of cold water, fans blowing hot air in circles. Emily had taken out the mortgage with shaky hands, but at least now no one could dictate how they lived.
Turns out, someone still would.
The next morning, Emily ran into another neighbour, Natalie, in the lift. They’d already met—even helped her fix a leaky tap.
“Listen, Nat,” Emily leaned against the wall, “we turned the AC on last night, and someone complained. Is it really that noisy?”
Natalie arched an eyebrow.
“Let me guess. Margaret Davies?”
Emily nodded.
“Well… she complains about us too. The telly’s too loud, my son laughs too much. Once, she said our cat jumps too heavily. We’re used to it. She calls, oh, twice a month. It’s manageable.”
Emily couldn’t help but grin.
“Your *cat*? Seriously?”
“Yep,” Natalie confirmed. “We don’t even watch telly now—just headphones. Harder with the kid and cat, though.”
Later, Emily bumped into James on the stairs. He had the same AC unit, mounted right under Margaret’s window.
“James, has she ever complained to you?”
“Nah. Though mine’s pretty loud. Mate said it was fitted wrong—rattles sometimes. Guess I’m in her good books,” he chuckled.
“Does *anyone* complain about us?”
“Haven’t heard a peep. You two are like ghosts. No kids, no drills, not even a dog.”
The replies didn’t reassure Emily. She turned the AC on again, listening through the open window. Barely audible.
So what was the problem? Maybe it wasn’t about decibels. Emily started wondering if Margaret simply disliked *them*, resenting everything about the new neighbours. Or maybe she just hated seeing others comfortable. Some people were like that.
From the moment Margaret appeared on their doorstep, their quiet flat became a battleground. Each evening, they cranked the AC early, banking on an extra half-hour before the windows had to close. They set alarms for 10:59 p.m. A two-minute delay, and Margaret would hammer the radiators, shouting. Five minutes, and she’d be at their door.
To survive the heat, they used a fan by the window. It was louder than the AC—yet, mysteriously, Margaret never mentioned it.
They even called a technician, responsible neighbours that they were. He tightened some fittings and added padding for noise insulation.
“Right, that’s as quiet as it’ll get. Barely hums now. Can’t make it quieter—don’t need to,” he concluded.
Emily smiled in relief. Hopefully, they could finally sleep.
Two nights later, at 11:03, the phone rang.
“Are you running that blasted thing *again*?” Margaret’s voice was shrill. “My walls are shaking! I feel ill—my blood pressure’s sky-high!”
“We had a technician out. Even *he* said it’s barely audible. We’ve done everything—”
“*He* doesn’t hear it at night! Turn it off, or I’ll have the constable on you!”
Alex sighed and switched it off. They slept with the fan again.
Gradually, Emily noticed Margaret wasn’t exactly quiet herself. Sometimes, her phone calls echoed through the building—even at night. Her voice would spiral into shrieks.
“You call yourself a daughter! Only time you need me is for money!” Margaret screeched. “Everyone’s abandoned me! *Everyone*!”
Emily tried not to listen, but the noise was unavoidable. Afterwards, she’d feel oddly unsettled—like she’d been dragged into someone else’s drama.
One sleepless night, the fan whirring beside her, Emily remembered falling asleep to drills and muffled music in their old place. Not loud—but there.
They’d never complained. They understood: flats meant noise. Everyone inconvenienced everyone else, yet somehow, people coped.
Everyone except Margaret.
Late August brought a sweltering spell, so when Emily’s parents invited them to their country cottage, they didn’t hesitate. Out there, it was cool. Sure, they’d sweat weeding the garden, but at least Margaret wouldn’t hound them.
They packed in an hour, unplugged everything, even the AC. The evening was bliss—corn on the cob, laughter on the porch. Their only debate was whether to barbecue sausages or fish the next day.
It felt like paradise. Until 1:30 a.m.
Alex’s phone buzzed. He grabbed it, groggy, expecting an alarm—then saw the name. He cursed under his breath.
“Her again?” Emily muttered.
“Yep.”
“Christ, what *now*?”
Emily propped herself up. Was there a burst pipe? Why else would Margaret call at this hour?
Alex answered, bracing for another row.
“Hello?”
“Are you *kidding* me?!” Margaret’s voice was ragged. “That *thing* is on again! I haven’t slept a wink! This is outrageous!”
Alex paused. Emily scanned the room. No, they were definitely at her parents’.
“Margaret… Hate to break it to you, but we’re not home. We’re in the country. The flat’s empty. Everything’s off—we checked.”
“Liar!” Margaret cut in. “I can *hear* it! I’ll have a heart attack at this rate—then you’ll pay my medical bills in court!”
Emily wanted to snap back, but arguing with Margaret was impossible. Half a minute of insults later, the line went dead.
Alex set the phone down and rubbed his face. Emily rolled her eyes.
“Even *here* she won’t leave us alone… Alex, she’s unhinged. You see that, right?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t make it easier.”
The next morning, Emily’s mum headed into town for a doctor’s appointment. Emily asked her to check their flat on the way back. Maybe Margaret wasn’t *entirely* wrong—had someone broken in? Had they forgotten the AC?
Her mum called straight after.
“Em, it’s all off. Silent. Just the fridge humming—and only if you stand right next to it.”
“Right. So… it’s not the AC,” Emily concluded.
That unsettled her more. A cranky neighbour was one thing. A delusional one? Worse.
It wasn’t the noise. It was *them*. Their very existence annoyed Margaret.
And the unfairness rankled. They’d lost sleep, woke with headaches, called technicians, even considered a new AC. They’d been polite, patient—for what? To please someone who couldn’t *be* pleased?
“Em, she’s tormenting us. I’ve had enough,” Alex said as they packed for home. “I’m blocking her. And disconnecting the doorbell—otherwise, I’ll lose my mind *with* her.”
Emily agreed. She’d had the same thought.
“I’ll block her too. If it’s important, they’ll knock. We’ve still got the peephole. And no answering the door after ten.”
Blocking MargaretAfter that, they slept soundly—cool, undisturbed, and blissfully free of Margaret’s midnight tirades.
