**Diary Entry – 12th March**
Bloody hell, what a morning. “Morning,” I muttered to Emily and Sophie as I slumped into my desk chair and fired up the computer.
“Morning,” they chimed back, exchanging looks. Usually, I’m the chatty one—easygoing, keeping the peace. But not today. Outside, the sky was the same dull grey as my mood, drizzle tapping at the windows. Silence settled over the office until Emily, who can’t stand quiet for long, piped up.
“Fancy a cuppa? I’ll get the kettle on.” She wandered over to the little corner where we keep the coffee machine, mugs, and a tin of biscuits.
“Go on then,” Sophie agreed. I stayed quiet.
There are three of us in the office—me, married with a son, thirty years old. Emily, thirty-six, married with two kids. Sophie, twenty-seven, not married but living with her bloke. Emily’s the go-getter, always the first to suggest something, probably because she’s the eldest.
She came back with a tray of coffees. I took mine with a nod while Sophie grinned. “Cheers, Em. You’re our resident caretaker.”
They laughed. I managed a half-smile.
Emily sighed. “Alright, out with it. What’s the matter? You’re giving me the proper hump sitting there like a storm cloud.”
“It’s nothing to do with you,” I said. “Just family nonsense.”
“Row with James?” Sophie asked, surprised. They all knew my husband and I got on like a house on fire—hardly ever a cross word.
“Not him. His brother’s wife, Alice.”
“Ah. Bloody Alice again.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Ignore her.”
“How?” I snapped. “We live in the same bloody cul-de-sac. James’s dad built our houses side by side before he passed. We’ve been neighbours for ten years now. And Alice—well, she’s a force of nature.”
Things weren’t always this way. When I married James, his dad had just finished our house next to his. His older brother, David, lived in the other with Alice and their kids. Both houses were solid, well-built—his dad had been a foreman, got materials cheap. Then, a week after our wedding, his parents died in a crash. So there we were, two young families, side by side.
At first, it was fine. Alice and I even had kids around the same time—my son, her daughter. We joked about raising them together. James, ever the quiet one, just shrugged. “It is what it is.”
But as the years went on, I realised Alice and I couldn’t be more different. I’m the sort who likes quiet evenings in, just me, James, and our boy. Alice? She’s all noise, all the time. Never stops. “We should live in each other’s pockets,” she’d say. “We’re family!”
To me, family was my husband and son. Extended family? That’s different. But Alice didn’t see it that way. Worse, she acted like the bloody queen of the cul-de-sac, flouncing into our house unannounced, never mind if we were in the middle of something.
Take last Sunday. I love my quiet mornings—up before everyone, cup of tea, watching the sunrise. Then suddenly—*bang*—Alice’s face at the window. “Oh, you’re awake! Pour me one, will you?” And in she’d march, clattering about while James and our boy were still asleep. “Ooh, you’ve made breakfast! Mind if I join?”
Like hell I minded. But what could I say? If I made excuses, she’d sulk—”Too good for me now, are you?”—and stomp off, making life awkward all day.
David, at least, *gets* it. Once, I overheard him telling her off—”Alice, you wouldn’t like it if they barged in like that!”—but she just shot him down. Typical.
Then last night. We’d ordered a takeaway—posh sushi, treat for our boy getting top marks at school. I stepped out to grab the delivery, and who comes flying out? Alice, screeching, “You got sushi and didn’t tell me? Bloody selfish, you lot!” Swearing, slamming doors—full-blown tantrum. James and David had to drag her inside.
I burst into tears. “Why does she think she’s entitled to every bloody detail of our lives?”
James held me while I sobbed. “She’s just… Alice.”
And that’s the problem.
This morning, I told the girls everything. Emily nearly spat out her tea. “Ten years of that? I’d have barred her from my house years ago!”
Sophie nodded. “Just cut her off. You’ve got your own family.”
Easy for them to say. But I’ve had enough.
**Lesson learnt:** Family doesn’t mean letting someone trample your peace. Next time Alice kicks off, I won’t be so polite. Sod being the bigger person—sometimes, you’ve got to plant your feet.
