**Unwelcome Guests**
The phone jolted Emily awake at five in the morning. An unknown number flashed on the screen.
“Yes?” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.
“Emily, love?” a loud, cheerful womans voice chirped. “Is that you?”
“It is,” Emily replied flatly.
“Its me!” the woman exclaimed. “Do you recognise me?”
Emily stifled a sigh. “I do,” she lied politely, though she hadnt the faintest idea who was calling.
“I knew youd remember!” the woman trilled. “So glad I caught you. Can you talk now?”
“I can.”
“Brilliant! Me, my husband, and the kids just got off the train at Kings Cross. Been here an hour already. Can you hear me alright?”
“Perfectly.”
“Your voice is a bit quiet. You sure youre all right, love?”
“Never better.”
“So glad to hear it. We were going to book a hotelthought we had no family in London. Then we remembered *you*! You see?”
“I see.”
“Honestly, what a relief! Youve no idea how thrilled we were, especially the kids.”
“I can imagine.”
“And my husband said straightaway, Ring Emily. Shed never let us down.”
“Hes right. I wouldnt.”
“So might we stay with you? If its no trouble?”
“No trouble at all.”
“We wont be long, promise!” the woman gushed. “Just a fortnightsee the sights, then home we go. You know what they say’East or west, home is best. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“We *knew* youd say yes. My husband especially. Emily would never turn us away, he said. Bloods thicker than water, even if we last saw you a decade ago! Right?”
“Right.”
“You still live alone?”
“I do.”
“In that three-bed flat?”
“Yes.”
“So well come round now?”
“Come round.”
“Be there in an hour. Still at the same place?”
“Still here.”
“Right thensee you soon!”
“See you,” Emily replied.
She ended the call, dropped the phone on the bedside table, rolled over, and yanked the duvet over her head. It didnt bother her much that she still hadnt worked out whod just phoned.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. Emily squinted at the clock, shut her eyes, and turned away. The phone buzzed again. She slept on.
Soon, fists pounded the door. Emily didnt stir. Finally, the phone rang once more.
“Yes?” she mumbled, eyes still closed.
“Emily, sweetheart?” the same woman cried.
“Yes.”
“Its us! Were here! Ringing and knocking, but youre not answering!”
“Youre ringing now?”
“Yes!”
“StrangeI cant hear it.”
“Try again!”
The doorbell chimed through the flat.
“Were ringing!” the woman insisted.
“No,” Emily said. “Still nothing. Try knocking.”
A thud echoed at the door.
“Were knocking!”
“Nope. Not a sound.”
“Blimey, Im all in a tizzy,” the woman fretted.
“What?” Emily asked.
“Where *are* you, love?”
“What dyou mean? At home.”
“Wheres home?”
“Manchester,” Emily said, plucking the first place that came to mind. “Where else?”
“*Manchester?* Why not London?”
“Moved nine years ago. Right after the divorce.”
“Why?”
“Why the divorce?”
“Why move?”
“Got sick of London. Too many bad memories.”
“Manchesters better?”
“Course. Miles better.”
“How?”
“Everything. Whatever I do. No ghosts here. But why prattle on? Come see for yourself. How many of you are there?”
“Four. Me, my husband, and the kidsOliver and little Alfie. Alfies trying for uni again this yearthird time lucky!”
“All four of you, then. Come along. Weve a cracking uni here too.”
“When should we come?”
“Nows fine.”
“Cant today. Heaps to sort in London. Alfie wont settle for anywhere else. We came up to find work, planned to stay with you a year. Butwell, you see how it is.”
“So youre not coming?”
“Afraid not.”
“Shame. Id got the spare rooms ready.”
“Oh, were gutted. Youve no idea.”
“I think I have.”
“No, *really*. The thought of whats aheadwell, it fair makes me want to curl up and die.”
Emily decided it was time to end this.
“Right then,” she said, “if not now, come when you can. Always happy to see you. Once youre settled in London, send your address. Ill pop down for a fortnight. Play it by ear. After all, youre all Ive got there now. Deal? Youll send the address?”
But Emily heard no replythe line had gone dead.
**Lesson learned:** Some phone calls are best left unanswered.
