Strangers in Our Flat Katya was the first to open the door and froze on the threshold. From inside the flat came the sound of the television, voices chatting in the kitchen, and a strange smell. Behind her, Maksim nearly dropped his suitcase in shock. “Quiet,” she whispered, extending her arm. “Someone’s here.” On the beige sofa—their favourite—lounged two total strangers. A tracksuit-clad man clicked through the channels on the remote, beside him sat a plump woman knitting. Cups, plates with crumbs, and various medicines littered the coffee table. “Sorry, who are you?” Katya’s voice trembled. The strangers turned, completely unfazed. “Oh, you’re home,” said the woman, not even pausing her knitting. “We’re Lida’s relatives. She gave us the keys and said there were no owners here.” Maksim blanched. “What Lida?” “Your mum,” the man finally stood. “We’re from Bristol—here with Misha for his check-ups. She put us up here, said you wouldn’t mind.” Katya walked slowly to the kitchen. At the stove, a teenage boy of about fifteen was frying sausages. The fridge brimmed with unfamiliar food. Dirty dishes were piled on the table. “And you are?” “Misha,” he turned. “What, can’t I eat? Grandma Lida said it was fine.” Katya returned to the hallway, where Maksim was already pulling out his phone. “Mum, what on earth are you doing?” His voice was quiet, but angry. From the phone came his mother’s breezy voice: “Maksim, you’re back? Did you enjoy your trip? Listen, I gave the keys to Svetlana, she and Vitya are in London, had to take Misha for some doctors. Thought, well, your flat’s empty, no point letting it go to waste? They’re just here for a week.” “Mum, did you ask us?” “Why ask? You weren’t there. Just tell them I’m responsible for the flat, so they’ll tidy when they leave.” Katya snatched the phone: “Lydia Petrovna, are you serious? You just let strangers stay in our home?” “What strangers? That’s my cousin Svetlana! We shared a bed as kids.” “And I’m supposed to care who you shared a bed with? This is our flat!” “Katya, don’t get worked up. Family, that’s all. They’re quiet, won’t break anything. Their boy’s sick, they needed help. Or are you that stingy?” Maksim took the phone back: “Mum, you’ve got one hour to come and take them out. All of them.” “But Maksim, they’re meant to stay until Thursday! Misha’s got tests, they needed the consultations. They booked a hotel, I just helped them save money.” “Mum. One hour. If you’re not here, I’ll call the police.” He hung up. Katya sank down onto the hall stool, face in her hands. Suitcases stood unpacked. The television murmured in the lounge, sausages sizzled in the kitchen. Two hours ago, they were on a plane, dreaming of being home at last. Now, she felt like an unwelcome guest in her own flat. “We’ll get ready,” the woman from the lounge appeared, sheepish. “Lida thought you wouldn’t mind. We would have asked, but didn’t have your number. Lida suggested, and we agreed. Thought we’d stay a week, do the hospital stuff.” Maksim stood silently by the window, tension written in his back. Katya knew it meant he was furious at his mother, but couldn’t say so out loud. “Where’s our cat?” she burst out, suddenly panicked. “What cat?” “Murzik. Ginger. We literally left keys for him.” “No idea,” Svetlana shrugged. “We haven’t seen him.” Katya combed the flat. She found the cat wedged under the bed, fur bristled, eyes wide. When she tried to coax him out, he hissed. “Murzik, darling,” she lay on the floor. “It’s me. It’s okay.” He watched her warily. The room reeked of strangers. Unfamiliar pills cluttered her nightstand, the bed was made differently, someone else’s slippers littered the floor. Maksim squatted beside her. “Sorry.” “For what? You didn’t know.” “For my mum. For her being like this.” “She thinks she’s right.” “She always does,” he fumed. “Remember when we first moved, she barged in unannounced? I thought I’d explained—turns out not.” Voices echoed from the hallway. His mum had arrived. Katya stood, smoothed her hair, went out. Lydia Petrovna stood, indignant: “Maksim, are you mad?” “Mum, please, sit in the kitchen.” “Sit? Svetlana, Vitya, start packing, they’re kicking us out. We’ll go to mine.” “Mum, sit. Please.” She noticed his expression and finally fell silent. They all moved to the kitchen, where Misha finished off sausages. “Mum,” Maksim sat opposite her, “explain how you thought it was okay to let people in our flat without asking?” “I was helping! Svetlana phoned, crying—Misha’s ill, needed to come to London, nowhere to stay. Your flat was empty.” “Mum, it isn’t your flat.” “How’s it not mine? I’ve got keys.” “The keys—so you could feed the cat, not run a B&B.” “Maksim, it’s family! Svetlana’s my sister, we’ve always been close. Vitya’s a good lad, hard-working. Misha’s sick, needs help. And you’d turf them out?” Katya’s hands shook as she poured herself water. “Lydia Petrovna, you didn’t ask us.” “Why would I? You weren’t home!” “Which is exactly why you should have!” Maksim was raising his voice now. “We have phones! You could have called, texted—asked. Then we’d have decided.” “So you’d have just said no?” “Maybe. Or agreed for a couple of days, with conditions. But we’d have known. It’s called respect.” Lydia stood up: “Always the way. I try to help and get it thrown in my face. Svetlana, get your things; we’re off to mine.” “Mum, you’ve only got the one-bed. You said yourself it’s too small for four.” “We’ll cope. Better than with the ungrateful.” Katya set down her glass. “Lydia Petrovna, please. You know perfectly well you were wrong. Otherwise, you’d have phoned us.” Her mother-in-law stopped dead. “You knew we’d say no, that’s why you presented it as a fait accompli. You figured we’d come back, see them already here, and just put up with it. Right?” “I only wanted to help.” “No. You wanted it your way. That’s different.” For the first time, Lydia looked lost. “Svetlana was crying. Misha was really suffering. I felt sorry for them.” “And that makes sense,” said Maksim. “But it wasn’t yours to offer. Mum, how would you feel if I let my mates stay in your flat while you were away—without asking?” “I’d be furious.” “Exactly.” They sat in silence. In the lounge, the family started packing. Svetlana cried quietly, Vitya packed bags, Misha hovered at the kitchen door, eyes downcast. “Sorry,” mumbled the boy. “I thought it’d be okay. Grandma said.” Katya looked at him: just a scared kid. None of this was his fault. “You haven’t done anything wrong; go help your parents.” Lydia pulled out a handkerchief. “I really thought it was for the best. Didn’t cross my mind to ask. You’re my children, I’ve always done everything for you so I just thought…” “We’re not kids anymore, Mum. We’re thirty. We have our own lives.” “I understand,” Lydia stood. “Do you want your keys back?” “Yes,” Katya nodded. “Sorry, but we’ve lost trust.” “I get it.” Svetlana’s family left quickly, with long, awkward apologies. Lydia took them to hers, assuring them they’d squeeze in somehow. Maksim closed the door behind them and slumped against it. They wandered through the flat in silence. Fresh sheets were needed, the fridge had to be cleared out. Signs of other people everywhere: forgotten things, moved furniture, dirty dishes. Murzik still cowered under the bed. “Do you think she understood?” Katya asked, opening the kitchen window. “Don’t know. I’d like to think so.” “And if not?” “Then we’ll be firmer. I won’t let this happen again.” She hugged him amid the mess that wasn’t theirs but in their own home. “The worst bit?” she stepped back. “The cat. We did all this for him, and he’s been starving and terrified through this whole circus.” “Do you think they even fed him?” “Doesn’t look like it. His bowl’s empty, water filthy. Probably forgot about him.” Maksim knelt by the bed: “Murzik, I’m sorry mate. Mum’s not getting those keys again.” The cat cautiously stuck out his head, then crept out to rub against Maksim’s legs. Katya fetched some food, which he devoured like he hadn’t eaten in days. They set about cleaning. Threw away the strangers’ food, changed the bedding, washed up. Murzik ate and curled up asleep, flat once again their own. That evening, Lydia called. Her voice was quiet, apologetic: “Maksim, I’ve been thinking. You were right. I’m sorry.” “Thank you, Mum.” “Is Katya angry with me?” He looked at his wife, she nodded: “She is. But she’ll forgive you. In time.” Afterwards, they sat for a long time, drinking tea in silence. Twilight thickened beyond the windows. The flat was clean, quiet, theirs again. Their holiday had ended, suddenly and brutally.

It was Alice who first put her key in the door and immediately froze on the threshold. The faint sound of the television wafted from inside, along with muffled voices in the kitchen and a not-so-familiar smell. Behind her, Tom nearly dropped his suitcase out of sheer shock.

“Shh,” she hissed, stretching her arm in front of him. “Theres someone in there.”

There, sprawled contentedly across their beloved cream sofa, lounged two complete strangers. A man in trackies was clicking away at the remote, while next to him, a plump woman worked on a massive ball of knitting wool. The coffee table was littered with mugs, plates covered in crumbs, and a suspicious little collection of medicine bottles.

“Sorry, butwho are you?” Alices voice trembled.

The strangers looked over, thoroughly unembarrassed.

“Oh, youre back,” said the woman without even pausing her knitting. “Were Susans cousins. She gave us the keys. Said you wouldnt be home.”

Tom turned an unpleasant shade of grey.

“Susan who?”

“Your mum, of course,” said the man, finally heaving himself upright. “Weve come down from Newcastle for some appointments with Jamie. She said you wouldnt mind. Theres loads of room.”

Alice tiptoed into the kitchen, where a teenager of about fifteen was frying sausages. The fridge fairly groaned with unfamiliar groceries, and the kitchen table resembled a badly-organised antiques fair, piled high with dirty plates.

“And who are you supposed to be?” she sputtered.

“Jamie,” replied the lad, not looking up. “What, Im not allowed a snack? Nan Susan said it was fine.”

She returned to the hallway, where Tom was already rummaging through his bag for his phone.

“Mum, whats going on?” His voice was low but laced with venom.

From the phone, Susans voice soared bright and chipper:

“Tommy, youre home! Good break? Listen, I gave the keys to Sue and Philtheyre in London with Jamie for the hospital. Place would just sit empty otherwise; waste of a good flat. Only for a week.”

“Mum, did you actually ask us?”

“Why would I need to ask? You werent there! Just tell them I take care of it all, and to tidy up before they go.”

Alice grabbed the phone:

“Mrs. Brown, are you serious? You let strangers into our flat?”

“Strangers? Thats my cousin Sue! We shared a bunk bed when we were little!”

“How is that relevant? Its our home!”

“Now, Alice, dont get worked up. Its family! Theyre as quiet as mice, wont break a thing. Poor Jamies not wellneeded a little help. Or are you always this stingy?”

Tom took the phone back:

“Mum, youll come and pick them up in an hour. All of them.”

“But Tom, thats silly! Jamies tests arent til Thursday! They did try hotelscouldnt afford London prices. I was just saving them a bit of cash.”

“In one hour. Or Ill call the police.”

He ended the call. Alice slumped onto the hallway ottoman, head in hands. Their suitcases sat untouched, the TV jabbered away from the living room, sausages sizzled in the kitchen. Two hours ago, theyd both been daydreaming on a flight about finally getting home. And now, here she was: an intruder in her own flat.

Well get our things together, the woman from the living room appeared in the corridor, looking only a little sorry. Susan thought youd be all right with it. We tried to ring but didnt have your number. Susan offered, so we came. Just thought wed stay for Jamies appointments.

Tom stood glaring out the window, his back so rigid Alice knew he was fuming at his mum but had no idea how to say it.

Andwheres our cat? Alice gasped suddenly.

Cat?

Ginger. We gave Susan the keys for him.

Dunno, shrugged Sue. Not seen a cat.

Alice dashed off. She found Ginger huddled under the bed in their room, wide-eyed, fur standing on end. She tried to coax him out; he replied with a ferocious hiss.

Ginger, love, its me. Youre safe.

He eyed her suspiciously. The bedroom stank of strangers, someones pills were on her bedside table, and the bedding was tucked in all wrong. Someone elses slippers poked out from under the dressing table.

Tom knelt beside her.

Sorry.

For what? You didnt know this would happen.

For my mum. For her being like this.

She soaks in her own righteousness.

Shes always been like this, Tom fumed. Remember when we first moved in? Shed just show up, no warning? Thought Id made it clear you cant do that. Guess not.

Voices drifted from the hall. Susan had arrived. Alice stood, straightened her hair, and braced herself.

Mrs. Brown bustled in with a look that would curdle milk.

Tom, have you lost your mind?

Mum, take a seat, said Tom, nodding toward the kitchen.

No time to sit. Sue, Phil, start packinglooks like were being turfed out. Well go to mine.

Mum, sit down.

At last, Susan noticed Toms expression and fell silent. The three of them filed into the kitchen, where Jamie was mopping up the last bits of sausage.

Mum, said Tom, sitting opposite her. Please tell me how you thought it was okay to let people into our home without asking?

I was just helping! Sue rang crying about Jamieshe needed somewhere. Its not like you were here

But its not your flat.

Of course it is! Ive got keys, havent I?

The keys are for feeding the cat. Not running a B&B.

Oh, dont be so melodramatic! Its family! Sue is my cousin, weve been inseparable since childhood. Phils a good worker, Jamies not wellwhat was I supposed to do, kick them out on the street?

Alice poured herself a glass of water, hands shaking.

You just never asked us.

Wouldnt have thought Id need to when you were away, Susan huffed.

Thats *exactly* when you should have asked, Tom raised his voice. Its called respect. You could have phoned or messaged. Wed have talked it through.

And what would you have said? No?

Maybe. Or maybe yes, but only a couple of daysand with warning. At least wed know, Mum. Its about trust.

Susan stood:

This is what I get for helping people. Sue, start packingwell squeeze into mine.

Mum, you said your place barely fits you, let alone another three people.

Well manage. As long as were not a burden.

Alice set her glass down.

Please, Mrs. Brown, stop it. You know this wasnt right. Otherwise youd have called first. But you put us in front of a done dealfigured wed show up, see your family everywhere and just go along.

I was trying to help.

No, you were doing things your way. Thats not the same.

For the first time, Susan looked caught out.

Sue was in tears, Jamie was in painI just wanted to be nice.

Thats totally understandable, Tom said gently, but this wasnt your call. Imagine if we barged into your flat while you were away, handed it over to my uni friends without a word. How would you feel?

Id be livid.

Exactly.

Silence lingered. Out in the living room, the sound of hasty packing. Sue sniffled, Phil stuffed bags, Jamie loitered in the doorway.

Sorry, mumbled Jamie. I of thought it would be all right Nan said it was.

Alice gave him a tired look. Normal kid, scared and embarrassed. It wasnt his fault the grown-ups couldnt work things out.

Its not your fault, she assured him softly. Go give your parents a hand.

Susan dabbed at her eyes.

I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. Never crossed my mind to askyoure my children, I always act for you, I suppose I just thought

Were not children, Mum, Tom sighed. Were thirty. Weve got our own lives.

Susan got her bag.

Shall I hand over the keys?

Yes, Alice nodded firmly. Sorry, but youve lost our trust now.

I understand.

Sues family shuffled out looking sheepish, their goodbyes clumsy and awkward. Susan whisked them off to her place, promising shed make do somehow. Tom saw them to the door, then leaned against it, eyes closed.

They wandered around the flat, inspecting the chaos. The bed needed fresh sheets, the fridge a full clear-out. Clues of the visitors everywhereabandoned slippers, the misplaced armchair, a stack of dirty mugs. Ginger still sulked under the bed, refusing to move.

Think she gets it now? Alice asked, opening the kitchen window for some honest air.

Who knows? I have to hope so.

And if not?

We draw the line. This wont happen again.

She slipped her arms round him. Together, surrounded by other peoples clutter in their own home, they stood in silence.

Do you know whats really annoying? Alice finally said, pulling back. Its the cat. We went to all this effort for him. Meanwhile, hes been terrified, starving, while our place turned into a hostel.

Did they even feed him, do you think?

Not likely. His bowls bone dry, waters cloudy. They didnt even notice the poor thing.

Tom slid under the bed.

Ginger, mate, Im so sorry. Never again, promise. No more giving Gran your key.

Ginger poked out his fuzzy face, then slowly crawled over and rubbed against Toms leg. Alice fetched him a feasthe wolfed it down like he hadnt eaten in years.

They got to work tidying up. Out went the unfamiliar groceries; the sheets were stripped, the plates scrubbed. Ginger curled up, finally at peace, in his favourite spot on the window ledge. Bit by bit, the flat started feeling like theirs again.

That evening, Susan rang. Her voice was quiet. Hesitant.

Tom, Ive been thinking. You were right. Im sorry.

Thank you, Mum.

Alice still cross?

Tom looked at his wifeshe gave a resigned nod.

Shes cross. But shell forgive you. Give it time.

Afterwards, they sat side by side in the kitchen, drinking endless tea in silence. Outside, the night crept in. The flat was quiet, clean, and finally theirs again. Their holiday was overabruptly, and savagelybut at least they were home.