Well stay here until summer!: how I gave my husbands cheeky relatives the boot and changed the locks.
The intercom didnt just buzz that morningit all but howled, shrill and insistent. I glanced at the clock: seven oclock, Saturday. The one morning Id dreamt of having a proper lie-in after the stress of closing the quarterly accounts, rather than opening my door to visitors. The screen showed the unmistakable face of my sister-in-law. Sarah, my husband Edwards sister, looked every bit like someone about to lay siege to the Tower of London, with three rumpled heads bobbing behind her.
Edward! I barked without even lifting the receiver. Your lot are here. You deal with them.
He emerged from the bedroom in a panic, wrestling with his shortsbackwards, I noticed. He knew a certain tone from me meant my patience with his family had worn thinner than tracing paper. While he mumbled helplessly into the intercom, I waited in the hallway, arms folded over my chest. My homemy rules. Id bought this three-bedroom flat in central London years before our wedding, working myself to the bone to pay off the mortgage. The last thing I wanted was strangers treating it as their own.
The door swung open and, with the grace of a stampede, in marched the whole crew. Sarah, laden with bags, didnt even offer a greetingshe shunted me aside with her hip as though I were a piece of furniture.
Oh, thank heavens, weve finally made it! she puffed, dumping her things onto the Italian tiled floor. Alison, why are you standing there like a statue? Put the kettle on, the kids are starving after the journey.
Sarah, I said, my voice steady, though Edward shrank into his shoulders. What is the meaning of this?
What, Edward didnt say? she asked innocently, eyes round as saucers. Were having the whole house renovatedpipes, floors, everything. The mess is unbearableits like living in a building site. We just need to put our heads down here for a week. Its hardly cramped in this palatial placelook at all the space lying unused.
My eyes cut to Edward. He stared fixedly at the ceiling, most likely picturing his own execution later that evening.
Edward?
Alison, really he bleated, shes my sister. Where are they meant to go with all the dust and building noise? Its just for a week.
A week, I repeated crisply. Exactly seven days. You sort out your own meals. No children running wild, no touching the walls, and no one gets within a yard of my study. Silence after ten oclock.
Sarah rolled her eyes, pulling a face. Youre such a sourpuss, Alison. Honestly, you sound like a prison warden. Fine, agreednow, where are we sleeping? I hope not on the floor?
And so began my personal nightmare.
A week turned into two, and then three. My flat, once immaculate with the help of a designer, devolved into chaos. The hallway became a mountain of dirty shoes I kept tripping over. The kitchen was a disastergrease stains on the stone counters, crumbs everywhere, sticky coffee rings. Sarah behaved, not like a guest, but like the mistress of a manor house, with the rest of us reduced to servants.
Alison, is the fridge always this empty? she declared one evening, peering into the bare shelves. The children need yoghurts, and Edward and I could do with a proper bit of meat now and then. Youre well-off; you might at least take care of family.
You have a bank card, there are shops, I replied, not even looking up from my laptop. Go. Theres even 24-hour delivery.
Miser, she muttered, slamming the fridge door until the jars rattled. Cant take it with you when youre gone, you know.
But that wasnt the breaking point.
One day, returning home early from work, I found the children in my bedroom. The eldest was bouncing on my orthopaedic mattresswhich cost about as much as a second-hand carand the youngest Well, she was joyfully drawing all over my bedroom wall. With my lipstick. Tom Ford, limited edition.
Out! I roared so fiercely they shot off in separate directions.
Sarah appeared at the sound, and upon seeing the smeared wall and ruined lipstick, she merely threw up her hands. Oh, why are you yelling? Theyre just kids! Its a scribble. Youll clean it off. And as for your lipstickits just a bit of fancy grease. Buy yourself another, you wont starve. By the way, weve been thinkingthis renovation is dragging on, our builders are utter cowboys. We might as well stay until summer. Its not like you two need all this space to yourselves, and things are far more lively with us about!
Edward stood by, mutea limp lettuce of a man.
I said nothing. Instead, I retreated to the bathroom before I could be tempted into something worthy of a criminal record. I needed to cool off.
That evening, Sarah left her phone on the kitchen table while she went for a shower. The screen lit up with a notificationbold letters across the lock screen. A message from Mary Lettings:
Sarah, Ive transferred next months rent. The tenants are happymay they extend their stay until August?
Followed swiftly by a notification from her bank: Deposit received: +£850.
Suddenly, everything clicked. There was no renovation. The cheek of it! Shed let her own flat out by the month and moved in here to live at my expense, pocketing the savings on groceries and utilities, collecting passive income, and helping herself to my home on the side. A little money-making schemebrilliant, really. If it hadnt been at my expense.
My hands didnt shake as I snapped a photo of her phone. Instead, I felt a chilly, righteous calm settle over me.
Edward, come into the kitchen, I called.
He walked in, and I silently showed him the picture. He went red, then white.
Alison, there must be some mistake?
The mistake, I said, coolly, is that you havent put them out yet. You have a choice. By lunchtime tomorrow, either theyre gone, or you arealong with your mother, your sister, and the rest of the circus.
But where will they go?
Not my concern. Under Waterloo Bridge, or into the Ritz if they can afford it. I dont care.
The next morning, Sarah breezed in as though nothing had happened, babbling about having spotted some darling boots whilst out window shopping (with her letting profits, no doubt). Shed generously left the children with Edward, whod taken the day off.
I waited until the door clicked shut behind her.
Edward, take the children out for a long walk in the park.
Why?
Because its time for a deep-cleaninggot some vermin to clear out.
Once Edward and the kids had disappeared down in the lift, I picked up my phone. First call, the locksmith. Second, our local police constable.
The age of hospitality was over. The reclamation had begun.
Alison, what if its a misunderstanding? Edwards voice echoed through my head as I watched the locksmith change the locks cylinder.
No misunderstanding. Just cold, hard sense.
The locksmith, a strapping bloke with a tattoo, worked fast.
Good door, he remarked. But this lockpractically impenetrable now.
Just what I want: security.
I transferred him a payment hefty enough for a fine meal out, though the peace of mind was priceless.
Then, I turned to the stuff itself. No sentimentality. I took out my biggest bin bags and swept in all Sarahs thingsher bras, childrens tights and scattered toys. No folding, just stuffing. Her entire arsenal of cosmeticsall into one bag.
Within forty-five minutes, a heap of five black plastic sacks stood outside in the stairwell, the two suitcases beside them.
By the time the lift dinged and our local constable arrived, I was standing ready with my title deeds and identification at the door.
Good day, Officer, I said, handing over the papers. I own this flat; Im the sole legal resident. Some people may try to enter unlawfully shortlythey have no right to be here. Id like you to note their attempted trespass.
He, a weary young fellow, flipped through my documents.
Relatives?
Former ones, I smiled. Our property disputes rather escalated.
Sarah returned an hour later, arms weighed down with posh shopping bags, beaminguntil she saw me, the policeman, and the pile of bin bags.
Whats all this? she shrieked.
Your belongings, I replied, arms folded. Take them, and go. The inns closed.
She tried to shoulder her way inside, but the officer blocked her.
Hold on, miss. Are you resident here? Have registration?
IIm the wifes sister-in-law! Were just staying a few days! Red spots flared up on her cheeks. What are you playing at, Alison? Wheres Edward? Ill ring him and hell put a stop to this!
Go ahead, I said. But dont expect an answer. Hes out, explaining to the children why their mother is so enterprising.
She tried his numberring, ring, voicemail. Edward, at long last, had found some backboneor maybe just feared losing everything in a divorce.
You cant do this! Sarah burst out, dropping her bags in a fury. Out tumbled a box with brand new shoes. Weve nowhere to go! Ive got children, for heavens sake!
Dont lie, I said, stepping closer. Give my regards to Mary. Ask if the tenants in your flat need a further extension. Or will you have to go live there yourself?
She froze, deflated. The bluster evaporated.
Howhow did you?
Maybe secure your phone next time, business tycoon. You spent a month here at my expense, ate my food, trashed my flat, while letting yours for pocket money? Resourceful, Ill give you that. Now listen well.
I lowered my voice, every word slicing through the air: Youre going to take your bags and leave. If I so much as see you or your brood within a mile of my door, Ill write to the tax office about your undeclared income. And Ill file a report about a stolen gold ringI imagine the police might search these bags if it comes to that.
(The ring was, of course, safe in my jewellery box. She didnt know that.)
You heartless cow, Alison, she hissed. God will judge you!
Gods busy, I told her icily, and my flat is free at last.
She staggered away, cursing, juggling her bags, nearly in tears as she hurried to call a cab. The constable looked on in dull amusement, almost glad not to have to fill in any forms.
Once the lift doors had shut behind Sarah and her abandoned plans, I turned to the officer.
Thank you for your help.
Anytime, he said, grinning crookedly. Just keep your locks tight.
I closed the door behind me, the new lock snapping home with a satisfying, solid sound. The scent of detergent hung sharp in the airthe cleaning crew had already moved on from the kitchen to the bedroom.
Edward returned two hours later. Alone. Hed handed the kids over to Sarah while she was loading up her cab. He entered warily, as if expecting an ambush.
Alison shes gone.
I know.
She was yelling all sorts about you
I dont care what rats shriek when theyre forced off a ship.
Sitting at the kitchen table, I took a sip of freshly brewed coffee from my favourite (now intact) mug. No more lipstick drawings on the walls; everything was wiped clean. The fridge was entirely mine again.
Did you know about her letting out her flat? I asked without looking up.
No! Honestly, Alison, if Id known
If you had, youd probably have kept quiet about it, I stated. Listen closely. This is the last time. The next stunt from your family, and your suitcase will be out there with theirs. Understood?
He nodded quickly, fear plain on his face. He knew I meant every word.
I sipped my coffee.
It was perfect.
Hot, strong, and, most importantly, enjoyed in the blissful peace of my own flat.
And my crown? Still fits like a glove.
