Sophie was the first to unlock the door and froze on the threshold. From inside came the muffled sound of the television, the murmur of voices in the kitchen, and an unfamiliar smell. Behind her, Tom nearly dropped the suitcase in shock.
Quiet, she whispered, stretching a hand back. Theres someone in there.
On their favourite beige sofa sprawled two strangers: a man in jogging bottoms flicking through TV channels, beside him a plump woman knitting. On the coffee table were mugs, plates with crumbs, and some boxes of pills.
Excuse me, who are you? Sophies voice trembled.
The strangers turned, completely unembarrassed.
Oh, youre back, said the woman, not pausing her knitting. Were Jeans relatives. She gave us the keys, said the owners were away.
Toms face went white.
Jean who?
Your mum, replied the man at last, standing up. Weve come from Reading, bringing our son Daniel up for an appointment. She let us stay, told us you wouldnt mind.
Sophie walked slowly into the kitchen. At the cooker stood a teenage boy, about fifteen, frying sausages. The fridge was stuffed with food that wasnt theirs. Dirty dishes stacked on the table in a messy heap.
And you are? she stammered.
Daniel, the boy turned to look at her. Isnt it alright to eat? Grandma Jean said it was fine.
Sophie hurried back to the hall, where Tom was already fumbling with his mobile.
Mum, what on earth have you done? His voice was low and tight with anger.
The cheerful voice of his mother came through the speaker:
Tom, youre home! How was your trip? Listen, I gave Jeanette your keys, she and David are up in London, brought Daniel for clinic appointments. Thought, well, you werent in, flats empty, waste not, want not. Its just for a week.
Mum, did you ask us?
Why would I need to ask? You were away. Just tell them Ill see the places sorted before they go.
Sophie snatched the phone:
Jean, are you serious? You let strangers into our home?
What strangers? Thats my cousin Jeanette! We grew up together, shared a bunk bed as kids.
What does that matter? This is our flat!
Sophie, dont get your knickers in a twist. Theyre family, theyll keep it tidy. Daniels not well, they needed help. Or are you just that mean?
Tom took the phone back:
Mum, youll come here in an hour and take them all back with you.
But Tom, theyre supposed to stay till Thursday! Daniels got tests and appointments. They did look at hotels, I just thought Id help them save a few quid.
Mum, you have an hour. Otherwise Ill call the police.
He hung up. Sophie sank onto the pouffe in the hallway, face in hands. Their suitcases sat unopened. The TV blared from the lounge; sausages sizzled in the kitchen. Just two hours ago theyd been on a flight, dreaming of coming home at last. Now she sat in her own flat, feeling like an unwelcome intruder.
Well get our things together, the woman from the sofa appeared, looking a bit ashamed. Jean thought you really wouldnt mind. Wed have called ourselves, but didnt have your number. She offered, we said yes. Just a week for the hospital stuff.
Tom was standing by the window, silent, his back rigid. Sophie recognised the looka stiffness he always showed when angry at his mother, unsure how to say it.
Wheres our cat? she suddenly remembered.
Cat?
Ginger. We left the keys for her.
We havent seen a cat, Jeanette shrugged, glancing at the man.
Sophie ran to look. She found Ginger wedged deep beneath the bed, eyes huge and fur on end. When Sophie reached out, the cat hissed and flattened her ears.
Its me, darling, Sophie lay down beside the bed. Youre alright now.
The cat stared at her, wary. The scent in the room was off. Drug packets littered her nightstand. The bed had been made differently than usual, someones slippers abandoned on the floor.
Tom came and crouched beside her.
Sorry.
What for? You didnt know.
For my mum. For all this.
She always thinks she knows best.
Shes always been like this, Tom fumed. Remember when we first moved in and shed drop by without warning? I thought Id explained. Obviously not.
Voices sounded in the hallway. His mum had arrived. Sophie stood, brushed back her hair, and went to face her.
Jean stood in the hallway, indignant.
Tom, are you mad?
Mum, please take a seat, Tom said, pointing to the kitchen.
Sit down? Jeanette, David, pack up, were being thrown out. Well go to mine.
Mum, sit down, Tom repeated.
Jean clocked the seriousness in his face and fell silent. The three went to the kitchen. Daniel finished his sausages nervously.
Mum, Tom sat opposite, how could you possibly think it was alright to let people stay in our flat without telling us?
I was just helping! Jeanette rang in tears, Daniel was so unwell, and they had nowhere in London. I thought, youre away, so why not?
Mum, this isnt your place.
Of course it is! Ive got keys.
Youve got keys to feed the cat, not to run a guest house.
Tom, honestly. Its family! Jeanettes my cousin since we were tots. Davids a good man, works hard. Daniels sick, they needed a break. What are you telling mekick them out on the street?
Sophies hands shook as she poured herself a glass of water.
Jean, you never asked us.
Why would I, when you werent even here?
Thats exactly why you shouldve, Toms voice rose. You couldve rung or texted. Wed have sorted something out.
And what would you have saidno?
Possibly. Or maybe a couple of days, with ground rules. At least then wed know what was going on. Thats respect.
Jean stood up:
Always the same. I try to help, and get it all thrown back at me. Jeanette, come on, well leave.
Mum, your flats only got one bedroom. You said yourself its too small for four.
Well manage. Better than staying where were clearly not wanted.
Sophie put her glass down.
Jean, please. You know you were in the wrong, otherwise youd have rung us first. You knew we wouldnt be happy, so you just went ahead, figuring we wouldnt turn them out.
Jean froze for a moment.
I meant well.
No. You wanted things done your way. Theres a difference.
For the first time, Jean looked lost.
She rang me in tears… Daniels pain was awful. I just felt sorry for her.
We understand, Tom replied. But you cant make decisions about whats not yours. Just imagine, I came to your place while you were away, and gave it to my friends for a week, no warning. How would you feel?
Id be furious.
Exactly.
They sat in silence. In the lounge were noises of packing; Jeanette sniffled, David silently zipped bags. Daniel loitered in the kitchen doorway, eyes glued to the floor.
Sorry, the boy muttered. I didnt know. Grandma said it would be alright.
Sophie looked at himjust an ordinary, worried kid. It wasnt his fault grownups couldnt manage things properly.
Its not your fault, she said quietly. Go help your parents pack.
Jean dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
I honestly thought it was being helpful. Didnt even cross my mind to ask. Youre still my childrenI always did everything for you.
Were not kids, Mum. Were thirty, weve our own lives now.
I see, Jean stood uncertainly. Will you want your keys back?
We will, Sophie nodded. Sorry, but we cant trust you now.
I suppose youre right.
Jeanettes family packed up quickly, apologising awkwardly as they left. Jean took them off to her own flat, promising to work out the sleeping arrangements. Tom closed the door behind them and leaned on it, exhausted.
They wandered through the place. The bedding needed changing, the fridge sorting out. Everywhere were the traces of strangersa scarf forgotten, furniture dragged aside, dirty plates. Ginger still cowered beneath the bed, refusing to come out.
Do you think shes understood? Sophie asked as she opened the kitchen window.
No idea. I hope so.
And if not?
Then well be firm. Im not letting this happen again.
She hugged him. They stood together in the chaos of their own home, saying nothing.
You know what stings most? Sophie finally said, pulling away. The cat. We did all this for her, left Jean the keys. And shes been scared and hungry, shut in while that circus was going on.
Do you think they even fed her?
Doesnt look like it. Bowls empty, waters filthy. Mustve been ignored.
Tom knelt by the bed.
Ginger, sorry, love. We wont be leaving Grandma the keys again.
The cat peered out warily, gradually crept over, and rubbed against his legs. Sophie brought her some food and she ate greedily, as though she hadnt been fed for days.
They began to put the place right. They binned the strangers food from the fridge, stripped the bed, washed up. Ginger, finally content, curled up asleep on the windowsill. Bit by bit, their flat became theirs again.
That evening, Jean called. Her voice was hushed and apologetic:
Tom, Ive been thinking. You were right. Im sorry.
Thank you, Mum.
Is Sophie angry with me?
He looked at his wife; she nodded.
She is. But shell forgive, given time.
After the call, they sat for ages at the kitchen table, nursing mugs of tea in silence. Dusk deepened outside. Their home was clean again; it was their own, finally. The holiday had come to a sudden and brutal end.
