Strangers Within Our Walls
You know, I sometimes find myself thinkingreally thinkingwhile polishing the same plate for the fifth time, that soon there wont even be a teaspoon in this flat thats truly ours. Everythings been taken over. Now, at night, as I lie in bed, I worry: are we making too much noise in whats supposed to be our own lounge, watching the telly too loudly? Are we disturbing them?
Viktor just stares out the window into the dark, quiet street, letting out a weary sigh from somewhere deep within.
Were the visitors now, arent we? he finally mutters, not looking my way, We, the homeowners, have become the guests. In our own kitchen.
Right on cue, from what was once our lounge, theres the delighted laughter of my niece, soon followed by that deep voice of her boyfriend. Theyre watching a film in there. Our former living room.
So thats how we sat: me at the table with a plate in my hand, Victor by the window, and all I could think was: how did it come to this? When did we end up so worried about flushing our own loo in our own flat, always afraid of disturbing someone? It all started so simply. Just a bit of family help, really.
It was late August, about eighteen months back, when my sister Margaret gave me a ring. I remember it well because I was up to my elbows in chutney jars, hair a mess and sweat running down my back. The phone began to ring, so I wiped my hands on my apron and picked up.
Hello, Jane, its Margaret. She sounded almost apologetic, which immediately put me on guard. Margaret never just rang for a chatfar too busy. She lives in Leeds and we talk, what, three times a year at most.
So you remember Emily, my eldest?
Of course I do, I replied. Is she all right?
Oh yes, shes fine. In fact, shes done brilliantlyshe got into university, your old Manchester. Got a scholarship too, clever thing. Only thing is, you know how uni halls work now, she wont get a place straight away. Not until the second term, maybe longer. So I was wondering You and Victor have that third bedroom, youre just the two of you rattling around. Perhaps you could put her down as living with youjust on paper, mind, so shes local for registration and the like. Shell be renting elsewhere with friends, not to worry, weve talked it all through.
I hesitated straight away. On one hand: family is family, and Emilys a bright, hard-working girlMargarets always gone on about her being top of the class. On the other: this just-on-paper business always makes me nervous. Victors always said, Dont put anyone down on the deeds, not even family, or youll never get them off again. Still, it was my niece, only for a bit, and I didnt want to seem cold-hearted to my own sister.
Are you sure, Margaret, shes already got a place sorted? Youre sure she wont just move in? I asked, as delicately as I could. Victor and I arent up for having someone here all the time, you know how it is.
Jane! Margaret laughed. Shes barely eighteen, she wants her freedom. Shes sharing a place with her mates, already sorting it out. Just need the local address for the official bitsuniversities are so strict now. Forms, stamps, registration. Thats all it is.
I promised Id discuss it with Victor. That evening, as soon as he got home, I explained everything. He frowned at once.
Dont do it, Jane. This stuff is serious. Youll never get her off the paperwork. Ive seen too many cases like thisyoull regret it.
Shes your niece though, I argued, Margarets girl. Its only for the university, shell live elsewhere.
Shell get the letter, then itll start: a bag to drop off, a night here because its too late to get home, maybe a friend over Dont, Jane.
But I couldnt quite shake the feeling that wed be mean if we said no. So the next morning, I called Margaret back. I agreed. Emily rang a few days laterwonderfully polite, well-spoken, all please and thank yous.
Aunt Jane, thank you so much for considering helping me. Ive already found a place with a couple of girls not far from campus. I just need an address for the admin. It wont be any bother at all. Maybe I could pop by, introduce myself, go through everything?
How could I refuse? She seemed so sincere. When Victor came home and heard Emily was coming by, he just threw up his hands.
Do as you like, he muttered, but remember, dont complain to me later.
September came and Emily appeared on our doorstep: tall, slim, in jeans and a crisp white shirt, a thick braid down her back. A lovely girl, really. Shed brought honey, some homemade jam, chocolatesa peace offering from Margaret.
She sat in the kitchen and told me all about her coursejournalismher big dream to work in TV. Her eyes lit up. Showed me photos of her tiny rented room in the student area with her two friends: three beds crammed in, but she was happy.
All I need is the address, Aunt Jane, she repeated, I wont be a bother, I promise, maybe just pop by for the odd letter.
When Victor came in, Emily stood politely and greeted him by name. He grunted, ate his dinner, and she made herself scarce.
The paperwork was sorted within three days. Victor added his reluctant signature and that was that. Emilys registration was for a year, nothing to it. I thought that was the endwed helped, she got what she needed, everyone happy.
But life rarely goes to plan.
Emily stayed away at first. One month, twothe occasional phone call, a card for my birthday. Margaret rang too, all thanks and shes doing brilliantly. I relaxed, started to think wed done the right thing.
Then, in November, Emily rang up, asking if she could stay for a few days. Shed fallen out with her flatmates: they were noisy, bringing boys home late, playing music till all hours. She said she needed to study for examscould she crash on our sofa? Of course I said yes. A student, after all, the poor thing.
She arrived that evening with the great rucksack again. Victor said nothing, simply compressed his lips. Emily put herself in the lounge, apologizing for the inconvenience, promising itd only be a week. She was quiet, didnt get underfoot, gone early to lectures, back late, then straight to the books. We started turning the TV off for her, so we didnt disturb her. Victor took to going to bed early. I stayed longer in the kitchen, busying myself.
The week dragged into two, then Emily explained that her January exams had begun and it wasnt the time to look for rooms. Fine, we thoughtcant chuck her out in the middle of winter.
After the holidays, Emily returned not only to lectures but with news: shed landed a part-time job at the local paper and wanted to start saving for an internship in London. She could help with the bills if she stayed. Margaret could no longer help her much from Leeds.
Aunt Jane, could I stay with you just a little longer? Ill pay towards the gas, the food, I promise not to be a burden. This jobs really important and I cant afford my own place yet.
When I told Victor, he lost his temper.
Jane! I said this would happen! he roared, quietly, as if Emily might overhear. First shes on the paperwork, then she lives here, what next? Shell move her furniture in?
Shes working hard, Victor, I tried to reason, though I felt the doubt myself. She pays what she can, shes no bother.
She gives us a paltry bit for the bills yet uses the whole house! Its nothing. Shes easing her own conscience, thats all.
I let the argument go. Deep down, I knew he was right. But I couldnt just throw the girl out. I dreaded ringing Margaret, not wanting her to call me heartless.
By February, Emily was properly settled in. Her things filled half the hall cupboard, boxes of textbooks piled up on the balcony. We even had her yogurt and ready meals filling a shelf of the fridge. Yes, she bought her own, but every so often our own supplies disappeared. Some sugar here, a loaf there; she replaced it, but still. There was a sense, unmistakable, that someone had moved inand it wasnt us.
Victor and I grew silent with one another. Short exchanges, never really speaking. He left for work early, came back late, straight to the bedroom. He said he was tired, but I knew it was just to keep away from Emily. She, Ill admit, did try not to show herself: softly spoken, always cleaning up, but it didnt help. She wasnt family anymoreshe was a lodger.
One evening, as I chopped veg, Emily quietly got water from the kettle shed bought herself (it heats faster, shed said). She had her own big mug, her own herbal tea. Everything was hers.
Emily, I asked, tired, are you looking for a room? Maybe things are calmer now at your old place?
She paused, smiled, I dont talk to those girls anymore, Aunt Jane. I am looking around, honestly, but nothings right: too expensive or too far. Heres just convenient. Everything close by. If you really want me gone, Ill try harder.
What could I say? Yes, its uncomfortable, please go? I just muttered, Start looking, yes, itll be better for you. But she waved it off and returned to her laptop in the lounge.
Im fine here, truly, I dont bother you.
It didnt bother her, but it changed everything for us. We spent evenings on the kitchen stools rather than our own sofa. TV almost untouched. Wed become scared to talk, lest we disturb her. In our home.
That evening, Victor whispered in the bedroom, Jane, dont you dare renew that paperwork in August. Tell her. She needs to find somewhere else.
I wont, I promised. But I wasnt sure how Id manage it, not really. She was registered to us, shed been here six months. Itd need a clear talk. I dreaded it. What if she was hurt? What if Margaret found out and shunned us? Family can be like thatalways expecting you to give.
March and April rushed past. Emily focused on another exam season and the part-time job. Sometimes shed be home at eleven, shattered, saying shed stayed late for the newspaper. Id lie in bed, listening to her typing, unable to sleep. It grated, honestly. Desperately wanted to say, Shut that down, some of us need sleep! But I never did.
Then, in May, came the last straw.
Emily brought round a boy. Tall, about twenty, with a trendy haircut and a black jacket. Introduced him as Adam, her friend from uni, theyd met at the paper, hes a page designer.
Aunt Jane, can he stay for a bit? Were working on a project. Not for long.
I shrugged, what could I say? Victor was still out. Emily and Adam took over the lounge, the two of them chatting, laughing. I sat in the kitchen, tea cooling, feeling my blood boil. Now she was having a lad round! In our lounge, on our sofa, among our things!
Victor returned, saw my face. What now? he asked.
Shes got a bloke in there, I muttered, says theyre working.
He turned crimson, said nothing, just stomped to the bedroom. Later, Emily apologised, said it wouldnt happen again. I tried to gently explain, Emily, this is awkwardthis is our flat, and youre practically a lodger bringing boys home.
Her mouth tightened, her lips quivered, Sorry, Aunt Jane. Adams good, really. Were just friends. I wont bring him round again.
But she did, a month later. And then it became a regular routine.
In June, her paperwork was due for renewal. She asked me to extend itjust one more academic year, Ill be gone by next autumn, promise, I just need to finish and sort things. I phoned Margaret. She sighed, Jane, bear with her a little longer. Shes a good girl, shell move out as soon as she can. Extend it, pleaseId hate for her to have trouble at uni, theyre so strict these days.
So I did. Victor flat out refused to signNot another year. No way. So, as sole owner, I went ahead anyway. I thought, Just one more year, shell finish university and go. How wrong I was.
That summer, Emily spent a month with Margaret. Victor and I let out a deep breaththe flat was ours again. We watched TV late, talked in the lounge, the tension gone. I even dared hope Emily might stay in Leeds, settle there.
By September, she was back. This time with two suitcasesher mother had sent more winter things. Shed decided, she said, to focus on getting a first-class degree. Which meant more time at her books, at home, naturally.
October, and Adam was back. I didnt hear the doorbell, just voices in the hallway, then laughter from the lounge. I went in, saw them on the sofa with a laptop, talking. Emily saw me, said, Aunt Jane, this is Adam, you remember. Can we just work here for a while?
Emily, we talked about this, bringing people over
Theyre not guests, Aunt Jane, its for work.
I had nothing left in me to argue, so I just turned and walked out.
Adam became a fixture, round at least twice a week, sometimes till late. Victor started arriving home later and later. Sorry, work held me up, hed say, but I knew the truth: he was avoiding it all. Avoiding them, and the feeling we’d lost our home.
One November night, after Adam had left and Emily came back from the kitchen, I sat her down.
Emily, listenwhen are you moving out? We cant live like this, its been over a year, and the flat just cant hold us all.
Suddenly, her politeness snapped. She looked me right in the eye: I am looking, Aunt Jane, but everywheres expensive or rubbish. Its not fairthis is convenient, I pay my share, Im out of the way. Is it that bad for you?
It is, I said, honestly. Victor and I have got used to our peace. Your situation with Adam, too, its justunacceptable in our home. This is a family flat
Were just friends! she flared, Honestly! And in any case, Im registered here, legally. This is my address, too.
In that moment, I understood how far things had slid. She wasnt even apologizing any more. She believed she belonged here, as much as we did. That the registration changed everything.
Emily, its a formality. It doesnt mean you live here forever. We tried to help, but youre taking advantage now.
I am not! she shot back, raising her voicea rarity for her. I chip in, clean up, Im no bother to anyone. Now you want to throw me out?
No ones throwing you out, I told her, exhausted. Just understand, its hard for us. Victor hates it here. I feel like a stranger in my own flat. Youre an adultits time you sorted your own place.
She went very quiet, got up and left the kitchen. After that, we barely spoke. She was polite, but cold. Victor ignored her entirely.
Christmas was bleak. No tree in the loungewe set up a tiny one on the kitchen worktop instead. The lounge was Emilys territory now.
She went off to Margarets for the New Year, and Victor sighed in relief.
At least we can have a proper holiday now, he said. We drank a glass of cheap prosecco at midnight, then watched the fireworks dimly on the kitchen telly. At one point, as we clinked glasses, he said, Jane, we have to sort this. We cant go on. If it has to be court, so be it.
Court? I gasped. But shes your niece! Margaret would never forgive us. The whole family Itd be a disaster.
We cant let ourselves live like this forever, he answered darkly. Look at usmiserable, skirting around our own home.
He was right. Wed lost all comfort, all joy. But I was afraid. Afraid of a family row, of being called the uncaring ones.
When January rolled around, Emily returned with a bombshell. Wed all sat down to dinnera rare event in itself.
Aunt Jane, Uncle Victorjust to let you know, Adam might have to stay for a while, she began quietly. His halls are a nightmarerobberies, noise. I thought he could stay here for a spell. Were thinking of tying the knot after university. Hes not trouble, honestly.
My cup slipped out of my handluckily, it was empty. Victor went white as a sheet.
What? You want him to live here?
Just temporarilymaybe a couple of months. Flats big, three rooms. You two in the bedroom, us in the lounge. We wouldnt be a bother. Adam will help with bills.
Victor exploded. Absolutely not! This is OUR home, and thats final. Emily, Im giving you a monthfind a place and out you go. Enough. Weve been taken for fools.
Emily met his fury with total calm. You cant just kick me out. Im here legally until August. Adams coming in two days, and if you dont like it, talk to the councilbut youll find nothing. Ive got every right.
She left for the lounge, door shutting with quiet finality.
We sat, dumbfounded. Shed won. She knew her rights and we were powerless to stop it.
The next day, I called Margaret. She just sighed, Theres nothing I can do, Jane. Emilys an adultIm not involved. Youll have to do what you think is best.
Adam moved in two days later, with boxes in tow. Emily welcomed him merrily. I watched from the kitchen, and Victor came home to the sight of a strange mans shoes in the hallway and his coat on the peg.
Thats itsolicitor tomorrow, Victor said firmly. No more. If we have to sell the place, so be it. Were the ownerslets be that.
The solicitor revealed the ugly truthit would take months, perhaps even years, of hearings and evidence-gathering to get them out. Adam wasnt registered, so we could at least try to get him evicted. We called the local council officer, who did a walkthrough and gave Adam a warningmove out within three days or face a fine.
Adam left. Emily glared at us for weeks.
Three weeks later, she declared Adam would return, and shed applied to register him through her own (temporary!) paperwork, as they were now engaged. Ive checked the law, she said, I have every right.
Back to the solicitor. Start your claim now, he advised, and block his application. But itll take months.
So we did. Margaret stopped talking to me. Victors colleagues pitied him. The process dragged on.
In March, Adam moved back innothing we could do. They bought a new TV, put our old one in storage. They laughed and lived their young lives, free as you like. We lived in our own bedroom now, scuttling through the kitchen on tiptoes. Emily never apologized anymoreshe knew the rules and stuck to them.
One evening, after another round of laughter from the lounge, I realised we were beaten. As I loaded the dishes and Victor watched night falling, I finally said, Perhaps we ought to leave. Sell up, buy somewhere small. Let them have it.
He didnt answer straight away. Would mean giving up everything we worked for, he said slowly. This was supposed to be our castle. Now its a battleground.
I cant live as a guest here any longer, I said quietly. Maybe we were fools. Maybe its just easier to start over.
He nodded; we drank cold tea and let the silence settle. From the lounge, Emily and Adam chattered, settled, content. In our lounge, in our house, which no longer felt like ours.
Later, as we lay in bed, Victor sighed.
We were just trying to help, Jane. Thats all. All we did was believe in family. Look where it got us. No bitternessjust sadness.
We trusted too much, I replied. We thought gratitude would come. We believed people were as decent as we tried to be.
Shouldve known better, he whispered. Its a hard lesson.
Lying there, I listened to the sounds of our homemy niece and her fiancé, the faint hum of the expensive TV. We were the guests now, invisible, neither welcome nor wanted in our own home.
Tomorrow, Id call the estate agent, find out how much we could sell for, and plan somethinganythingjust to have our peace. Wed be strangers in a new place, but at least itd really belong to us.
And as I finally drifted off to sleep, I made myself remember: show kindness, but set your boundaries. In England, even family can overstep. Guard your home, because sometimes, the walls you own become the walls that keep you out.
Thats the lesson, I suppose. Or at least the price we paid for believing that family always means home.
