I caught my sisterinlaw measuring my clothes without asking.
Simon, please no overnight stays. This isnt a hotel, and your sister has her own flat in Brighton, even if its just down the road, Lena said, nervously polishing the crystal glasses, the water spots irking her as much as the upcoming visit from her husbands relatives.
Lena, whats your worry? Simon sighed, rubbing his nose, eyes never leaving the laptop. Ivy and Mum are just passing through. Mum has a cardiology appointment, and Ivy is tagging along for company. We cant send them back on the night train.
Just passing through. Right. The last time they passed through they stayed a week while Ivy hunted for winter boots across London because, you know, our selection is better. I fed, watered and entertained them while you were at work.
I promise this time will be different. One evening, dinner, a nights sleep, breakfast then theyre gone. Cut them some slack; theyre family.
Lena exhaled. In Simons lexicon, family was a holy shield, a blanket forgiveness for any sin. Yet his younger sister Ivy and his mother Margaret were far from saints. They werent criminals; they were simply uncouth. The sort of bluntness that, as the saying goes, is worse than theft.
Lena ran a department in a large logistics firm. She earned well, prized order, and adored quality. Her wardrobe was her shrine, perhaps her only weakness. Silk, cashmere, designer bags she had built the collection over years, tending to each piece like a gardener to rare orchids. That very wardrobe was a red rag to Ivy.
A knock sounded at six p.m. on the door. Margaret Clarke stood on the doorstep with a bag of greasy, deepfried pastries the kind that gave Lena heartburn and Ivy, who swept in without removing her shoes and planted a kiss on Lenas cheek.
Oh, Lena dear, hello! Ivy chirped, eyes scanning Lena from head to toe. Whats with the fancy dress? New? Expensive, I presume?
Just a simple house dress, Lena replied, forcing a smile as Ivys fingers lingered on the fabric, a tactile invasion.
Nothing ordinary about that, Ivy muttered, shrugging off her jacket. Pure cotton with embroidery. Costs half a salary. Lucky you, Simon spoils you.
I work too, Ivy, Lena reminded, hanging the jacket in the wardrobe.
Come on, work or not, Mums got a bag of biscuits, Ill take them to the kitchen.
The evening unfolded like a rehearsed play. Margaret immediately began reshuffling spice jars for convenience, while Simon, delighted to be with his kin, poured tea and listened to his mothers endless gossip about neighbours, pressures and the price of buckwheat.
Lena kept her composure, serving food, counting the hours until they left. Tension rose when the conversation turned to Aunt Zinas upcoming jubilee.
Girls, I have no idea what to wear, Ivy complained, stuffing a slice of cake into her mouth. Ive put on weight over the winter; nothing fits. The restaurant will be full of swanky ladies I cant look a mess.
She locked eyes on Lena. Lena took a sip of tea and stayed silent, recognizing the look: Give me a loan.
Lena, Ivy blurted, you have so many outfits. Could you lend me something for the weekend? Were practically the same size almost. Remember that blue sequined top?
Ivy, were not the same size, Lena said firmly. Im a size 12, youre a size 16. And I never lend my clothes. Its my principle.
Principles, right, Ivy rolled her eyes. Just say no and well be on our way. My sisterinlaws dress is gathering dust while I only need to wear it once. I could drop it off at the dry cleaners later!
Ivy, why would you want someone elses clothing? Simon tried to intervene, his knuckles whitening. Well buy you something new, Ill transfer a bit of money.
What would we buy? Margaret interjected. Why spend cash when the wardrobe is bursting? Lena, youve got more dresses than a boutique. Part with one, and the girl will be thrilled. Were family, not strangers.
Enough, Margaret, Lena snapped, her voice sharper than intended. My clothes are my property. I neither take nor give them away. Lets change the subject.
The rest of dinner passed in strained silence. Margaret pursed her lips, Ivy stared at her plate, and Simon glanced helplessly between them, unwilling to spark another fight.
The next morning Lena left early for work. The guests were still asleep. Simon had taken the day off to drive his mother to appointments, so the house was his domain.
Ill be back around seven, Lena told him as she slipped on her shoes. Please make sure they dont rearrange anything in our bedroom. You know I cant stand that.
Youre paranoid, love, Simon kissed her cheek. Who cares about the bedroom? Theyll have breakfast, well go to the clinic, a short walk, then straight to the station. By the time you get back, theyll be gone.
Lena left, but a knot of anxiety gnawed at her all day. She knew Ivy would interpret her refusal not as a final no, but as a challenge.
By midafternoon a migraine slammed into her, colors swirling behind her eyes. Her deputy, Hannah, noticed.
Emily, you look pale as a sheet, she said. Go home, well manage the report.
Emily didnt argue. She needed quiet and darkness, so she called a taxi.
When the cab pulled up, she glanced at her thirdfloor flat. Lights glowed in every room despite the bright sunshine outside. Strange, she thought, Simon said theyd be out by evening.
She slipped the key in the lock. A sweet, cloying scent cheap perfume mixed with hair lacquer filled the hallway, accompanied by muffled music and loud laughter.
She removed her shoes and crept down the corridor. Laughter echoed from the bedroom; the door was ajar.
Mate, this is mental! Ivy shouted, thrilled. Look at this dress! The cut, the colour! The size isnt right, but its gorgeous!
Sweetheart, you look stunning! Margaret cooed. Made in Italy, not that cheap offtheshelf stuff.
Lena pushed the bedroom door open. The scene before her could have been ripped from a lowbudget soap opera, but she felt nothing of the usual amusement.
In the centre, Ivy was writhing in the very silk evening gown Lena had bought in Milan two years ago for a New Years gala, a dress that had cost about £1,250. The fabric strained at the seams; the back zipper had split, exposing her undergarments. The gown, designed for a narrow waist, bulged around Ivys fuller hips. The zipper jammed midway, the fabric tearing as Ivy struggled to pull it closed.
On her feet were Lenas delicate beige pumps, now forced onto Ivys wider feet, the heels slipping. Scattered across the impeccably made bed were other items from Lenas wardrobe: a cashmere sweater, two blouses, scarves, a box of jewellery. Margaret sat in an armchair, holding Lenas leather handbag, inspecting its contents with a grin.
What on earth is happening? Lenas voice was low, but in the sudden stillness it thundered like a storm.
Ivy shrieked, the fabric ripping with a harsh tearing sound.
Oh Ivy froze, eyes wide in the mirrors reflection.
Margaret dropped her lipstick, which rolled across the polished floor.
Lena? Why are you up so early? Simon said youd be back at seven she began, trying to sound casual, but failing.
Lena stepped fully into the room. A cold, measured fury replaced the migraines pain.
Take it off, she commanded, eyes locked on Ivy.
Its not what you think, I was just trying it on we werent planning to keep it, just see how it looked, Ivy babbled, hands fumbling with the stubborn zipper. Simon gave us permission!
Lies, Lena snapped. Simon knows this room is offlimits to you. Remove the dress. Now.
I cant! Ivy wailed, her voice cracking. Its stuck!
What do you mean stuck?
The zipper its jammed. I tried to zip up and now it wont move either way!
Lena moved closer. Sweat and perfume clung to Ivys skin. The silk under the armpits was already damp, and a gaping hole ran along the seam where the thread had given way.
Youve ruined a dress worth over a thousand pounds, Lena said flatly. Do you understand?
Pounds, what pounds! Margaret interrupted, rising. A seam split is nothing. We can have it sewn. Its just a dress, love. Ivy just wanted to feel beautiful. Your husband earns barely enough to cover the bills!
Margaret, put the bag down and leave the room, or Ill call the police and treat this as a burglary, Lena warned, her tone sharper than shed intended.
Youre threatening the motherinlaw with police? Margaret sputtered, reddening. Were guests!
Were not guests. Guests dont ransack a bedroom. Youre thieves in our home. Get out!
Margaret muttered curses and fled down the hallway. Lena faced Ivy, who had slipped her head back, trembling.
Turn around, Lena ordered.
She examined the zipper. The pull tab was caught in the inner lining, the fabric torn beyond repair. The dress was beyond saving.
Ill have to cut it, Lena said calmly.
No! You cant! Im inside it! Ivy protested, stumbling on the toosmall shoes, nearly falling.
Either I cut the dress to free you, or you stay tangled here and go home in that mess. Choose.
At that moment the front door burst open.
Girls, Im home! Mum, where are you? Ive got a cake! Simons voice rang cheerfully, oblivious to the storm inside.
He stepped in, holding a cake box, his smile fading as he took in the chaos.
Whats going on? Ivy, why are you in Lenas dress? he asked, bewildered.
Simon! Ivy screamed, lunging toward him despite the tight skirt. She wants to kill me! Shes brandishing scissors! I was just trying it on and shes shouting about the police!
Simon stared at his wife, who stood with arms crossed, a look of absolute contempt on her face.
Simon, your sisterwithout askinghas worn my designer gown, ripped it, broken the zipper and ruined my shoes. Your mother rummaged through my bag. Im giving them ten minutes to pack up.
Lena, maybe we could Simon began, trying the peacemakers role.
Look at the dress, Simon, Lena cut in. Come here.
He approached, saw the gash on the side, the wet stains, the broken zipper, the scattered garments lying in disarray.
Ivy why did you do this? I asked you not to, he said, voice low.
This is just a piece of cloth! We can sew it! Youre being ridiculous! My brother loves you more than his own sister now! Ivy snapped. Your mothers hanging around the hallway, holding my heart hostage while youre all fussing over clothes!
Take it off, Simon said hoarsely.
What?
Take the dress off. Now.
It wont come off! Lena shouted. Shes stuck. Bring scissors.
The rescue took five tense minutes, accompanied by Margarets shrill curses from the hallway and Ivys ragged breaths. Lena had to slit the silk along the back, each cut feeling like a knife to her own heart. The ruined gown collapsed onto the carpet in a heap of expensive fabric.
Ivy was left in her undergarments and tights, hastily pulling on her own clothes and muttering under her breath, Dress up like a posh lady, youll have the moths eat it all.
Fifteen minutes later the flat was empty. Simon arranged a taxi for Ivy to the station, slipped her a few notesLena saw, but said nothingand returned to the apartment.
The living room was dead quiet. Lena sat on the sofa, staring at the torn dress on the coffee table, a tangible proof of the crime.
Simon sat beside her, unsure how to comfort her.
Im sorry, he finally said.
For what? she asked without turning.
For not listening to you. For bringing them here. For letting this happen.
You cant be responsible for who they are, but you are responsible for where they are. I dont want them in my house again, Simon. Not for an hour, not for a minute.
I understand.
You dont, she snapped, turning to face him. Its not a whim. Its a breach of every boundary. Your sister invaded my skin. That dress it wasnt about the moneythough it cost as much as a carbut about entitlement. You let her think she can take anything because youre her husband, and your mother encourages it. If you ever suggest they should visit again, Ill file for divorce.
Simon looked at the torn silk, then at his wife. He saw a woman who wasnt pleading, just stating facts.
I promise, no more visits. If I need to see my mum, Ill go to her. They wont come here again.
And were changing the locks tomorrow. Your mum still has a spare key you gave her just in case a year ago. I want to be sure that just in case never becomes a problem when were not home.
Simon nodded. Ill call a locksmith in the morning.
Lena picked up the ruined dress. What will you do with it? Simon asked.
Throw it away. Its defiled. Even if it could be repaired, I couldnt wear it.
She walked to the bin, slipped the silk into a plastic bag, and with it tossed the last hope of normal family relations. Relief washed over her; the wound finally began to close.
A week later her phone exploded with messages from Ivyinsults, accusations, demands for compensation. Lena blocked each number without a word.
That evening Simon arrived home from work, thoughtful.
Mum called, he said over dinner.
Lena braced for another apology or cash request.
She found the same dress online, a cheap Chinese copy, wants me to buy it as a peace offering for the scissors incident, he said.
Lena laughed, a genuine, loud laugh.
What did you say?
I told her I have no sister. I have only a woman who owes me £2,000 for the ruined dress. Until she pays, we have nothing to discuss.
Lena looked at him, surprise and admiration mixing in her eyes.
You really said that?
Absolutely. You know, love, Ive tolerated it for too long. I thought it was just a bit of envy, a little petty jealousy. But when I saw how they rummaged through our bedroom, how Mum poked around my bag I got scared. Scared of the people I let into our home. You were right. Simple rudeness can be worse than outright theft.
She moved to hug him. Thank you.
I changed the locks, by the way. Told the concierge not to let anyone in, even if they claim to be the Pope.
Life slowly settled back into a familiar rhythm. Lena bought a new dressfar finer than the old oneand now always locks the bedroom door, just in case. Her husbands relatives remain where they belong: on a blocked number and in the past, their power over her present finally erased.
