“Guests Bring Double Joy”: How My Brother Oliver Turned a Weekend into a Test of Patience
“Alex, you haven’t forgotten your brother’s visiting this weekend with his wife, have you?” reminded Tanya, my wife, holding a saucepan at the stove.
“Of course I remember,” I grumbled, though I’d only just recalled. Life had been peaceful without thoughts of Oliver.
Every summer, my brother descended upon our cottage near Canterbury under the guise of a “holiday”—though the only ones left exhausted were Tanya and me. He didn’t just bring his wife; he brought the unshakable feeling that you were hosting your own birthday party while still expected to cook and entertain.
They arrived three hours early. His voice boomed through the gate before the car even stopped:
“Blimey, Alex! Proper scorcher out here! Your place is brilliant! Mind if I air out my socks?”
Without waiting, he peeled them off and draped them over the garden chair. Tanya’s eyes widened. I sighed.
“Lunch ready yet?” he asked, already eyeing the kitchen.
“We’ve only just had breakfast,” I said.
“No worries! Jenny and I brought treats!” He waved a bag of supermarket éclairs. “Best-by’s tomorrow, but half price! And this melon—absolute steal! Put the kettle on, will you?”
As I washed my hands, he was already devouring the melon, juice dribbling down his chin. Tanya stood frozen in silent horror.
“Right, we’ll just pop off to our room for a kip, same as last time, yeah?” Without waiting, he marched toward the bedroom. Our bedroom. The master one.
I shot Tanya a look.
“You said his back plays up… and our mattress is better,” she whispered.
“Just two days, love,” she added, seeing my expression.
In that moment, I knew: these would be the longest two days of my life.
By evening, our daughter Emily arrived with her husband Mark and their boys, Archie and Leo. The boys tore through the house, backpacks filled with toys and travel sweets—they were due at summer camp the next morning.
Dinner dragged into the night: Mark tinkered with the car, Oliver and Jenny napped, and the rest of us waited. For a moment, it almost felt normal—grilling kebabs, laughter, the kids darting about. Then came the crisis.
“Em, have you seen the car keys? I swear I left them on the table…” Mark muttered, patting his pockets. “We’ll miss the train if we don’t leave now.”
Panic erupted. We turned the house inside out, even shifted the fridge. The boys were near tears. Only one person remained unfazed: Oliver, licking barbecue sauce from his fingers.
“Always an adventure here, eh?” He chuckled. “Thank God we never had grandkids—we’d lose our minds!”
Tanya bit her lip. Emily tugged my sleeve.
“Dad… what if I press the key fob? If they’re close, the alarm will sound.”
Mark rushed outside while we held our breath inside. Then—a faint beep. From the sofa? No—the armchair. No—Oliver’s tatty briefcase.
“Uncle Oliver… is this yours?” Emily asked.
“Course it is. What of it?”
“The sound’s coming from here… Mind if I look?”
“Don’t be daft, love—how’d they end up in there?” He wheezed with laughter.
Emily unzipped it anyway—and pulled out our keys. The fob still blinking.
“Mark! Found them! Go, now!”
They bolted out. I turned to Oliver.
“How did our keys get in your bag?”
“How should I know? Must’ve been Jenny—thought they were mine,” he said, nodding at his wife.
“Exactly! Saw them lying about and popped them in. No need for drama, is there?”
After they’d gone, Tanya and I sat on the patio.
“Did you see them off? Hardly a proper goodbye…”
“Alex… he’s always been like this. Remember when he took the blame for you as kids?”
I exhaled. I did. But now he was a grown man who helped himself to our roast beef, slept in our bed, and nicked car keys.
At dawn, he was up as usual.
“Jenny and I had an early bite—finished off that beef joint and the cheddar in the fridge. Lovely here, like a proper spa! Shame to leave…”
As their car vanished down the lane, Tanya sank onto the steps.
“Guests bring double joy, love. First when they arrive… and again when they leave.”
I nodded. And for the first time in two days—smiled.
