Wheres the cheese? The one I bought specially for the salad? The proper hard stuff? asked Julia, confused as she moved a half-empty jar of pickled onions and a solitary bottle of milk around on the fridge shelf.
Her husband, Paul, sat hunched over at the kitchen table, head drawn into his shoulders as if trying to vanish entirely. He avoided her gaze and stared mournfully out the window, where the relentless drizzle of autumn banged against the glass.
Err Louise made cheese sandwiches for the kids, he muttered, barely louder than a whisper, as if speaking up might bring the ceiling crashing down. They got peckish after their walk. Julia, love, why are we making a fuss over a wedge of cheese? We’ll get some more tomorrow.
Julia closed the fridge door with deliberate slowness. The chill stopped nipping at her toes, but inside she was simmering. She took a deep breath, counting silently to tena habit shed acquired over the last three weeks, but lately it wasnt doing much good.
Paul, that cheese cost £15, she replied in a flat, emotionless voice, turning to face him. I was planning a celebratory dinner because I finally finished that project. Now, the fridge is empty. Again. Like yesterday when the ham disappeared, and the day before when the trout vanished. Are we working just to flush it all away?
Paul winced as if hed bitten into something sour. He was embarrassed, uncomfortable, but the sense of family duty drilled into him since birth outweighed common sense every time.
Theyre guests, Jules. Their house is in chaosdust, builders, no water. Where else can they go? Just bear with it a bit longer, theyll be gone soon.
The soon had been echoing round their house for twenty-two days. It started innocently enough: Louise, Pauls sister, rang up with a tale of woebuilders had ripped up her floors and accidentally burst a pipe, making her flat unlivable. Louise and her husband, Tony, needed somewhere just for three or four days, while things dried out. Julia, ever the kind soul, agreed. After all, familys familyhelp in times of trouble.
Except three days rolled into a week, then two, and now they were well into month two of autumn, and there was still no end in sight. Julia and Pauls three-bedroom flat, once an oasis of peace and comfort, was now an outpost of chaos. Louise and Tony had claimed the living room as their territory, their two boys, aged ten and eleven, slept on an air bed but technically occupied the entire flat.
Evenings became endurance tests. Julia would stumble home from work dreaming of a hot shower and quiet, only to be greeted by what looked and sounded like a railway station. The TV blared out, as Tony insisted on watching the news with full sensory experience. The bathroom was always occupiedthe nephews splashed around for forty minutes at a time, pouring gallons of expensive shower gel over themselves and leaving puddles, which Julia inevitably stepped in wearing socks.
The real pain, though, was food. Julia earned a decent salary, Paul wasnt exactly struggling either, and theyd grown used to good food: proper meat, fresh fruit and veg, nice dairy. They budgeted, put away for a holiday and mortgage, which thankfully was nearly paid off. Since the relatives arrived, the budget snapped, and then completely exploded.
Louise, a woman who believed strongly in comfort-eating, had a strict policy: she avoided the stove like the plague.
Oh Julia, Im just so frazzled from all this house business, nerves in bits, Louise would sigh, lounging on the sofa with a bowl of grapes. You cook anyway, so its no trouble to make a bit more soup, is it?
Except her bit more meant a five-litre pot of stew vanishing in one evening. Tony, a lorry driver on shifts, spent his days off devouring food at a pace worthy of a cavalry battalion. The nephews, growing lads, gobbled everything, never pausing to ask if it was reserved for another occasion or person.
Julia slipped off her blazer, draped it over the chair, and rubbed her temples.
Paul, I checked our bank app today, she said, looking him dead in the eye. In the last three weeks, weve spent what wed usually spend in two months. Im not joking. They havent bought a single thingnot even a loaf of bread.
But theyre paying for the builders, you know Paul started again, but now less confidently. Tony says materials have got pricey.
Weve got expenses too, Julia cut him off. I didnt sign up to feed four adults and two kids single-handedly. Have you seen Louise bring a grocery bag even once? Buy a packet of biscuits for tea?
Just then, Louise shuffled into the kitchen in Julias dressing gown (Its so light and silky, mines just too warm!). Julia bit her tongue, spotting a jam stain on the lapel.
Ooh, Jules! Youre back! Louise chirped, heading for the kettle. We were waiting forever! Were famished. Tony wants to know whats for dinnerhe smelled burgers, said your mince was defrosting.
Julia stared at hera long, unwavering look. Something inside clicked. The fuse holding politeness together had finally blown.
There won’t be any burgers, Julia said calmly.
What dyou mean, no burgers? Louise asked, freezing with her mug halfway to the kettle. Whats for dinner then? Cant leave the kids hungrythey need routine.
I put the mince back in the freezer. Tonight, were having boiled riceplain.
Plain?! Louises eyes went wide. No meat? Not even sauce? Tony wont touch that, hes a proper bloke, he needs his meat.
Tonys welcome to pop to the shop, grab some meat, cook it and eat it, Julia replied sweetly (her smile didnt reach her eyes). He knows where Tesco is, next door.
Louise harrumphed, dropped her mug with a loud thud, lips pursed.
Julia, have you lost your mind? Rough day at workfine, but why take it out on family? Paul, will you say something?
Paul, now stuck between two fires, looked as if he wished he could melt through the linoleum and into the downstairs neighbour’s flat.
Julia, come on Maybe cook some pasta? We had a packet somewhere
We did. Yesterday, Julia nodded. Before your nephews ate it all in a contest to see who could finish more.
That evening was one of stony silence. Julia cooked rice, put out oil and salt. Tony saw dinner, poked at it dramatically and grumbled about prison rations before stomping off to the living room. Louise gave the kids rice sprinkled liberally with sugar (from Julias stash), and muttered, Hopefully tomorrow youll come round and cook something proper.
Julia didnt sleep much that night. She lay in the dark, listening to Tonys snoring and Pauls quiet breathing, thinking. Thinking how kindness is often punished, how boundaries must be defended, and that if she didnt act now, the repair crisis would go on forever. The supposed problem was just a convenient excuseTony hadnt checked their flat in three weeks. Theyd simply found a comfy arrangement: free lodging, free food, a full-service stay.
Next morning, Julia woke before everyone. She didnt cook breakfast. She brewed herself some coffee, drank it in peace, and headed out to workleaving the fridge sparklingly empty. The night before, shed packed all the edible remnants into a cool bag and taken them to her mum in the next block.
Her day at work zipped by, but Julia was busy plotting. That evening, she returned home carryingnot grocery bagsbut a folder.
Inside, the atmosphere was leaden. Louise met her in the hall, hands planted firmly on hips.
Julia, seriously, the fridge is bare! Not a single egg! The boys had to eat dry Weetabixno milk! This is just outrageous!
From the living room, Tony peered round the door, scratching his belly under his stretched vest.
Yeah, love, youve gone off the boil. Were starving here. Did you manage a quick trip to Sainsburys?
Julia calmly removed her boots, went to the kitchen, plonked the folder down and announced,
Everyone to the kitchen. Its time for a chat.
Oh, finally! Tony rubbed his hands together. Lets talk dinner plansI’d murder a steak or, failing that, roast chook.
Everyone, including Paul, filed in and took seats (the kids were handed tablets and dispatched to their room). Julia opened the folder.
Right, she started, using her professional-client voice. Youve been living here for twenty-three days. Not once have you bought groceries, paid any bills or helped with cleaning.
Oh, here we go, Louise rolled her eyes. Youre counting pennies now? Were family!
Exactly why I tolerated it this long, Julia said, pulling out a printed spreadsheet. Ive audited our expenses. Hereshe pointed at a row of numbers”our usual monthly spend on food. And herewhat we’ve spent these past three weeks. The amounts jumped up by four and a half times.
Tony squinted at the sheet.
Whats this, then? Youve been saving all the receipts? he snorted. Come off it, Julia, youre so stingy. Never thought youd be like this. Paul, how dyou cope?
Paul blushed but didnt reply. Julia carried on.
Its not stingy, Tony. Its accounting. Everythings included: meat, fish, cheese, yoghurts for the kids, fruit, veg, cleaning supplies you use like water, plus electricity and watermeters dont lie.
So, whats your point? Louises tone was getting shrill.
The point, Julia put a sheet with her bank details on top of the spreadsheet, is free boarding house is closing. Im billing you for three weeks stay and food. The totals at the bottom.
Louise snatched the paper, scanned the number and gasped. The sheet fluttered to the floor.
Youre mad! £350 for food?! Did we eat at The Ritz?!
Pretty much, Julia nodded. With fillets, fancy cold meats, posh salmon, and me doing all the cookingthis is a bargain. I didnt charge for chef or cleaning services, so count that as a family discount.
Im not paying! Tony roared, jumping up. This is outrageous! Paul, say something! Your wifes fleecing your sister!
Paul looked up. He glanced at his brother-in-laws crimson face, at his sisters fury, then over at Julia, calm but exhausted. He remembered Julia crying in the bathroom last night, water running so no one would hear. The empty wallet, days before payday.
What am I supposed to say? he replied quietly.
Shes gone loopy! Charging family! screeched Louise. Who bills guests?!
Louise, guests come with a cake, drink tea and go home in the evening, Paul said firmly. His voice had gained strength. Or stay two days on invitation. You lot have lived here a month, eaten us out of house and home, then moan about plain rice.
The whole kitchen went dead silent. Louise stared at Paul like hed sprouted a second head.
You youre throwing us out? she whispered with melodramatic horror.
Im not throwing you out, Julia stepped in. But the terms are changing. If you want to stay, its pay-as-you-go. Split groceries and bills fifty-fifty, plus cleaning on rotation: one day me, one day Louise. Its fair. And this billshe tapped the sheetneeds settling by Sunday.
Stuff that! Tony kicked the chair. Pack up, Louise. We dont need these relatives. Enjoy your fancy ham!
Where can we go? The flats still a mess! Louise whined.
To my mums! Tony barked. Tiny, but well survive. And I wont step foot in this house again!
Packing took all of an hour. The loudest hour in the flats history. Louise slammed cupboard doors for dramatic effect, Tony swore (not exactly under his breath), the boys whined at being torn from their cartoons.
Julia sat in the kitchen, sipping cold tea, staying out of it. She knew if she helped or apologised, everything would repeat. Paul helped carry bags to the corridor, silent and moody.
When the front door finally slammed, cutting off Louises parting shout about never darkening this doorstep again, a glorious, thick silence settled on the flat.
Paul returned to the kitchen, slumped opposite Julia and buried his face in his hands.
Blimey, Im mortified, he mumbled. Mums going to ring up and curse us now, isnt she
Let her, Julia said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Paul, we didnt do anything wrong. We protected our home. You saw ittheyd made themselves right at home, and then some.
I know, he sighed. Just theyre family.
Family ought to respect each other. That was freeloading. Oh, and by the way, I rang your mum today.
He looked surprised.
Why?
To check on her health. And, as it happens, found out theres no building work at Louises flat.
What?! Paul blinked.
Yep. They rented it out for two months to a team of contractors working in town. Decided to pocket the rent and live with kind old brother. Your mum thought we knew.
Pauls face cycled from pale to red as the penny dropped.
Rented out? So they got rent, stayed here for free, munched our food, and
And complained about rice, Julia finished. Still feel ashamed?
Paul was quiet for a minute. Then he got up, opened the fridge, peeked at the barren shelves, and let out a rather nervous laugh.
No. Not ashamed. Julia, Im sorry. I was an idiot.
You were, she agreed, standing up. But you learned. Thats what matters. Shall we pop to Waitrose? Get some cheese. And wine.
And steak, Paul said determinedly. Just for us.
A week later, Louise rangnot Julia, obviously, but Paul. Julia overheard, since Paul put the call on speaker while washing up.
Paul, darling, you know we got a bit carried away, Louise cooed. Mums place is cramped, the kids cant do homework, Tony cant sleep We thought, maybe we could move back? Weve even bought groceriesa bag of spuds and some pasta.
Paul dried his hands on a tea towel, caught Julias grin, and replied with iron resolve,
No, Louise. Mums is fine for you. Besides, weve got our own repaira mental one. No room here.
He hung up. For the first time in a month, Paul felt completely in charge at home. The bill Julia printed was, of course, never paid, but peace and quiet in their little flat were worth far more. It was the price of a life lesson: sometimes, to save your sanity (and your marriage), you have to shut the door on relatives.
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