“Not Happy? There’s the Door,” Julia Told Her Uninvited Guests For thirty years, Julia kept quiet. When her husband spoke, she nodded. When her mother-in-law arrived unexpectedly, she put the kettle on. When her sister-in-law turned up with bags, Julia settled her into the spare room. “Just for a couple of days,” she promised—three months later, she was still there. What could Julia do? Cause a scene—people would say she was a terrible wife. Say no—she’d be labelled heartless. So Julia was used to putting up with things, learning over time to turn a blind eye as her own life became a service station for everyone else’s demands. Her husband, Tony Smith, was a simple man. He worked as a building foreman, loved a good knees-up with a few toasts about friendship and the odd grumble about the boss. He called Julia “my little homemaker” and never could understand why sometimes she cried at night. “If you’re tired, take a break. If the family’s come round, feed them. What could be simpler?” When he died, Julia was left on her own in their three-bedroom London flat on Holloway Road. The funeral went as expected: good spread, plenty of vodka, kind words about “a top bloke.” The family gathered, wept, and left. Julia thought, “That’s it. Maybe now I’ll finally get some peace.” No such luck. A week later, her sister-in-law Val called: “Julia, I’ll pop by tomorrow. Got some shopping for you.” “I don’t need anything, Val.” “Oh, don’t be like that! I’m not coming empty-handed.” Val showed up with a couple of bags of groceries and one demand: let her son, Kieran, stay until he “starts at uni in London.” Julia tried to be polite: “He’ll have halls, won’t he?” “That’s not for ages! Where’s he meant to live in the meantime—the train station?” Julia gave in. Kieran moved into the spare room—untidy: socks in the hallway, plates in the sink, music blasting till midnight. He never started uni, but got a job as a courier—using Julia’s flat as a pit stop. “Kieran, do you think you could move out soon?” she questioned gently after a month. “Auntie Julia, where am I meant to go? Can’t afford rent right now!” Two weeks later, Tony’s daughter from his first marriage, Laura, rolled up—bringing with her thirty years’ worth of resentment and demands: “Dad left you the flat and what did I get? I am his daughter, you know!” Julia had nothing to say—it was all above board, legally hers now. But Laura’s glare suggested she’d robbed her outright. “Do you know how hard it is for me?” Laura ranted. “I’m a single mum, paying for a place I can barely afford!” Julia tried to explain this was her only home, she had no money, no idea how she’d cope. Laura wasn’t interested in understanding—she wanted what she saw as justice. And so it began. The family started visiting more often: mother-in-law popping in with “advice” about selling the flat for something smaller, Val dropping in with yet another cousin, Laura back again with new demands. With each visit, Julia made tea, set the table, and braced for disappointment. Then one day, they started talking openly about the flat. “Julia, why do you need three bedrooms on your own?” said Val, slurping her tea. “Sell up, buy a little place. Use the money to help the kids.” “What kids?” Julia replied, confused. “Laura. Kieran. They’re struggling.” Julia looked at her guests—Val, Laura, mother-in-law—and realised: they weren’t here to support her. They’d come to carve things up. “If you don’t like it,” Julia said quietly, “you know where the door is.” A hush fell. “What did you say?” Val asked slowly. “I said: get out. Out of my home.” They stared at her as if she’d suddenly started speaking Chinese. Or swearing. “Who do you think you are?” Val protested. “We’re family!” “Family? The sort that only comes round for a meal or to watch the TV?” Val appealed to her mother: “See? I said she was a stuck-up little madam!” Mother-in-law just watched in silence, as always, sighing as if Julia had let everyone down again. “Valerie,” Julia said, “You lot have spent thirty years telling me how to live. How to please my husband. How to set a table. And when I cried at night, you know what you said? ‘Put up with it. We all do.’ Remember?” Mother-in-law pursed her lips. “Well, I did put up with it. But now—enough. My patience is gone, used up, like the last bit of butter in the dish. All gone.” Val grabbed her bag: “I’ll tell Kieran! He’ll know what you’re really like!” “Tell him. But take him with you. Tomorrow. Or I’ll put his things on the landing myself.” They stormed out, slamming the door so hard the light fitting rattled. Julia stood alone in the kitchen, hands shaking, heart pounding. She poured herself a glass of water and downed it. Then she wondered: “What have I done?” But then thought: “What did I really do? Sent uninvited guests packing from my own flat?” That night, sleep didn’t come—not guilt, just a washing machine of thoughts churning round and round. Maybe they were right: maybe she was selfish and cruel. Maybe she should have just put up with it. But in the morning, everything felt clear. Patience is for the short-term. She’d had thirty years of it. That’s not patience—that’s surrender. Kieran was gone in two days, Val collected him, studiously not looking at Julia. He muttered something about “grumpy old witch” as he packed. Julia just stood silent—no tears, no apologies, not anymore. A week later, Laura called: “Mum and I were thinking—” she started cautiously. “Your mum—she died in ’92. Val’s just my ex-mother-in-law,” Julia interrupted. Flat silence. Laura hadn’t seen that coming. “Okay, but look… Let’s not fall out. You know Dad loved you.” “He did, in his own way. But the flat is mine—legitimately. I owe no one anything.” “But really, is it fair…” “Fair?” Julia smiled. “Tell you what ‘fair’ would be: if, just once in thirty years, any of you had rung to say ‘Happy Birthday.’ Or called, not to scrounge money, but just for a chat. That would be fair.” “You’re so bitter,” Laura replied coldly. “Loneliness is turning you hard.” “No. I just stopped pretending.” The weeks stretched out, slow and aimless. Julia went to her job as a hospital cleaner, came home, ate alone. Mrs. Clarke from next door popped round with homemade pies. “You alright, love? Not feeling blue?” “I’m fine.” “Your lot not been to see you?” “Nope.” “Good,” said Mrs. Clarke, surprisingly. “I watched them for years and thought: when will you realise you’re too soft? Proud of you.” For the first time in years, Julia grinned—truly grinned. The worst part wasn’t the family’s upset, but the silence. In the evening, there was no one to say “hello” or share a cuppa with. And Julia realised: she had never lived her own life. Now? Now came the hard part—learning to live her own way. And that was more terrifying than any shouting match with Val. A month later, Val returned, unannounced, with Kieran, mother-in-law, and Laura—an invasion. Julia opened the door—there they all were, lined up on the landing. “Well, Julia,” said Val, “changed your mind yet?” “Changed my mind about what?” “The flat. You going to sell?” Julia looked at each face—these people really believed she’d crack after a few weeks alone. That she’d beg them all to return. “Come in then,” she said. “You’re already here.” They sat around the kitchen. Mother-in-law checked the fridge, Laura flicked through her phone, Val folded her arms across the table from Julia. “You know you can’t cope with all this alone. The bills. Repairs. And why do you need all this space?” “I like it,” Julia answered calmly. “But you’re alone!” Laura snapped, waving her phone. “Here’s an idea: sell the flat, buy a little place out in the suburbs, have three hundred grand leftover. Give me a hundred for my daughter and me, Kieran gets a hundred for uni, you keep a hundred for retirement.” Julia stared at Laura—those manicured nails, designer handbag. “Let me get this straight,” she said, slowly. “I move to a cheap flat so you can all have a chunk of cash?” “It’s only fair!” protested Laura. “Dad worked for this place all his life!” “No,” Julia said quietly. “He got it from the council, back in ’84, as a young man. Any upgrades were paid by me. With my earnings.” “Oh, don’t be difficult,” Val chimed in. “We’re just being reasonable. We’re family.” Something snapped inside Julia. Like flipping off a light. “Family?” she repeated. “Where was this family when I was in hospital three years ago? Who visited? Val, did you come?” Val shuffled. “Well, I was tied up then…” “And you, Mrs. Smith? Did you ever ring me?” Mother-in-law stared at the window. “And you, Laura? Did you even know I was in hospital?” “No one told me…” Laura mumbled. “Exactly. Not that you cared. Just as you don’t now. You’re here for the flat.” “Julia! Don’t lose your rag,” Val began. “I’m not angry. Just finished.” Julia stood, walked to the door, opened it. “Please leave. Now. And don’t come back.” “You’ve got a nerve!” Laura shouted. “Who do you think you are? You’re not even really family!” “Yes,” Julia replied, “and thank God for it.” Val sprang up: “Tony’d turn in his grave!” “If he knew,” Julia agreed, “he’d bully me into giving in. Like always. But he’s not here. Now it’s up to me.” “You’ll regret this!” hissed Laura. “When you’re old and sick, you’ll come crawling back!” Julia gave a weary smile. “Laura, I’m nearly sixty. For thirty years, I thought being good meant being loved. That if I kept giving in, I’d be valued. Turned out—no. The more I gave, the more you took. So, no. I’ll never come crawling.” They left in silence. Val red-faced, mother-in-law lips pinched, Laura slamming the door. Julia stood in the hall, hands trembling. She went to the kitchen, sat down, and cried—not out of self-pity, but from sheer relief. A week later, Mrs. Clarke called. “Heard you’ve fallen out with the lot of them?” “Not really. Just told the truth.” “Good lass. Listen, I’ve a granddaughter—Kate. Thirty, just split with her husband, lost. Want to meet her? She’s a quiet, hard-working girl.” They met. Kate was shy, a bookkeeper, renting a room in a shared house, and came for tea, lingering, chatting. “Would you like to move in here?” Julia offered. “There’s a spare room. Just pay your share of the bills.” Within a month, Kate moved in. Living with a stranger, it turned out, was easy—so long as you respected each other’s space. Julia signed up at the local library—the very branch where she’d once worked as a librarian, now a reader, finally picking up books she’d always wanted to try. Sometimes she wondered about the family—how were Val and Kieran? Laura and her daughter? Mother-in-law? But she had no urge to call. Not at all. Six months on, Mrs. Clarke told her, “Heard your sister-in-law moved in with Kieran, in the student digs. Said she was lonely in the country.” “Good for her,” Julia replied. “And Laura got married—to some businessman. Living the high life, they say.” “I’m pleased for her.” Mrs. Clarke looked her up and down. “You’re not bitter?” “Why would I be?” “Because they’ve managed without you.” Julia smiled. “Mrs. Clarke, they always managed without me. I just never realised it before.” That evening, Julia sat by her window—dusk, streetlights, people hurrying home. Kate was in the kitchen, singing as she cooked. Julia thought: this is happiness—not in the approval of relatives, but in being able to say “no” and not dying of guilt. Have you ever had to stand your ground with family who won’t take the hint? Friends, don’t forget to subscribe so you never miss a new story!

Dont like it? Youre welcome to leave, declared Julia to her unwelcome visitors.

For thirty years, Julia lived a quiet life of acquiescence. If her husband spokeshe nodded. When her mother-in-law appeared unexpectedly, she put the kettle on. When her sister-in-law arrived with suitcases, she offered the spare room at the back. Just for a few days, her sister-in-law would promise. Shed end up staying three months.

What else could Julia do? To quarrel would mark her as a troublesome wife. To refuse would make her seem heartless. So Julia grew used to enduringand even learned how to ignore the way her own life became ever more consumed by serving everyone elses wishes.

Her husband, Arthur Goodman, was a straightforward man. He worked as a builder, was fond of raucous family dinners, and had a penchant for hearty toasts and grumbling about his bosses over pints. He called Julia his good housekeeper, and was genuinely at a loss as to why she would sometimes weep at night. Well, if youre tiredrest. If the familys visitingput on a spread. What could be simpler?

After his passing, Julia found herself alone in the three-bedroom flat off Holloway Road. The wake was done in proper form: a table groaning with food, whisky, speeches about what a decent man Arthur had been. Family gathered, wept a little, and went their separate ways. Julia thought, Well, now I might finally have a rest.

But that was not to be.

A week later, her sister-in-law, Deborah, rang her.

Julia, Ill come by tomorrow. Got some shopping for you.

I dont need anything, Debs.

Oh dont be daft! Im not coming empty-handed.

She arrived lugging two bags of groceries and one request: could her nephew, Simon, whos starting university in London, stay a while? Julia tried to refuse gently.

Hell get a place in halls, surely?

Eventually! And till then, wheres he to go? Sleep on a bench, is he?

Julia yielded. Simon moved into the spare room. He was a messy lodgersocks strewn through the hallway, plates piling in the sink, music blaring until all hours. He never did make it to university, but found work as a courier, turning Julias home into a parcel depot.

Simon, do you think you might look for somewhere else soon? Julia asked, ever so carefully, a month later.

Auntie Julia, where am I to go? Cant afford the rent, can I?

Two weeks later, Arthurs daughter from his first marriage, Helen, turned up. She brought with her a grievance spanning three decades and a sharp sense of entitlement.

Dad left the flat to you, and what about me? Im his daughter!

Julia was lost for words. The flat had been Arthurs, now legally hers by inheritance. But Helen looked at her as if Julia had stolen something precious.

You even know how hard it is for me? Helen pressed on. Im a single mother, paying rent every week!

Julia attempted to explain that this was her only home, that she had no surplus savings, that she herself was at a loss. Helen wasnt interested. She hadnt come for understandingshe had come for justice.

Then it started.

The family began dropping by more often. The mother-in-law would arrive, offering helpful advice like, You should sell this place, buy something smaller. Deborah showed up with another nephew. Helen returned with new demands.

At every visit Julia laid out food, poured tea, listened to reproaches.

One day they spoke of the flat, openly at last.

Julia, why do you need three bedrooms all by yourself? asked Deborah over tea. Sell up, buy a little place for yourself. Use the difference to help the children.

What children? Julia replied, puzzled.

Helen. Simon. Theyre struggling.

Julia stared at the guestsDeborah, Helen, the mother-in-lawand suddenly realised: they werent here to comfort. They had come to claim their share.

If you dont like it, Julia said softly, the doors just there. Youre welcome to leave.

The room fell silent.

What did you say? Deborah asked slowly.

I saidleave, Julia repeated, louder this time. Get out of my house.

They looked at her as though she had sprouted horns. As if she were speaking in riddlesor swearing.

How dare you? snapped Deborah. Were family!

What sort of family is it, whispered Julia, that only ever shows up when it wants a meal or the telly?

Mum, did you hear what she said? Deborah appealed to her mother. Proud madam, just as I told you!

The mother-in-law sat quietly, as usualnot one for words, but for weighty sighs and piercing looks. Everyone knew: ungrateful Julia had done wrong again.

Mrs Goodman, Julia said, turning to her, You spent thirty years teaching me what it means to be a proper wife. How to serve the men, how to set a table. And when Id cry at night, do you remember what youd say? Just put up with it. Every woman does. Do you remember?

Her mother-in-law pursed her lips.

So I did put up with it. Thirty years. Now its over. Ive nothing left to givepatience is all poured out.

Deborah grabbed her bag. Ill tell Simon what a cow you are!

Do that. But take him with you. Tomorrow. Or his things go out on the landing.

They left. The door slammed with such force, the lamp trembled. Julia stood in the kitchen, hands shaking, heart pounding. She ran herself a glass of waterand drained it.

What on earth have I done? she wondered.

And then, But really, whats so terrible? I only asked unwelcome guests to leave my own house.

That night, Julia couldnt sleep. She tossed and turned, mind churned over the eventsas if she were a shirt spinning in an old washing machine. Perhaps they were right? Had she become a cold-hearted wretch? Ought she to have put up with more?

But in the morning, everything became clearsharp as the first frost. Endurance, Julia thought, is supposed to be temporary. I tolerated it for thirty years. Thats not endurance. Thats surrender.

Simon left two days later. Deborah came for him, sour, eyes averted. The nephew muttered about miserable old bat. Julia remained silent in the hallway. She would have cried, would have pleaded in years past. Now? She kept silent.

A week after, Helen rang.

Mum and I have been talking she started, tentative.

Your mum? interrupted Julia. She passed away in 92. Mrs Goodmans my former mother-in-law.

Helen was dumbstruck.

Alright, alright, she hurried on. Anywayweve decided not to quarrel. You know Dad cared for you.

He did, Julia agreed. In his way. But the flats mine now. Thats the law. I owe nothing.

But surely, by rights

By rights? Julia laughed bitterly. Helen, by rights you and the rest might have wished me happy birthday once in thirty years. Or rung without angling for money. Thats what fair would be.

Youve changed, Helen said icily. Living alones made you hard.

No. Ive just stopped pretending.

The following weeks stretched endlessly. Julia went to her work as a hospital cleaner, came home, ate supper alone. Occasionally, Mrs Evans from next door would call in with a pie.

Julia, love, you alright on your own?

Im fine.

Family not coming by anymore?

No.

And good riddance, Mrs Evans remarked. I always wondered when youd find your backbone. Well done.

Julia actually smileda real smile, the first in an age.

But the hardest part wasnt that the family had gone in a huff. It was the quiet. The evenings alone, with no one to greet, no one to pour tea for. Only then did Julia realiseshed never lived for herself.

Now? Now she had to learn how. And that was scarier than all Deborahs reproaches.

A month later, Deborah reappearedwithout warning. With Simon, with her mother-in-law, and with Helen. The whole company, as though staging an invasion.

Julia opened the door to find them arrayed outside, like a delegation. Deborah at the front, everyone else in tow.

So, Julia, Deborah said, come to your senses yet?

About what? Julia replied, feigning confusion.

The flat. Ready to sell it?

Julia slowly looked each one in the eye. Theyd clearly planned thisto catch her on her own, assuming a month of solitude would break her, make her beg them back.

Come in then, Julia said at last. Since youre here.

They settled in the kitchen. The mother-in-law made straight for the fridge. Helen pulled out her phone, scrolling. Deborah sat opposite Julia and folded her hands.

Julia, you cant manage this place alone. The bills, the upkeep. Why hold onto all this space?

I rather like it, Julia replied, calm.

But youre on your own! Helen cut in, not looking up. LookIve found a flat you could buy on the outskirts. You sell this, buy the other, and have £300,000 left. Give me and Simon £100,000 each. You keep £100,000 for your old age!

Julia looked at Helens confident face, her well-manicured hands, her designer bag.

So, Im to move to the edge of town, so you each get a hundred thousand? she asked softly.

Its only fair! Dad invested everything here! Helen shot back indignantly.

No, he didnt, Julia replied quietly. He was given this flat in 84 for his job. All the renovations, thoughI paid for them out of my own wages.

Oh, stop being awkward, Julia, Deborah interjected. Were only trying to help. Were family, after all.

Something snapped inside Julia. Like a switch being flicked off.

Family? she echoed. Where was this family when I had surgery three years ago? Who visited? You, Deborah?

Deborah squirmed.

I had things on at the time

And Mrs Goodman? Julia turned to her mother-in-law. Did you ever call, even once?

Mrs Goodman stared stonily out of the window.

And you, Helen? Did you know I was in hospital at all?

Nobody told me, she mumbled.

Exactly. Nobody cared. Same as now. Youre not here for me. Youre here for the flat.

Julia, whats got into you? Deborah started.

Nothing. Im done, thats all. No patience left.

Julia stood and walked to the door, swinging it wide.

Leave. Now. And dont come back.

Who the hell do you think you are? Helen spat. Youre not even family!

No, Julia said softly. Thank heavens for that.

Deborah leapt up. Arthur would turn in his grave!

Yes, Julia agreed. He always made me give in. But hes gone. Now I choose.

Youll regret this! Helen snarled. One day youll be old and sick, and youll come crawling back!

Julia smiled, weary. Helen, Im fifty-eight. I spent thirty years believing if I was good, people would love me. That if I gave in, theyd appreciate it. But the more I gave, the more you all expected. So no. I wont come crawling. Not ever.

They left in silence. Deborahface flushed. The mother-in-lawtight-lipped. Helenslamming the door for good measure.

Julia stood trembling in the hallway, temples throbbing. She made her way to the kitchen, sank onto a chair, and cried.

Not out of self-pityout of relief.

A week later, Mrs Evans called.

Julia, Ive heardyouve fallen out with the lot of em?

No, just told the truth.

And good for you, love. Say, my granddaughter Kateshes thirty, left her husband, cant get settled. Perhaps you could meet? Shes a good girl, hard-working.

They met. Kate was gentle and shy, working as a bookkeeper, renting a room. Shed come for tea, staying for long talks.

Would you like to move in? Julia ventured one evening. Ive got a spare room. Cover the utilities, and thats it.

Kate moved in a month later. Living with a stranger was simple, Julia foundwhen that person respected your space, didnt criticise or preach.

Julia joined the local librarythe very one she once worked at. Now she came as a reader, borrowing all the books shed never had time for.

Sometimes she wondered about the family. How were they? Deborah and Simon? Helen and her girl? Mrs Goodman?

But not once did she feel the urge to ring.

After six months, Mrs Evans shared the latest gossip.

Your sister-in-laws moved in with her lad in the student hallssays village life was too glum.

Well, good for her, Julia replied.

And Helen, they say shes married some big businessman. Living the high life, apparently.

Im pleased for her.

Mrs Evans gave Julia a searching look. Youre not bitter?

Why would I be?

Well, getting on without you, arent they?

They always did, Julia answered with a wry smile. I just hadnt noticed before.

That evening, Julia sat by the window as dusk gathered, looking out over the lamplit street, people hurrying home. Kate hummed quietly in the kitchen as she made supper.

Julia thought: this is happiness. Its not in approval from family. Its in knowing you can say noand not be destroyed by guilt.

And youhave you ever had to stand your ground against your own kin?