The neighbours felt compelled to show us who truly ruled the house, and for no apparent reason.
This took place some years ago, five at least, when my husband and I already had two children and were all squeezed into a tiny single room. Naturally, our growing family desperately needed more space, but for a good while, all we did was talk about it.
Yet, when we learned we were expecting our third child, we could put it off no longer. The only practical solution was to sell our modest flat and put the proceeds, along with whatever extra we could muster, towards purchasing a three-bedroom place, even if it meant moving out towards the edge of the city.
Thats precisely what we did. Once our sale was settled, we bought our long-dreamt-of three-bedroom flat in an old Victorian terraced house. It had been tastefully renovated, so all that was left was to move our furniture in.
Our bliss was short-lived, however, for before long the neighbours from the upper floors banded together, determined to remind us who actually held sway in the old building.
They found fault with us at every turn.
“Why were the front doors left open so long?” they would ask.
“We were moving things in,” Id reply. “Of course the doors needed to be open for a while.”
“Why are you parking your car beneath my windows?” another complained.
“Im simply parking beneath my own window; I live on the first floor. Your windows are just above mine theres not much I can do about that.”
One grievance particularly rattled me.
“Your children come home from nursery and run wild. It disturbs me! And when theyre in, you put on cartoons.”
“But were below you how can our children possibly disturb your peace?”
The final straw came when, only weeks away from delivering our third baby, my pregnant wife was left alone at home and the neighbours descended. They arrived in the afternoon while I was out, and the women began to scold and shout.
“Weve come to have a word.”
“What about?”
“Your husband, when he popped out for a smoke, let a strange man into the building. He walked from door to door offering to copy keys for the entry system.”
“But my husband doesnt smoke,” my wife insisted and indeed, I never have. They then added, “If he copies keys for the entry, any stranger could let themselves in!”
When I returned and learnt what had happened, I marched upstairs and told the neighbours, in no uncertain terms, that enough was enough and it was to stop.
After that episode, an uneasy peace settled over us. We managed to live in harmony, though the neighbours have never so much as greeted us since. Looking back, those days seem very far away now, almost an entirely different life, and I can only shake my head at how fiercely people can cling to the smallest things in a shared house.
