“A guest is welcomed twice—once when they arrive, and once when they leave,” my brother Oliver transformed our weekend into a test of endurance.
“Sasha, you remember your brother and his wife are visiting this weekend, don’t you?” Tanya, my wife, reminded me, stirring a pot on the stove.
“Of course I remember,” I grumbled, though I’d nearly forgotten. Life had been too peaceful without Oliver looming over us.
Every summer, my brother would haul himself and his wife to our cottage in the Cotswolds, supposedly for a “holiday”—only for Tanya and me to spend the rest of the week recovering from it. He brought with him… not just his wife, but the dreadful sensation of hosting your own surprise party, where you’re also expected to cook and entertain.
They arrived three hours early. Before I could even step outside, his voice boomed through the garden:
“Blimey, Sasha! Your place is smashing! Mind if I air out my socks right here?”
He draped them over the back of a patio chair. Tanya’s eyes widened. I exhaled.
“Lunch ready?” he asked without preamble.
“We’ve only just had breakfast,” I muttered.
“Ah, well, no matter! Millie and I brought treats—éclairs, half-off since they expire tomorrow! And a melon, marked down too! Put the kettle on, will you?”
By the time I’d washed my hands, he was already slurping down the melon, juice dribbling down his chin. Tanya stood frozen, as if struck dumb.
“Right, we’ll just pop off to our room for a kip, same as last time, yeah?” And without waiting, he marched straight to our bedroom. The master bedroom.
I shot Tanya a look.
“He has back problems, love… and our mattress is better…” she whispered.
“Just two days, Sasha,” she added, reading my expression.
At that moment, I knew: these would be the longest two days of my life.
By evening, our daughter Emily arrived with her husband, Ian, and the boys, Alfie and Tommy. The kids bounded through the house, proudly displaying their backpacks stuffed with toys and snacks—they were off to summer camp in the morning.
Dinner stretched into the night: Ian tinkered with the car, Oliver and Millie napped while the rest of us waited. For a moment, it almost felt normal—grilled sausages, laughter, children. Until disaster struck.
“Em, have you seen the car keys? I left them right here on the table…” Ian patted his pockets frantically. “We’ll miss the train if we don’t find them.”
Chaos erupted. We tore the house apart, even moved the fridge. The boys sniffled on the verge of tears. Only one person remained unfazed: Oliver, calmly polishing off the last sausage.
“Always this lively round here?” he chuckled. “Thank God Millie and I never had grandkids—we’d go barmy!”
Tanya bit her lip. Emily leaned in and whispered, “Dad, what if I press the key fob? If they’re nearby, it’ll beep.”
Ian hurried outside while the rest of us held our breath. Then—a sound. A faint chirp. Coming from the sofa? No, the armchair. No—Oliver’s bloody satchel.
“Uncle Oliver, is this your bag?” Emily asked.
“Course it is. What of it?”
“The beeping’s coming from inside… Mind if I check?”
“Rubbish—how’d they end up in there?” He scoffed.
Emily unzipped it anyway and pulled out the keys. Ours. With the fob.
“Ian! Found them! Quick, to the car!”
They dashed off. I turned to my brother.
“How did our keys end up in your bag?”
“Search me, Sasha. Must’ve been Millie—saw ‘em lying about, assumed they were mine.” He jerked his chin toward his wife.
“Exactly!” Millie chimed in. “Thought they’d gone astray, so I popped them with his. No need for all this drama!”
After they’d gone, Tanya and I sat on the porch.
“Did you see them leave? Couldn’t even be bothered with a proper goodbye…”
“Sasha… he’s always been like this. Remember how he used to shield you from Dad’s temper when you were boys?”
I sighed. I did. But now he was a grown man who ate our cheese, slept in our bed, and swiped bloody car keys.
At dawn, he was already up, as usual.
“Millie and I helped ourselves to breakfast—finished off that roast beef and cheddar in the fridge. Lovely spot you’ve got here, like a proper retreat! Shame we’ve got to go…”
As their car vanished down the lane, Tanya slumped onto the steps.
“A guest is welcomed twice, Sasha. Once when they arrive—and once when they leave.”
I nodded. And for the first time in two days, I smiled.
