An Uninvited Party
Mildred Thompson was trying on her third outfit of the evening when the first notes of music drifted through the wall from the flat next door. She frowned, tossed the blue blouse aside, and listened. The clock read half past seven—too early to complain, though her neighbour, Veronica, wasn’t the sort to host rowdy gatherings.
“Must be someone’s birthday,” Mildred muttered, pulling on a grey cardigan. “Though she could’ve given a heads-up.”
The music swelled, mingling with laughter and chatter. Mildred pressed her ear to the wall—definitely more than a few voices.
A knock came at the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw Dorothy Ellis from downstairs, her smile tight with forced politeness.
“Evening,” Dorothy said the moment the door opened. “Do you know what Veronica’s celebrating? The whole building can hear it.”
“No idea,” Mildred admitted. “It’s odd—she’s usually so quiet.”
“Or perhaps she’s not there at all,” Dorothy whispered. “What if strangers broke in? You hear all sorts these days…”
They exchanged glances. Veronica lived alone, worked at the library, and kept to herself. Never one for raucous company.
“Let’s check on her together,” Mildred suggested. “If something’s wrong, we’ll call the police.”
Upstairs, music pulsed from beneath Veronica’s door. Mildred rang the bell.
The door swung open. Veronica stood there—but not as Mildred knew her. Dishevelled hair, flushed cheeks, a champagne flute in hand. A sleek red dress replaced her usual attire.
“Oh! My lovely neighbours!” Veronica beamed. “Come in, come in! We’re celebrating!”
“Celebrating what?” Mildred asked, peering past her.
The flat was packed—eight guests at least, well-dressed, clinking glasses. A lavish spread covered the table: cake, canapés, bottles of bubbly.
“What does it matter?” Veronica laughed. “Life’s the celebration! Join us!”
“Veronica, who are these people?” Dorothy pressed. “Where’d they come from?”
“Old friends!” she declared. “We met, we bonded, and now we’re toasting to it!”
A man’s voice called from inside: “Veronica! The toast!”
“Coming!” She turned back. “Do stay—or I’ll pop by later with the full story!”
The door shut. The neighbours stood stunned.
“Something’s off,” Dorothy muttered. “Our Veronica with that lot? One bloke looked downright dodgy.”
“Maybe she’s in love?” Mildred offered.
“At fifty-five? Don’t be daft.”
The music surged, drowning further debate.
Morning brought eerie silence. Mildred had drifted off to the party’s din, which faded around three. Now, the flat next door was tomb-quiet.
In the hall, she met Dorothy.
“Sleep well?” Dorothy smirked. “I didn’t. And this morning, fancy cars were parked outside. Gone now.”
“Guests leaving, I suppose.”
“Exactly. But who were they? And what’s gotten into Veronica?”
At lunch, Mildred spotted Veronica in the grocer’s—back in her usual drab coat, buying bread and cheap sausages.
“Veronica! How was last night’s party?”
Veronica turned. Mildred gasped—her face was ashen, eyes red-raw.
“What party?”
“The guests, the music…”
“Oh, that.” Veronica avoided her gaze. “They had the wrong flat.”
“You invited us in!”
“Can’t recall. Must’ve dreamt it.” She hurried out.
That evening, Mildred knocked. Veronica hesitated before letting her in.
The flat was a wreck: plastic cups, shattered glass, a crumbling cake. The air reeked of foreign perfume and cigarettes.
“What happened here?”
Veronica sank into a chair. “I don’t know how to explain. Yesterday, I came home from work, and… they were here.”
“Who?”
“Strangers. Eating, drinking, playing music. A man in a suit said, ‘Veronica! We’ve waited so long!'”
“What’d you do?”
“What could I do? They acted like they knew me. Asked about my job, my late parents—even my cat, Whiskers, who died last year.”
“Did they steal anything?”
“No. The fridge was stocked with posh food I’d never buy. And money…” Veronica flushed. “There was five thousand quid in my bag. I’d barely enough for bread till payday.”
They fell silent. Outside, children shrieked; a dog barked. Inside, the quiet weighed heavy.
“Mildred,” Veronica whispered. “What if they come back?”
“Do you want them to?”
She stared out the window. “Last night… I felt wanted. Important. They listened, laughed at my jokes. I even danced—first time in twenty years.”
“But you don’t know them.”
“What have I got to lose? This dingy flat? Old furniture? Let them take it. For one night, I was happy.”
Mildred wanted to argue—then the doorbell chimed. A melodic, unfamiliar tune. Veronica gasped.
“They’re back.”
The elegant woman from before entered, followed by the suited man and others.
“Darling! We promised we’d return!” The woman eyed Mildred. “And who’s this?”
“My neighbour, Mildred.”
“Perfect! We’d love to know Veronica’s friends.”
“How do you know her?” Mildred demanded.
“Oh, it’s a long story,” the woman smiled. “We’re old friends. Aren’t we, Veronica?”
Veronica nodded, though doubt flickered in her eyes.
“What exactly do you do?” Mildred pressed.
“We help people,” the man said. “Those needing… companionship. Understanding. A little aid. Veronica fits perfectly.”
Mildred’s unease grew. Too charming, too knowing. How’d they peg Veronica’s loneliness?
“Veronica, maybe we should—”
“Discuss what?” Veronica cut in. “They’re here! For me! Come in, everyone!”
The party reignited—music, laughter, effortless charm. Veronica glowed under their attention, her mundane tales treated like grand adventures.
“You wanted to be a ballerina as a girl, remember?” the woman said.
“How’d you know? I’ve never told anyone.”
“You did. Last night.”
Mildred knew that was a lie.
At midnight, the guests prepared to leave.
“We’ll return,” the man promised.
“When?” Veronica asked hopefully.
“Soon.”
They left behind the same mess—and more money.
“Mildred,” Veronica counted the notes, “I don’t care if they’re frauds. For once, I’m seen.”
“And if they’re dangerous?”
“Then at least I’ll have been happy first.”
The raw truth stung.
“Next time,” Mildred said, “I’ll stay with you. Find out who they really are.”
“You think they’ll come back?”
“I know it.”
Veronica nodded. For the first time in days, her smile reached her eyes.
Dawn crept in as they tidied. Mildred puzzled over the strangers’ motives. Veronica simply waited—warmed by the hope of their return.
