Well just stay here until summer!: How I kicked out my husbands shameless relatives and changed the locks
The old intercom didnt just ringit howled for attention. I glanced at the grandfather clock: seven oclock, Saturday morning. The only day Id planned to sleep in after finishing the companys quarterly report, not entertain visitors. On the small screen flickered the face of my sister-in-law. Emily, my husband Williams sister, looked as if she were about to storm the Tower of London, and behind her loomed the uneven heads of her three wild children.
William! I bellowed without picking up the receiver. Your familys at the door. Deal with them.
My husband stumbled out of the bedroom, yanking his shorts on the wrong way round. He knew this tone left no room for negotiationthe last drops of my patience for his kin had long since vanished. While he tried to mumble something into the intercom, I stood arms crossed in the hallway. My home, my rules. Id bought this three-bedroom flat in central London years before we married, paid off the mortgage by sweat and late nights, and the last thing I wanted was for strangers to take it over.
The door flew open, and into my carefully curated, lavender-scented corridor crashed a whole circus. Emily, loaded with bags, didnt even pause to greet me. She simply barged past, nudging me aside as if I were an umbrella stand.
Oh, thank goodness, we made it! she panted, dumping her things straight onto the Italian tile floor. Alice, why are you blocking the doorway? Put the kettle on, will you? The children are starving after that train ride.
Emily, I said, keeping my tone even and calm, while William cringed in the background. What is going on?
What, Will didnt tell you? Her eyes widened as she donned her usual air of innocent simplicity. Theres work being done at ours! Major workpipes everywhere, floors torn up, cant live there, dust everywhere. Well stay here just a week or so until its done. Surely this place is big enough for all of us? Youve got so many empty rooms.
My gaze darted to my husband, who responded by studying the ceiling, knowing hed get an earful later.
William?
Alice, honestly, he pleaded. Its my sister. Where are they meant to go, with the kids and all that dust? It really is just for a week.
A week, I repeated crisply. Exactly seven days. You get your own food. The kids dont run through the flat, no touching the walls, and nobodys allowed within a yard of my study. And silence after ten at night.
Emily scoffed, rolling her eyes. Oh, Alice, youre a right old jailer. Whats all the fuss? Anyway, where do we sleep? Surely not on the floor?
Thus began the descent into madness.
A week spooled into two. Then three. My once immaculate flat, designed with care, was devolving into a tip. The foyer was a never-ending heap of muddy shoes, which I tripped over daily. Chaos reigned in the kitchen: greasy stains on the countertops, crumbs and sticky patches everywhere. Emily behaved as if she were Lady of the Manor and we were the staff.
Alice, whats with the empty fridge? she once complained, peering into the barren shelves. The kids need yogurt, and Will and I fancied a bit of meat. You earn wellyou could look after family, couldnt you?
Youve got a bank card and theres a shop downstairs, I said, not looking up from my laptop. Off you go. Theres 24-hour delivery as well.
Stingy, she muttered, slamming the fridge so hard the jars rattled. You cant take it with you when youre gone, you know.
But that wasnt the final straw. Everything truly changed the day I got home early from work and caught the children in my bedroom. The eldest was bouncing on my bedthe expensive orthopaedic mattress, mindwhile the youngest was happily drawing on the wallpaper. With my lipstick. Tom Ford, limited edition.
OUT! I roared so fiercely that the children scattered like startled rabbits.
The commotion brought Emily running. On seeing the scribbled wallpaper and broken lipstick, she simply threw up her hands.
Oh, come on, stop making a fuss! Theyre just children. Its just a bit of scribble, youll get it off. And that lipstick, honestlyits just a greasy stick. You can get another, cant you? Anyway, weve been thinking. The builders are uselessabsolutely hopeless. Looks like well stay until summer. It must be lonely for you and Will anyway, and were good fun!
William stood silently beside mea complete pushover.
I said nothing. I just retreated to the bathroom so I wouldnt do something drastic. I needed to breathe.
That evening, Emily left her mobile on the kitchen table while she went for a bath. The screen lit up with a message, bold and clear, from Mary Lettings Agent:
Emily, transferred next months rent. The tenants are happy, can they extend their stay until August?
A bank notification followed: New funds received: £760.
And suddenly, everything made sense. There was no building work. The audacious woman had let her own grimy flateither as a holiday let or by the monthraking in easy money and come here to sponge off me. Saving on groceries and bills, plus passive income. A tidy little business. At my expense.
I took my own phone and snapped a photo of her screen. My hand didnt so much as wobble. Cold clarity descended.
William, come into the kitchen, I called.
He came in, and I wordlessly showed him the photo. He read it, flushing, then going pale.
Alice, maybe its a mistake?
The only mistake is that you havent thrown them out yet, I replied, calm as you like. Youve got a choice. By lunchtime tomorrow theyre gone, or you are. Your mother, your sister, all of themout.
But where will they go?
I dont care. Under Waterloo Bridge if they must. Or the Ritz, if they can afford it.
The next morning, as calm as anything, Emily announced she was off shoppingshed spotted a gorgeous pair of boots, presumably bought with her tenants rent. She graciously left the children with William, whod taken a day off.
I waited until I heard the door close behind her.
William, take the kids and go for a long walk in the park.
Why?
Because this house is about to be fumigated for vermin.
Once theyd gone, I phoned a locksmith. Then the local constable.
The game of hospitality was over. Now the battle for my turf began.
Alice, maybe its a mistake? Williams words echoed from the night before as I watched the locksmith change the lock barrel.
No mistakes. Only cold logic.
The locksmith, a broad man with a tattoo on his forearm, worked briskly.
Good, solid door, he nodded. But this locks a beast. No ones getting through this one without an angle grinder.
Exactly what I want. I need reliability.
I paid him a sum that would easily buy a decent dinner at The Ivy, but my peace of mind was worth every penny. Then I tackled the belongings. No sentimentality. I grabbed heavy black bin bags120 litres, the strongest availableand swept all their stuff inside: Emilys bras, the childrens tights, scattered toys. I didn’t fold, I crammed. Emilys mountains of cosmeticscluttering every shelf in my bathroomwere swept in with a single movement.
Within forty minutes, a mountain of five stuffed bin liners stood on the landing. Two suitcases sat by their side.
When the lift pinged open and released the local bobby, I stood at the door with my folder of documents.
Good afternoon, Constable, I said, handing over the title deeds and my passport. Im the owner. Only Im registered here. In a moment, individuals without any rights to be here will try to break in. Please record the attempted illegal entry.
The young policeman, with tired eyes, leafed through the paperwork.
Family, maam?
Former family, I smirked. Were experiencing an unfortunate escalation in a property dispute.
Emily turned up an hour laterladen with bags from Harrods, beaming. Her smile vanished at the sight of the bin bags and my presence at the threshold with the constable.
Whats all this? she shrieked, pointing at the bags. Alice, have you lost your mind? Thats all my stuff!
Exactly, I said, folding my arms. Your stuff. Take it. The hotels closed.
She tried to push past, but the constable blocked her.
Excuse me, madam. Do you live here? Are you registered at this address?
I Im the mans sister! Were guests! she whined, turning to me, face flushed red. What on earth are you doing, you silly cow? Wheres Will? Ill call him now, just you watch!
Be my guest, I said. But he wont answer. Hes explaining to the kids why their mother is such an entrepreneur.
She rang him, again, and again. Nothing. William, it seemed, had finally grown a spine. Or perhaps just feared divorceseeing as hed walk away with nothing.
Youve no right! Emily screeched, hurling one of her bags onto the floor. A shoebox tumbled out, spilling new shoes. Theres building work at mine! Weve nowhere to go! Ive got the children!
Stop lying, I said, stepping closer, staring hard. Say hi to Mary for me, will you? And ask if the tenants will be staying on until August, or if youll need to kick them out to move home yourself?
Emily froze mid-tantrum, mouth agape. All the hot air fled from her, like a punctured balloon.
How how did you
Should have locked your phone, businesswoman. Youve lived off me for a month, eaten my food, wrecked my home, renting out your flat to save up for a new motor? Impressive. But now listen. Carefully.
I dropped my voice, each word as sharp and cold as a slap in that echoing hallway.
Youre taking these bags and leavingnow. If I see you or your children within a mile of this building again, Ill notify HMRC about your undeclared rental income. Theyll take an interest. And Ill report a theftone of my gold rings has gone missing. Wouldnt it be awkward if they happened to find it in one of your bags?
(The ring, of course, was still safely in my jewellery case. Not that Emily knew that.) She blanched so completely her foundation looked like a mask.
You witch, Alice, she seethed. God will judge you.
Gods busy, I said firmly. And now, so am I. This flat is mine again.
She snatched her bin liners, cursing under her breath as she struggled to order an Uber with shaking hands. The constable looked on, slightly bored but pleased he wouldnt be writing a report today.
When the lift doors closed on her, her bags and her shattered plans, I turned to the young officer.
Thank you for your service.
Any time, he grinned. But youre best off with a sturdy lock.
I stepped back into my flat and closed the door. The click of the new lock echoedsolid and certain. The sharp scent of bleach cut through the air: the cleaning service had already finished the kitchen and were hard at work on the bedroom.
William returned two hours later. Alone. Hed handed the children back to Emily as she was loading the taxi. He came in, peeking nervously around as if expecting a trap.
Alice shes gone.
I know.
She was shouting all sorts about you
I dont care what rats shout as theyre thrown off the ship.
I sat in the kitchen, sipping fresh coffee from my favourite, unchipped mug. There were no crayon marks on the wall anymoretheyd been scrubbed clean. In the fridge were only my own things.
Did you know about the letting? I asked, staring at the window.
No! Honestly, Alice! If I had
If you had, youd have stayed quiet about it, I finished coldly. Listen closely, William. This is the last time. Next stunt like this from your family, and your suitcases are out on the landing beside theirs. Understood?
He nodded, quickly, fear in his eyes. He knew I meant it.
I took another sip of coffee.
It was perfect.
Hot, strong and, most importantly, enjoyed in the peaceful, absolute silence of my own home.
And the crown didnt pinch. It fitted, as if made just for me.
