“Your cat stomps too loudly!”
“Turn off that blasted machine! I can’t sleep because of you!” a shout came from behind the door.
Then someone started banging on the flat and pressing the doorbell aggressively. Emily flinched and dropped the remote. Alex stirred groggily.
The bedside lamp cast a dim glow in the room. Outside, the sticky summer heat clung to the air. Emily wrapped herself in her dressing gown and shuffled to the door.
Outside stood a woman in her seventies, with thin lips and a scowl. She wore a plain cotton dress and clutched a mobile phone.
“Excuse me, but who are you?” Emily asked, keeping the door closed. She was nervous.
“I’m Margaret Williams! I live on the floor below you. That rattling contraption above my window keeps me awake! Turn it off at once, or I’ll call the police. You’re making noise at unreasonable hours!”
Emily tried to get a word in, but Margaret carried on without pause.
“Honestly, the nerve of some people! The whole building suffers because of you!”
“It’s really not that loud…” Emily ventured carefully. “We even tested it with the window open.”
“Not as loud to you, maybe! My heart’s pounding from the racket!”
“Alright, we’ll turn it off,” Emily conceded reluctantly. “We just didn’t realise it was bothering anyone…”
“Well, now you do,” Margaret snapped.
Footsteps faded down the hallway.
Emily returned to the bedroom and switched off the air conditioner. She threw open all the windows and the balcony doors, but it barely helped. The heat rolled in like a stifling wave. Alex tossed and turned before finally giving up and retreating to the shower. Emily lay staring at the ceiling.
This wasn’t how they’d imagined their first summer in their new flat.
…They’d only bought this two-bedroom place a few months ago. Last summer in their rented flat had been a nightmare—bowls of cold water, open windows, a fan just pushing hot air around. Taking out the mortgage had made Emily’s hands shake, but at least they’d thought no one could dictate how they lived anymore.
Turns out, someone still could.
The next morning, Emily bumped into another neighbour, Natalie, in the lift. They’d already met—she’d even helped her fix a leaky tap once.
“Listen, Nat,” Emily leaned against the wall, “we turned on the air con last night, and someone complained. Is it really that noisy?”
Natalie raised her eyebrows.
“Let me guess. Margaret Williams?”
Emily nodded.
“Ah. She complains about us too. First it’s the telly, then my son laughing too loud. Once she said our cat jumped too loudly. But we’re used to it. She rings up maybe twice a month. It’s manageable.”
Emily couldn’t help but smile.
“Your cat? Seriously?”
“Yep,” Natalie confirmed. “We don’t even use the telly anymore—just headphones. Bit trickier with the kid and the cat, though.”
Later, Emily ran into Adam on the stairs. He had the exact same air con model, mounted right under Margaret’s window.
“Adam, does she ever complain to you?”
“Not really. Though mine’s pretty noisy. My mate said it was installed wrong—rattles sometimes. Guess she must like me,” he smirked.
“Has anyone else complained about us?”
“Never. You two are quiet as mice. No kids, no drills, not even a dog.”
Somehow, the neighbours’ answers didn’t reassure Emily. She turned the air con on again and listened from outside. Barely a whisper.
So what was the real problem? Maybe it wasn’t about decibels at all. Emily began to suspect Margaret simply didn’t like them—that anything to do with the new neighbours irritated her. Or maybe she just couldn’t stand anyone else being comfortable. Some people were like that.
Ever since Margaret had appeared at their door, their lives had become unbearable. Each evening, they’d blast the air con, hoping the coolness would last just a little longer before they had to shut the windows. They set an alarm for 10:59 PM. If they lingered even a minute past, she’d hammer on the radiators and yell. Five minutes? She’d show up in person.
To survive the sweltering nights, they resorted to the fan by the window—louder than the air con, yet oddly unobjectionable to Margaret.
They even called a technician, wanting to be responsible neighbours. He inspected the outdoor unit and made a few adjustments.
“Tightened the mounts and added soundproofing pads. Honestly, it was already quiet—now it barely hums. Any quieter would be impossible, and unnecessary,” he concluded.
Emily smiled in relief. Maybe now they could sleep in peace.
But just two days later, at 11:03 PM, the phone rang.
“Have you got that thing on again?” Margaret’s voice was sharp. “My walls are shaking! My blood pressure’s through the roof!”
“We had a technician check it. He said it’s barely making any noise. We’ve done everything we can…”
“Your technician isn’t the one listening to it all night! Turn it off now, or I’ll report you!”
Alex sighed and switched it off. Another night under the fan.
Gradually, Emily noticed Margaret wasn’t exactly quiet herself. Sometimes her phone conversations carried through the walls, sharp and screeching—even at night.
“Some daughter you are! Only call when you need money!” Margaret would shriek. “Everyone’s abandoned me! Everyone!”
Emily tried not to listen, but the noise was impossible to ignore. Oddly, those outbursts left her feeling uneasy—as if she’d been dragged into someone else’s misery.
One sleepless night, lying under a thin sheet with the fan’s rattle in her ears, Emily remembered how she used to fall asleep to the sound of drills and muffled music. Not ideal, but livable.
They’d never once complained. They understood living in a block of flats meant tolerating others. Everyone annoyed someone a little—that was just life.
Except for Margaret.
Late August was stifling, so when Emily’s parents invited them to their countryside cottage, they didn’t hesitate. The fresh air was a relief. They’d sweat over garden chores, sure, but at least Margaret wouldn’t be there.
They packed in an hour, unplugged everything, and left. The evening was perfect—corn on the cob, laughter, easy conversation. The only debate was whether to barbecue steaks or fish the next day.
But at half past one, Alex’s phone buzzed. He grabbed it, groggy, expecting an alarm—but the screen flashed *Margaret Williams*.
“Again?” Emily groaned.
“You guessed it.”
“For heaven’s sake, what now?”
Emily propped herself up. Had a pipe burst? Why else would Margaret call at this hour?
Alex answered on speaker, bracing for another rant.
“Hello?”
“Are you having a laugh?!” Margaret’s voice was hoarse with fury. “That racket’s back! I haven’t slept a wink!”
Alex paused. Emily scanned the room—no, they were definitely at the cottage.
“Margaret… we’re not even home. We’re away. The flat’s empty—everything’s off.”
“Liar! I can hear it! I’ll have a heart attack, and it’ll be on your heads!”
Emily wanted to argue back, but Margaret’s tirades left no room for interruption. After another half-minute of abuse, the call ended abruptly.
Alex dropped the phone under his pillow with a sigh. Emily rubbed her temples.
“Even here, she won’t leave us alone… Alex, there’s something wrong with her. This isn’t about us anymore, is it?”
“No. But knowing that doesn’t help.”
The next morning, Emily’s mum headed into town for a doctor’s appointment. Emily asked her to check the flat on the way back—just to be sure.
Her mum called immediately.
“Love, it’s all off. Dead quiet. Just the fridge humming—and even that, only if you press your ear to it.”
“Right… so it’s not the air con,” Emily concluded.
That realisation weighed even heavier. A difficult neighbour was one thing—but this felt disturbingly irrational.
Margaret seemed to resent their very existence.
And it hurt. They’d lost sleep, endured headaches, paid for technicians, even considered buying a new unit. They’d bent over backwards to be polite and accommodating. For what? To please someone who couldn’t be pleased?
“Em, she’s just tormenting us. I’ve had enough,” Alex said as they packed to leave. “I’m blocking her number. And disabling the doorbell—or we’ll lose our minds too.”
Emily nodded. “Same. If it’s urgent, they can knock. We’ve still got the peephole. And no more answering the door after ten.”
The relief was instant—like a weight lifted. No more explaining, justifying, proving innocence. Just cool nights, undisturbed.And so, with the air conditioning humming softly and the summer nights finally peaceful, they learned that sometimes the kindest thing you can do is set a boundary—not out of spite, but to protect the quiet joy of your own life.
