My brother wants to move his new girlfriend into our flatI asked both of them to leave
Well now, Alice, you see my point, don’t you? Darren leans back in the kitchen chair as if he owns the place, idly twirling a toothpick. Sophie and I, we’ve decided to give things a proper go. No more jumping from place to placewe’re grown-ups. You lot have a three-bed here, room to spare! The back roomyour study, right? Hardly use it most of the time.
Alice freezes, tea towel dangling from her hands. For a moment, she thinks she must have misheard him. The comforting smell of beef stew and leek wafts around from the stove, and outside, she can hear the mild patter of an English spring rain. And here, around this table, something utterly surreal is unfolding. She glances at her husband, Tom. Hes sitting opposite, pushing his mash around the plate as though its nuclear waste.
Darren, Alice tries for calm, though she can feel irritation building in her belly, youve been living here almost four months. We agreed, two weeks, while you sorted out a job and a flat. You still havent found a job, and now you want to bring your girlfriend in too?
Oh, dont get all huffy, Darren pulls a face like hes nursing toothache. Havent done this, havent done that. Im finding myself. Im not about to ruin my back doing delivery jobs, am I? Got a bit more refinement than that. And Sophieshes special. Plus, shes going through something, fallen out with her mum. Where else can I take her, a bench at the station?
Darren, that really isnt our problem, Alice puts the towel down, voice firm. We have our own routines. I work from home in the evenings, and I need that study. My blueprints, computer, paperwork are in there.
Oh come off it, Alice, Tom finally pipes up, eyes fixed on the table. Theres plenty of space. Just bring your computer into our bedroom for a while. Theyll stay for a month, maybe two, get on their feet. Hes family after allcant just throw my own brother out on the streets.
Alice glares at him, a long, heavy look. Tom knows full well what it took for her to get this flatfive years of mortgage, two jobs, night shifts, no holidays. She paid it off herself, to the last penny, before they married. Tom came into it with, well, a battered laptop and a fishing rod collection. And now here he is, parcelling out her square footage like its a hostel.
Tom, come with me for a word, she says, tone cold enough to frost glass.
In their bedroom, she closes the door softly.
Are you joking? A month, maybe two? She rounds on him. Your brothers been lounging about, hasnt chipped a single pound in! And now his girlfriend, too? I havent even met the girl!
Dont get wound up, Tom tries to slip an arm round her. She shakes him off. Darren just needs someone right now. Sophies nice, honestly, quiet as a mouse. Theyll spend their time in the back room; youll hardly know theyre here. Please, give a bit for me. Even Mum called and asked if wed help. Shell have a proper panic if she finds out Darrens homeless.
Mention of ValerieToms motheris always a low blow. He knows Alice does her best to keep things civil, and likes to use that.
Fine, Alice grits out, feeling shes making a mistake. A month. Exactly. No parties, no noise, and no mess. And Im not clearing out my desk. They can kip on the sofa.
Tom grins, kisses her cheek and dashes off to share the news with his brother. Alice is left staring at her tired reflection, wondering why its so hard to simply say no.
The quiet Sophie arrives the next evening, all pink hair, nose ring and two enormous suitcases. She breezes in like shes gracing the place with her presence.
All right, she mutters, earbud firmly in place, wheeling her suitcase straight across Alices freshly cleaned laminate, headed for the study. Blimey, bit snug in here. Darren, you said the room was big.
Alice, smile plastered on with effort, feels it falter.
Hi, Sophie. We take our shoes off at the door. And your case wheels are muddy.
Sophie throws a glance up and down Alice and shrugs, Ill clean it later. She bellows out, Darren, get the other bag. Its heavy!
So dawns a new era in Alices home. Later never comes. Alice ends up cleaning the scuff marks herself because she cant bear the disorder.
The first three days are almost peaceful, save for Sophie monopolising the bathroom for hours while using up Alices expensive shower gel. But Saturday, the real chaos kicks in.
Alice is woken by raucous laughter and the distinct smell of burning. Her precious lie-in, after a week of wrangling freelance deadlines, is ruined. She throws on her dressing gown and heads for the kitchen.
What meets her would suit a disaster movie: dirty dishes stacked Everest-high, open tins and bread crumbs everywhere. Sophie, in only Darrens t-shirtbarely covering the essentialsis scraping something charred from Alices favourite non-stick pan with a metal fork.
Whats going on? Alices voice is trembling.
Oh, youre up! Darren greets her cheerily, a pint in hand at 9am. We wanted to surprise you with breakfast, go all romantic. Pancakes, see, but they caught a bit. Dunno, your batters odd.
Alice makes a beeline for the pan, grabs it away. The bottom is irrevocably gouged.
Why are you using a fork? Who said you could take this pan?
Sophie pouts, attitude defensive. Its just a pan. Dont be stingy, Alice. We even made extra for you.
Ive asked you not to call me Alice-y, Alice says quietly, barely suppressing her rage. Clean up this mess. Now.
Sophie scoffs, What a mood. Darren, lets go. Ive lost my appetite.
They vanish, leaving Alice alone in their wake. Tom emerges at last, pretending hed been in the loo the whole time.
This is the last time, Alice bites out, scrubbing the mess with vehemence. One more disrespectful act, and theyre out.
Shes just young, doesnt know better, Tom mutters, eyes on the floor. Ill have a word, promise. Well get you a new pan.
Its not about the pan. Its about respect. This is my home, not a halfway house!
The week crawls by. Alice works late just to avoid the youngsters. Every night brings a new frustration: goulash vanishes from the fridge, wet towels are left everywhere, loud music thunders from the back room at ungodly hours.
Darren sprawls about all day, controller in hand, TV commandeered for his consoles, spouting business schemes. Sophie neither works nor studies, just scrolls online and lives on her phone.
The last straw comes Thursday: Alices day-long work trip to Birmingham. She arrives home knackered, only to trip over a box in the hallway. She flicks on the lightits her box, packed with her design folders. Monitor perched precariously on top.
Heart pounding, she rushes to the studythe door is open. The room is unrecognisable. Her desk is dismantled, parts shoved on the balcony, replaced by a battered chest of drawers. Posters stapled haphazardly to the walls. An air mattress on the floor, the sofa buried under a heap of clothes.
In the middle sits Sophie, painting her nails. Darren is drilling a shelf into the wall.
What… what have you done? Alices voice is a whisper but cuts through the hum.
Oh, Alice, youre back! Darren grins. Just brightening up the place a bit for Sophie, you know? The desk took up too much room, so we put it on the balcony while its mild out. Made a little relaxation zone.
My desk is on the balcony?” Alice can barely breathe. Its veneeritll swell! Youve left my monitor in the hall!
Itll be fine, says Sophie, blowing her nails. Its loads bigger in here now. We needed more personal space. Young couple, after all.
Wheres Tom?”
Shop, getting beers. We wanted to celebrate the redo. Join us, if you lose the strop.
Tom arrives, bags in hand, just as Alice steps out.
You knew? she demands.
They wanted to surprise you… make it cosy… I thought, well, the desk is old
Old? I bought that Italian desk with two months salary! You let them bin my things? In my flat?
Its not just your flat
Dont, Alice cuts in. Your idea of family seems to be your brother and his loudmouth, while Im just the cleaning lady funding the roof.
Who are you calling a loudmouth?! Sophie bursts in.
Alice never feels lighter than at that moment. Fear, doubt, guiltall vanish, leaving only crystal clarity.
You have twenty minutes. Pack your things and leave.
You what? Darren gawks.
Twenty minutes. Out.
Youre barking! Tom, do something! Shes lost it!
Tom hesitates. He sees whats written in Alices eyes. Side with them now, and hes out too. That much is clear.
Darren… youd better go. Youve crossed the line. She really loves that desk.
Oh, stuff your desk and your flat! Darren throws the drill down. Ill go to Mums, shell hear about this! Never stepping foot here again!
Thank goodness, says Alice. Get your things, quickly.
Chaos ensues. Sophie sweeps belongings into her suitcases, grabbing random bits.
Leave the hairdryer and my face cream, Alice remarks coolly.
Sophie tosses them down, snarling.
Fifteen minutes later, theyre standing in the hallway.
No, Im not calling you a taxi. Its a five-minute walk to the bus stop.
We wont forget this! Darren bellows. Youre a witch, Alice! And you, Tom, henpecked wimp!
The door slams. Silence falls, echoing.
Alice slides down onto the hallway stool, hands shaking.
Tom, standing in the middle of the corridor with the carrier bags, looks utterly useless.
Did you really call the police? he whispers.
She shakes her head, shows her black screen. No. But I would have, if they hadnt left.
She goes to the study. The monitors scratched; there are holes in the wallpaper.
Tomorrow youll bring my desk back, she says, not looking at Tom. If its damaged, you pay for repairs. From your money, not ours. Youll redo the wallpaper.
Of course. Absolutely, Alice. Ill start now
Its not just about furniture, Tom. You let your relatives humiliate me in my own home. Let them touch my things. You didnt stand up for me.
I know. Im sorry, honestly. I just… didnt think theyd be so cheeky.
You always knew what Darrens like. But youd rather be everyones mate than stick up for me.
Alice moves to the kitchen. The mess is still there, but without the blaring music and alien presence, its just dishes, not an invasion.
Youll tidy all of this, she throws back. Im having a bath. If you want to keep living here, by the time Im out, I want this kitchen spotless and all trace of their stench gone.
Tom doesnt argue, just shrugs off his coat, rolls up his sleeves, and starts scrubbing. The rattle of plates and splash of water are the sweetest music Alices heard for weeks.
She runs the bath, tips in whats left of the fancy bubbles Sophie hadnt used up, and slides under. For the first time in a month, the tension in her neck eases.
Her phone pings: Valerie. Alice doesnt bother readingshe knows: accusations, heart-problems, curses. She blocks the number, then Darrens too.
Thats better, she thinks.
An hour later, she emerges to find the kitchen shining. Tom, grimy but eager, is mopping the floor.
I did everything. Took your desk inits ok, just a mark on the leg; Ill fix it. Monitors still working. Rubbish is gone.
Alice pours a glass of water and sips, watching city lights blur behind raindrops.
Good.
Er… Aliceare we, you know, over?
She takes a long look at the citys shimmer.
Not yet. But youre on probation. And one more request for your familys sakeyour bags will be on the landing.
I swear, never again.
Well see.
She goes to bed and for the first time in ages, sleeps soundly, stretched starfish across the mattress, untroubled by the snoring or midnight steps of any houseguests. In the morning, she wakes to the smell of coffee. Toms made her a breakfast of burnt toast and syrupy coffeeits a start.
Over breakfast, Tom says, Maybe we should change the locks? Just in caseI forgot to get Darrens keys.
Alice lifts an eyebrowhis first proper decision in months.
Yes. Call the locksmith, now.
Life settles back. Trust with Tom needs repairno quick fixbut Alice kept her boundaries. Sometimes, she realises, you have to be the witch to save your home and sanity. Its worth a scratched pan and some frazzled nerves.
As for Darren and Sophie? Alice hears, via mutual friends, they split up a fortnight later. Sophie landed a boyfriend with a flat, and Darren found himself back with his mum, moaning about heartless in-laws ruining his life.
But that, thankfully, is someone elses problem now.
