Simon, you must be joking? Please tell me this is some sort of awful prank and Ill laugh, and then well sit down for dinner like normal people, I said, standing frozen in the kitchen with a wooden spoon dangling from my hand, staring at my husband as he shifted uneasily in the hallway, shuffling his feet and avoiding my eyes.
Simon and I had been happily married for twenty-three years, and although he was generally steady as a rock, he now resembled a schoolboy called to the headteacher after breaking a window pane. He fumbled with his coat button, refusing to meet my gaze.
No joke, Libby. Honestly. It’s a tricky situation. Shes got nowhere else to go, literally. The lady whose flat she was renting had a meltdown, threw her stuff into the corridor, changed the locks, no warning. Shes out in the street, cant afford a hotel, paydays not for a week. Were not monsters, are we, Libby? Just a couple of nights, thats alluntil she finds somewhere else.
I slid the spoon back into the pot, turned the heat off beneath the stew, and dried my hands on my apron as I walked into the hall. That old, unwelcome chill began to spread inside me. I knew my husbandkind, soft-hearted, always ready to help the downtrodden. At uni, hed drag home stray kittens; later, it was drunken mates on the sofa when their wives threw them out. But bringing a strange woman into our home was a new one.
Which colleague? I asked, my voice low. You told me the logistics team was all men except for Marion, whos in her sixties and has a football squad of grandchildren.
Simon mumbled hastily, Ah, its the new starterCharlotte. Shes just transferred from another branch. Shes switched on, proper nice. Libby, really, imagine yourself in her shoes. Shes out there, sitting in her car, crying her eyes out. All her things are in the boot. Wheres she supposed to go at this hour?
Sitting in the car? So youve already brought her? My voice was sharp. Without even asking me?
I couldnt just leave her there, Libby! Its pouring out, and shes got no one.
I exhaled deeply. Kicking someone back onto the street that late didnt sit right with my upbringing, nor my conscience. Still, my instinctthat sixth sense that had yet to fail me in fifty yearswas screaming: Dont let her in!
Fine, I said curtly. Fetch your Charlotte. She can have the sofa in the sitting room, but only for two nights, Simon. Any longer and wed better open as a bed and breakfast.
Simons face lit up. He pecked my cheek, dashed out the door, and returned moments later, dragging in two enormous pink suitcases, as Charlotte flounced in after himthe cause of tonights family unrest.
The image Id had of a pitiful, down-on-her-luck girl evaporated. Charlotte was around thirty, sharp, and immaculately groomed, in a designer beige coat that hugged her figure, and heels so high I pitied her feet. She wore heavy, sugary perfume that overwhelmed the comforting aroma of dinner in our little hallway.
Oh, hello! Charlotte chirped, whisking off her leather gloves. You must be Libby? Simons told me so much! Sorry for barging in like this, its just my lifes in absolute tatters! My landlady just chucked me outjust like that! Im shaking, honestly!
I couldnt help noting the overfamiliar Simon (as she pronounced it, like a well-loved actor) and the way her eyes greedily scanned the hallway with a surveyors appraisal. She didnt look a bit like a lost soul; there was a cold calculation and a patronising interest in her gaze, not fear.
Good evening, I replied tersely. Come in. Spare slippers just there.
Charlotte gave the slippers a glance as if they might be crawling with germs, and shook her head.
No, thanks, I brought my own, she said, kneeling down (on our clean hallway rug, not bothering to remove her shoes first), opening one suitcase to extract fluffy pink slippers adorned with pompoms.
While Simon fussed with her coat, Charlotte breezed straight into the kitchen ahead of any invitation.
Oh, its cosy in here, she drawled, trailing a manicured finger along the chair. Tiny, but sweet! Simon said you havent redecorated in ages?
I paused. Wed done the kitchen only three years ago and it was my pride and joy: bright, well-kitted, and homey.
It suits us, I said flatly. The bathrooms right there. Ill get you a towel. Are you hungry?
Oh, Im on a diet, Charlotte pressed her hand to her flat tummy. Not a crumb after six. But I cant say no to tea. Simon, darling, make me a coffee? You do it so well at workIm addicted to your coffee.
Simon, lugging her bags through to the sitting room, beamed.
Of course, Charlotte! Coming right up. Libby, is that okay?
It was most certainly not okay. For one, coffee at night is terrible for your sleep. For another, Simon touched our coffee machine once a year at mostI usually made it. And finally, this Charlotte grated my nerves worse than nails on a blackboard.
Go on, then, I said, folding my arms, taking a seat. Ill watch.
The evening became a one-woman show. Charlotte didnt pause for five seconds: tales about her work (apparently, the logistics department would collapse without her), her world travels, her strained relationship with her mum, her rotten luck with men (Theyre all terrified of strong women, you know).
She sat with her legs crossed just so, her silk kimono (changed into from her suitcase, naturally) parted rather more than modesty permits. All her stories were for Simons benefit, as if I were the sideboard only useful for holding sugar.
Simon, remember that dance at the Christmas do? she giggled, stroking Simons sleeve. Everyone said we were the best-matched couple on the floor. You lead so well!
Simon blushed to the roots of his hair.
Oh, yes, well I can manage.
Dancing? I interjected coolly. You hate dancing, Simon. I couldnt even get you up for a waltz at Bens wedding.
Well, that was ages ago! Simon said, flustered. The music was different, thats all.
Oh Libby, you wouldnt believe! Charlotte jumped in. Simons the life and soul! Hes so easy and fun, not like the young managerstheyre obsessed with money. But Simonhes a proper man. Kind, dependable. Youve hit the jackpot! Although she eyed him appraisingly. I think youre holding him back a bit at home. He needs more freedom, more fun!
I stood abruptly. The urge to toss my cold tea over her perfumed hair was nearly unbearable.
Its late, I said. Weve work tomorrow. Charlotte, your bed is made up on the sofa. Fresh beddings on the armchair. Bathrooms free for fifteen minutes, then its Simons turn. Goodnight.
Charlotte pouted. Oh, bed already? We were just getting started! Oh wellrules are rules. Night-night!
I fled to our bedroom, shaking with anger. When Simon came upstairs half an hour later, I faced the wall and didnt move.
Libby, are you awake? he whispered.
Fast asleep, I murmured. And you should be too. Weve got a big day. Got potential to reveal, after all.
The next morning started poorly. I couldnt get into the bathroom. The door was locked, the hairdryer roaring inside, and Charlottes bright singing drifting out. I knocked; she shouted back, Stayed up too late, got to look presentable, got a big meeting!
I glanced at the clockforty minutes till we had to leave. My usual routine took twenty minutes; Charlotte had been in there half an hour already.
When she finally emerged, the bathroom looked like a tornado had struck. Cotton pads everywhere, foundation spattered across the mirror, every surface crowded with makeup and bottles bulldozed from the corner where my toiletries used to live.
Oops, made a bit of a mess, she said, sashaying past me in nothing but a towel. Youre the woman of the house, sure youve got it. Im running late!
I went in, breathing deeply. Two days, I told myself, just two days. You can outlast her.
In the kitchen, Simon was frying eggs, while Charlotte fluttered about trying to helpproffering salt, jabbing a spatula into the pan.
Simon, youll break the yolk doing it like that! Watch, let me show you.
I entered, dressed for the office. Morning. Simon, time to head off if we want to beat the traffic.
What about breakfast? Simon asked in surprise. Charlottes offering to make a French omelette.
Im not hungry. Ill eat at work. Charlotte, I turned to her, do you have a key?
A key? To your house? Of course not, Charlotte blinked her long lashes.
Then youll have to leave with us. I cant leave a stranger alone in my home. Burglar alarm and all that.
Charlottes face fell. But Im not ready! I need to iron a dress! I was hoping to get some sleep, you know, de-stress Simonsay something!
Simon looked desperately at me, then at her.
Libby, cant we just give her the spare keys? Shell be fine, surely
No, I replied firmly. Thats not how we do things here. If everyones out, house is locked. Be ready in ten minutes, Charlotte.
We drove to work silentlyCharlotte sulking in the back, Simon gripping the steering wheel, and me, steady as stone, already planning my next move.
Later I called my friend Sarah, who does property lettings.
Hi Sarah, I need a favourany chance you can check up on a Charlotte Smith? Says she rented a flat on Oak Lane and was thrown out. Does any of that add up?
Oooh, a little investigation! Im in. Theres bound to be gossip in the agents group chats if there was a big drama. Ill ring you tonight.
That evening, I purposely came home earlybefore Simon or Charlotteto check the flat. What I found stopped me in my tracks. The sitting room was chaos, Charlottes suitcases wide open, things strewn everywhere. The collectors bottle of red Simon and I had been saving for our anniversary was empty, with the dregs of some posh cheese on a plate.
But the clincher was in the bathroom. Next to Simons toothbrush was now Charlottesstanding in the same cup, with mine pushed forlornly to the side.
All right, darling, I muttered. War it is.
Simon and Charlotte came in, laughing heartily. She had his arm, bright as always.
Oh, Libby, youre home! Weve been to Waitrosebought lovely treats! Im making dinner to make up for this mornings misunderstanding.
She proceeded to unpackprawns, avocados, fancy steaks.
And whos paying for this? I asked.
Simon treated us! she chirped. Hes so generous! He says you two hardly ever splash outlifes for living, right now!
Behind her, Simon shot me desperate looks (I couldnt stop her!), but I ignored him.
Charlotte, I said calmly, youre making yourself very comfortable here. Toothbrush next to my husbands, drank our good wineI hope youre still looking for a flatand not something else?
Charlotte stopped smiling; her gaze hardened.
What, are you jealous? she sniffed. Good for you. Youve clearly let things slide. Cardigans and casseroles for Simon, but men need a bit of sparkle. Hes come out of his shell since I arrivedyou noticed?
I have, I nodded. A bit like a dandelion on a pavementlooks lively for a week, then its strimmed down. Not much staying power.
My phone rang. It was Sarah.
Libby, just so you know, your Charlottes never rented anything on Oak Lane. Shes got her own one-bed on the other side of townits on a mortgage. No eviction, no drama. She just started a major refurb, knocked everything throughcant live there now so shes freeloading. Well, that and maybe hoping to find a man; shes apparently divorced and on the hunt for husband number three.
Cheers, Sarah, I replied, hanging up.
I turned to my husband and our guest. Charlotte was sporting an apron and ordering Simon about the onions.
Simon, darling, chop those finer!
Simon, I called, come here a moment. Charlotte, please listen as well.
Something in my tone made them freeze.
Ive just learned some fascinating things, I began, looking Charlotte squarely in the eye. There is no evil landlady. No rental on Oak Lane. But you do own a flat on Gagarin Avenue, which happens to be a building site at the moment. No electricity, no water, full of rubble. Its uninhabitable.
Charlottes cheeks went scarlet. Simon dropped the knife.
What? Charlotte, is this true? You saidyou were sobbing
So what? she screeched, tearing off her apron and throwing it on the table. Yes, I have builders in! What was I supposed to do, breathe dust? Thought youd help out! Youre all just cowardsLibby yells jump and you ask how high. Pathetic!
You lied to me, Simon murmured as it finally dawned on him. You played the sympathy card.
Used you? Please. As if youre worth that much. Middle-aged, average wage, boring. Just needed somewhere comfy to crash. Maybe some fun if you turned out less dull. But living with your warden hereugh, soul-destroying! Shes got you on a lead!
I kept my voice calm. This warden is about to call the police if youre not out, with your suitcases, your toothbrush, and those slippers, in five minutes. Time starts now.
Charlotte snorted, spun on her heel, and rushed to the sitting room, muttering curses as she packed. Three minutes later, she stormed into the hallway in her coat.
Youll never see me here again! And in the office, everyone will know what a cheapskate you are, Simon!
The door slammed. Silence remained.
Simon stood amid checkout prawns and avocados, looking at them as if theyd dropped from Mars, utterly lost and a little pitiful. Just a little.
Well, life and soul, I said, dropping into a chair, shall we eat, or explore your potential?
Simon flopped down, face in hands.
Libby, Im such an idiot.
Agreed, I nodded. Spectacular one.
She criedshe looked so helplessI really, really believed her. I just wanted to help. And she
She just wanted a comfy sofa and a mug to lean on. Simon, youre fifty. Time to start spotting a charlatanor at least check with your wife before moving in a stray woman.
Im sorry, he said, voice muffled. No idea what got into me. Wanted to be a hero, do the right thing. Turns out Im the mug.
I sighed. Good. You understand now. Lets move on. But if I see another colleague darken this doorway againdisaster, flood, or an alien invasionIm changing the locks.
Never again, he swore, eyes shining. Promise. Libbyis there any stew left?
Plenty, I said with a smile. And thats exactly how it should be.
I took the prawns and popped them in the freezer for Christmas. What Simon wantedwhat we both neededwas something real: a hot meal, the honest kind of comfort you cant fake, no matter how shiny the packaging.
A week later, Simon reported that Charlotte had handed in her notice. Apparently, its hard to stick around when everyone sniggers behind your back; once Simon shared the real reason for her homelessness with the lads in the smoking shed, not even the new interns took her seriously.
Thank goodness, I said, watering my plants. The airs cleaner already.
That evening I binned her toothbrush, scalded the cup, and put mine back beside Simons, where it belonged.
This story taught us both a valuable lesson. Simon learned that not everything that glitters or flatters is gold. And I realisedtrusting your husband is good, but double-checking is better. You have to protect your home, even if the enemy wears pink slippers and a sob story.
Because family happiness is not an open house. Its strong walls, and the warmth and safety meant only for two.
