Sarah remembered the day her sisterinlaw Emily turned up at their London flat without so much as a knock. She had just set the shopping bags downmilk, vegetables and a sack of buckwheatwhen she heard the unfamiliar clack of boots in the hallway.
Whose boots are those? Leopardprint, no less, Sarah thought, staring at three pairs of the flashy shoes that now lined the runner. We werent expecting any guests.
James, her husband, emerged from the living room, rubbing his neck as if hed just broken Mums favourite vase and was trying to hide the shards. He looked as guilty as a schoolboy caught with a cheat sheet.
Dont worry, love, he began, and a cold shiver ran down Sarahs spine. Those words usually prefaced a story about a dented bumper or an unexpected visit from the motherinlaw. Its a bit of a mess Emilys arrived.
Just visiting? Sarah asked, unloading the milk and vegetables onto the kitchen bench. Odd she didnt call, and why the boots in such numbers?
James lowered his voice, shifting his weight from one foot to the other by the fridge. Not exactly a visit. Shes had a fallingout with Tom. Hes thrown her out, can you imagine? Shes got nowhere to go. Mums still living in that tiny studio with Dad and the cat, so Emily begged to stay at first, just for a while.
Sarah placed the buckwheat sack on the table and turned to James. For how long, James? And why am I learning this now, when the leopard boots have already taken over my rug?
Dont lose your temper, love, James replied. She called earlier, but you were in that meeting and didnt pick up. She was crying, suitcase in hand, out on the street. I couldnt just send my own sister to the station. Shell be here a week or two, find a flat or patch things up with Tom, and then shell be off. Shes quiet, she wont cause trouble.
At that moment the bathroom door swung open and Emily waddled in, wrapped in Sarahs fluffy white bathrobethe one she only wore after a long soak. A towel turban crowned her head, and she chomped on a ham sandwich, taking massive bites.
Oh, Sarah! she shouted, mouth full. Your hair balm ran out, I squeezed the last drop. Buy some tomorrow, or my hair after this stress will look horrendous.
Sarah glanced at the crumbs scattering across the floor, at Emilys bold, round face, and thought, My peaceful life is over.
Take the robe off, Sarah said, voice as cold as ice.
Emily shrugged. What, are you going to miss it? My suitcases are a mess, Im too lazy to fetch it. She flopped onto the sofa, snatching the remote. James, could you make a tea? With lemonmy throats gone dry from nerves.
The evening unfolded in a tense silence from Sarah, punctuated by Emilys endless monologue about how Tom was a scoundrel, how hed never appreciated her best years, and how she was now starting a new life. That new life began with her devouring all the mince pies Sarah had prepared for two days, and then commandeering the bathroom for an hourandahalf, turning it into a makeshift sauna.
When they finally went to bed, Sarah snapped at James. This cannot continue. Why is she in my robe? Why is she bossing me around? One week is the limit, understand?
Patience, love, James pleaded. Shes grieving, its a personal drama. Shell settle down and things will smooth out. Show a little mercyshes my sister.
The next morning Sarah left early for work. As chief accountant, the numbers were a whirl of figures in the endofmonth crunch. All she could think of was getting home, a hot shower, and a quiet evening with a book.
She turned the key, only to be hit by a wall of pop music that rattled the windows. The hallway smelled of nail polish and something burnt. In the kitchen a pan hissed with blackened crumbs that had once been potatoes. Emily was nowhere to be seen. She found her in the sittingroom, sitting on the floor with a whole arsenal of Sarahs makeup spread across the coffee table. She was painting her toenails a bright scarlet, placing her foot directly on the sofa upholstery.
Emily! Sarah shouted, cutting the music. What on earth is happening?
Emily flinched, a brush of polish splattering the beige velvet. Oops, scared you! Youre creeping about? Look, theres a stain now thanks to you.
Sarah stared at the red line across her favourite sofa, her eyes darkening. Did you take my makeup?
I needed to look decentgoing out on a date tonight. You know what they say, fight fire with fire, Emily replied, flicking a stray paintstroke onto the sofa. Did the potatoes not burn? Ive totally forgotten.
You almost set the kitchen alight! And get your feet off the sofa! Do you have your own polish and creams?
Theyre in my suitcase, Emily said, waving a hand. Its a hassle to dig them out. By the way, do you have any decent tights? Mine are all ripped. I saw a pack called Omssaforty days worthin the dresser. Can I borrow some?
No, Sarah snapped. I wont lend you anything. Put my makeup back where it belongs and clean the pan.
Really petty, Emily huffed. Ill tell James youre a miser.
When James returned from work, Emily met him with a mournful look. James, I think Ill spend the night at the station. Your wife is yelling about nail polish, shes a nightmare. I feel like an unwanted relative.
James, exhausted, looked pleadingly at Sarah. What now, love?
Its a mess, James. She ruined the sofa, almost started a fire, and pilfered my things without asking, Sarah said.
Emily wailed, It was an accident! And shes yelling like a servant!
James raised his hands. Alright, girls, lets not fight. Emily, Ill buy you new tights. Sarah, well get the carpet cleaned. Lets try to live peacefully.
Peace never materialised. Days slipped by and the flat descended into chaos. Emily left dishes piled in the sink, even under the sofa, and hung her undergarments on the towel rail despite there being a dryer. Sarah tried to set boundaries.
Emily, we usually wash dishes right after a meal, she said.
Later, Ill mop them up, Emily replied.
Dont blast the TV after eleven; we have to get up early, Sarah warned.
I cant wear headphones; they hurt my ears. Im sleepless from depression, Emily muttered.
The worst was James. Under Emilys influence, his once gentle nature began to shift. She whispered in his ear, Youre a henpecked husband, love. Shes twisting you as she likes, taking your salary, keeping you from friends. My Tom was a fool, but he could stand his ground. You
James snapped back, Why didnt you cook dinner? Emilys been home all day, shes starving, and the fridge only has yesterdays soup.
Emily is an adult; she could have made something herself, Sarah retorted.
Shes a guest! Shes stressed! James protested.
Guests dont live for months and dictate the house, Sarah replied.
Three weeks passed and Sarah felt as drained as a squeezed lemon. She avoided the flat, lingered at work, walked in the park just to postpone the inevitable encounter with her beloved sisterinlaw.
The climax arrived on a Friday. Sarah had been granted a day off for overtime and decided to do a deep clean while Emily was supposedly away for a job interview (though Sarah suspected the interview was at the nearby shopping centre). She arrived home at one oclock, found the front door ajaroddly so. She slipped into the hallway and saw enormous, muddy mens boots, size fortyfive, by the coat rack.
From the bedroom came muffled laughter and music. Sarah, barefoot, crept to the bedroom door and flung it open.
On the bed, atop the duvet, lay Emily in a lace nightdressactually Sarahs nightdress, a gift from James on their anniversaryand a stranger with a tattoo on his shoulder. Around them were beer bottles, a pizza box perched on the nightstand beside a framed wedding photo.
The man leapt up, pulling the blanket over himself. Whoa! The ladys home.
Emily, unfazed, stretched. Sarah? Whats the hour? Were just watching a film. Meet Stan.
Sarah felt something snap inside her, like a light bulb burning out. Rage that had simmered for weeks turned into a cold, steady calm.
Out, she said softly.
What? the tattooed man asked.
Out of here. Both of you. Two minutes to get dressed and leave, or Ill call the police.
Sarah, why are you losing it? Emily protested. Were just relaxing. Stan helped me with my CV
I said out! Sarahs voice rose, shaking even the tattooed man. You brought a stranger into my bedroom? You wore my underwear? Youre eating pizza on my bed?
Stan scoffed, What a drama queen! as he pulled on his jeans. Lets go, its stifling.
He left, and Emily slunk back to the lounge as if nothing had happened.
Enough, Sarah said, grabbing heavy rubbish bags and heading back to the bedroom where Emily was still lounging on the sofa.
Get up.
Why?
Im gathering your things. Youre leaving now.
You have no right! This is my brothers flat too! He invited her! I wont go while James isnt here!
Sarah didnt argue. She opened the hallway wardrobe where Emily had stashed her belongings, shoving clothes, the leopardprint dress, grimy socks, everything into the bags. Emily lunged, screaming, Its cashmere! Youll ruin it!
Sarahs adrenaline gave her strength. Within five minutes the three black bags were full of Emilys clutter: a suitcase, makeup, shoes, chargers. Emily grabbed her phone, Ill call James!
Sarah hauled the bags and the suitcase onto the landing. Youre out too, she pointed to the door.
No way! Emily shouted.
Fine, Ill call the police. Wheres your address? Mums in Birley? Thats where youll go.
Emily saw the determination in Sarahs eyes and fled the flat, snatching her bag.
Youll regret this! Youll crawl back begging for forgiveness! James will leave you! she yelled as Sarah slammed the door, turned the lock twice, and bolted the chain.
The hallway erupted with Emilys shouts, her kicking the door, wailing that shed been robbed and left out in the coldthough it was a warm September evening.
Sarah dialled James. James, your sister is in the stairwell with her bags.
What? Sarah, what have you done?
She brought a man into our bedroom. They were in our bed. Shes in my nightdress.
Silence hung on the line as James processed the news.
Bedroom? Ours? he finally asked.
Yes. If you try to defend her, you can go straight to Mums with her. Im changing the locks today.
Im coming now, he said.
An hour later the flat was dead quiet. Emily, exhausted from shouting, had hauled her bags down to the lift and was waiting for a taxi to her mothers. James arrived, pale, first loading Emilys suitcase into a cab and sending her off before he entered his own home.
Sarah sat at the kitchen table, tea steaming, hands still trembling. She had already shredded the soiled bedding and tossed it into the washing machine on a boil cycle. The nightdress was discarded in the rubbish chuteshe could not bear to keep it after Emilys misuse.
Did she leave? Sarah asked James, not looking up.
To her mums. Shes already on the phone, shouting that were beasts.
Us? Sarah raised an eyebrow.
…well, you. I told her not to meddle, James replied, taking her hand.
Im sorry, love. I was foolish. I thought shed just stay a week and calm down. I never imagined shed bring a stranger into our bed. It made me want to vomit just thinking about it.
What about the three weeks she tormented meruining the sofa, stealing my things, being rude? Sarah asked. You didnt see that?
I saw, James sighed. But I didnt want to hurt Mum. She always says, Family is sacred, you must help. I just hoped it would blow over.
Family doesnt clean itself up, James. Parasites dont fall out on their own. You have to pull them out.
Jamess phone buzzedMum. He glanced at it, then at Sarah, and hung up.
Shall we just sit in silence? No TV, no chat about Tom, he suggested.
Alright, Sarah agreed.
The peace was shortlived. The next day, Sarahs motherinlaw, Natalie Petrov, arrived unannounced, determined to lecture the daughterinlaw. It was a Saturday; the doorbell rang persistently. Through the peephole, Sarah saw Natalie, fists clenched around her handbag.
Open up! I know youre home! Natalie shouted.
Sarah opened the door. Mrs. Petrov, good afternoon. If youre here about Emily, theres nothing to discuss.
Natalie stormed in, like a corkscrew through the hallway. How can you throw a girl out like a stray dog, with rubbish bags? Shes traumatised! Shes been crying all night!
My trauma is having strangers tumble in my bed, Sarah retorted sharply. Your daughter has crossed every boundary. Shes behaved like a pig.
Shes not a guest, shes my sons sister! Natalie snapped. And youre an intruder too! The flat may be shared, but James poured his soul into it!
I poured my money into it, Natalie. We paid the mortgage together, and the downpayment came from selling my grandmothers flat. I have a stronger claim than your daughter does.
Youre selfish! Natalie wailed. We came to help, and youve turned the boots into a joke! The linens, the underwearwhats next? Youll throw a shoe at us!
Exactly. Human relations, thats what, Sarah said. Emily behaved disgracefully. I endured three weeks. It ends now.
James stepped into the hallway. Mum, please stop, he said firmly.
Natalie froze. She was used to James either quieting down or nodding.
What do you mean stop? Do you hear how shes speaking to Mom? Shell tear us all apart! James, collect Emilys thingsher hairdryer, her straightenerand apologise to your sister.
I wont apologise, James said, placing a hand on Sarahs shoulder. Emily acted horrifically. Sarahs right. She has no place in our home until she learns respect.
You you choose her? Over your own blood? Natalie demanded.
I choose my wife and my family, Mum. Emilys thirtytwo, she can find a room elsewhere, get a job, maybe meet a man, but this isnt a dive bar.
Natalie gasped, clutching her throat like a fish out of water. Ill curse you! I wont see you again!
Very well, James replied calmly. When youre calm, call. For now, please leave. We need peace.
Natalie turned, nearly colliding with the doorframe, and burst out, slamming it behind her.
When the house finally quieted, Sarah leaned into James. Thank you, she whispered. I thought youd stay silent again.
I imagined what would happen if she returned, and I realised I couldnt bear it a second time, he admitted. I also want a quiet life.
A week later the tension eased. Emily, realizing the free ride had ended, swiftly reconciled with Tom. The prospect of living in her mothers cramped studio and listening to her admonitions seemed scarier than returning to her ex. She even texted James: All right, I wont cause trouble. Tell Sarah Im sorry, but shes a witch. Sarah laughed at the message, unconcerned with Emilys label. The important thing was the flat was clean, quiet, and nobody was pilfering her meatballs at night or wearing her undergarments.
The sofa finally wentAnd as the sun set over the quiet lane, Sarah finally felt the house was truly hers again.
