It had always been the dream of my husband and me to live by the sea. We spent ten long years travelling down to the coast, never quite fitting in anywhere and scrimping every pound to save up for a home in one of the seaside towns. We werent chasing some lavish penthouse, just a simple two or three-bedroom flat, and to be honest, we werent too fussed about the décor or any fancy features.
And finallyour dream came true. Of course, we still had a few loans left to pay, but the goal was met. The English seaside, our very own flat just steps from the shoreexactly what we’d imagined.
We exhaled with relief, sinking into contentment for the first two months. Then, my mother came around for a visit. As we showed her our cosy home, she asked for a spare set of keys, claiming itd be friendly so she could pop in whenever, no arrangement needed. My husband and I had no clue that this set would multiply beyond belief.
One morning, as we lay in bed, we heard the lock fiddling and knocking on the door. My husband, assuming it was dear Mum, reluctantly got dressed and went to greet our early visitor. To his surprise, there stood a family with two kids in the hallway. When I joined the awkward welcoming ceremony, I saw it was my cousins family.
We figured the best thing was to act delighted by their unexpected arrival. My cousin, perfectly unbothered, explained shed made herself a copy of our keys from my mothers set, and Mum had told her wed be thrilled by the surprise.
These holidaymakers stayed for a week. To be fair, theyd brought food up from their village, so meals werent the main issue. But having another family in our flat, especially with a holiday mindset, sapped every bit of optimism from my husband and me.
Once the cousins left, I phoned Mum and asked her not to arrange any more impromptu family reunions at our place. Mum pretended not to see the problem, insisted nothing tragic had happened, and said my cousin was thrilled by the hospitalityand clearly expected more free beach holidays in the summer.
That was only the beginning. Inspired by Mum, an avalanche of other relatives descended: uncles, aunts, nephews, a parade of close kin. It wasnt uncommon for more than one group to show up, all arriving cheerfully, repeating the classic,
Well, where else would we meet but in Samanthas house!
Samanthamewas barely acknowledged, and my husband even less. After all, the owners just float about, whats a few villagers intruding?
After two seasons of these visits, I asked Mum to return the keys. She was deeply offended, accused me of acting high and mighty, and said I was distancing myself from family. When I explained the situation to my husband, he wrapped me in his arms and said,
You do realise there are so many keys now, Mums set doesnt fix a thing. If youre alright with it, tomorrow well have a brand new door and locks.
I wasnt upset. A week later, we nervously listened as, for over an hour, some other space invaders tried the old keys in our sturdy new door. Then came calls to our mobiles, which we steadfastly ignored.
That evening erupted into a furious phone call from Mum. She shouted in outrage that my third cousin had to spend the night at the station, waiting for his train. When I asked Mum what he was even called, she hung up to a chorus of beeps
There were two more attempts to take possession of our flat after that, each foiled by our new door. My husband and I now felt confidentthis was our home, not a thoroughfare.
Mum doesnt visit anymore, standing in solidarity with the extended family. Im working to keep relations amicable, but now I refuse to let anyone but Mum in the flat. This is our territory, won only by our hard work.
For some reason, none of the relatives ever considered following our example and buying a place by the sea. But they were all only too willing to turn up with bags packed, happy to enjoy what we had worked so hard to achieve!
