My husbands brother once asked to stay in my flat while they carried out a renovation I turned him down.
Could you pass the herring under a coat of potatoes, please? Stephen said, grinning wide and loosening the belt on his trousers. My mothers cooking is a treat, unlike my wife Evelyns. She could only manage storebought dumplings.
Evelyn, seated opposite him, shot Stephen a scorching glance but kept silent, only clinking her fork loudly against the plate. In my motherinlaw Margarets living room the usual Sundayday din reigned: clatter of cutlery, the hum of the telly, the rich smell of roast beef, and the occasional burst of laughter.
I nudged the salad bowl toward David, careful not to elbow him. He sat quiet, his mouth full, chewing a slice of bread with a look that always meant trouble the sort of look he wore when he forgot to pay the broadband bill or scraped the bumper of his car.
By the way, David, Olivia, Stephen said, shovelling a massive helping of salad onto his plate before even swallowing a bite, weve had a word with Mum and Evelyn and decided its time for a proper overhaul. The flat were in is a nightmare leaking pipes, sparking wiring, and the wallpaper is still from the previous owners. The builders will start next Monday.
Good on you, I replied politely, sipping my homemade fruit punch. A renovation is a fine thing, even if it costs a pretty penny. Congratulations.
Exactly! Stephen waved his fork. Well be gutting walls, pouring new floors. Its not fit for the kids with all the dust and cement. So well be crashing at your place for a spell.
I choked on my punch. David patted my back anxiously, and the room fell into a hush broken only by Stephens noisy chewing.
Excuse me, did I hear that right? I wiped my lips with a napkin and stared straight at Stephen. You want to stay in *our* flat? In the twobedroom house where David and I already bump into each other at night?
No, not yours, Stephen waved a hand as if swatting a fly. Why would we cramp ourselves? You have that grannyflat on Maple Road, Birmingham. Its empty, isnt it? That little oneroom place. Well move in there for a few months while the main place is cleared out.
I set my napkin down slowly. The Maple Road flat had been my own inheritance, passed down from my grandmother in a state of decay. For three years Id poured every spare penny into it, doing the work myself on weekends, pulling down old newspapers from the walls, repainting, sanding the parquet. A week ago I finally finished the furnishings, bought a new sofa, hung curtains, and was about to let it go to rent so I could pay off the car loan.
Stephen, my voice turned as cold as ice, the Maple Road flat isnt empty. Its ready to be let. Ive already placed an advertisement and viewings are booked for Tuesday.
Oh, youll cancel those viewings then! Margaret interjected, adding another scoop to her soup. Family ask, not strangers. What, are you short of money? You cant earn everything yourself, but a brother is a brother. Where will they go with two kids, the station?
Why the station? I asked, puzzled. Theres shortterm let, daily, monthly. The property market is huge.
Have you seen the prices? Evelyn shrieked, finally speaking up. For a tiny cottage on the outskirts theyre asking thirty thousand pounds! And we still need to buy building materials, pay the crew. Our budget is stretched to the last penny. We cant waste money on rent when the family flat sits idle!
I glanced at David, who seemed to shrink, trying to become invisible.
David? I called. Did you know about this plan?
Davids face flushed to a deep red. Olivia, they asked I said wed discuss it. I didnt promise anything! Its just the situation is tricky. The kids need a good school, the areas convenient. Maybe well let them stay? Theyre not strangers, after all.
Inside me something boiled over. They had already plotted behind my back, earmarked my property, solved their financial woes at my expense, and now served me a plate of herring under a coat of potatoes as if it were a gift.
So, I said, straightening my back, theres nothing to discuss here. The flat is for rent. I need the income to clear the car loan thats £2,500 a month. If you, Stephen, are willing to take it at market rate, Ill give you a family discount, but I wont break the lease.
Stephen stopped chewing, his eyes wide with genuine outrage.
Youre going to charge us money for a brothers flat? No conscience at all! Were doing a massive renovation! We need help, not your extortion!
My bank doesnt care about your renovation, I retorted. I need to pay my loan.
Olivia! Margaret bellowed, slamming a wooden spoon onto the pot. How could you be so mercenary? I took you as my own daughter, and you repay us with greed! Evelyn and Stephen have two kids, your nephews! They need comfort, and youre clutching your little house like a miser!
The little house is newly refurbished, with designer fittings, brandnew appliances, a white sofa, I said. I know how your grandchildren behave. Last Christmas at your place ended with a smashed TV and freshly painted hallway. Who footed the bill? No one. Theyre just kids. I wont let them move into the flat I poured my heart and a small fortune into.
A small fortune? Stephen leapt up. David, do you hear? Your wife puts blankets and sofas above blood ties! Are you a man or what? Tell her!
David looked apologetic.
Olivia, maybe maybe theyll be careful. Evelyn will keep an eye on them. Its just awkward to say no, Mum would be upset.
I rose from the table, grabbed my handbag.
Its uncomfortable for me to sleep on the ceiling, David. Managing my own property is quite comfortable. This conversation is over. The flat isnt a charity. Thank you for the meal, Margaret. It was tasty, but my appetite has vanished.
I left the house to the indignant cries of my motherinlaw and the muttering of Evelyn. David chased after me a minute later, just as I was pressing the lift button.
Olivia, wait! You cant be so abrupt! Theyre hurt!
Let them be hurt. David, get in the car. Or stay here and argue that Im a monster.
The drive home was silent. Davids jaw clenched, my hands trembled. That night, when the anger had settled a little, he tried again.
Olivia, I get that youre worried about the renovation. But perhaps we could draw up a contract. If anything breaks, theyll replace it.
I laughed, a bitter laugh.
David, do you hear yourself? A contract? You cant even get five thousand pounds back from your brother for a birthday loan he took two years ago. He says he forgot. And now you expect a renovation and appliances to be covered? Theyll wreck the place in a week, then say, Were family, sorry, no money left, we spent it on cement. Im left with a ruined flat and no cash. No, its over.
The following week was a cold war. Margaret called daily, alternating between tears and threats of a heart attack, shaming me. Evelyn sent nasty messages about spoiled city folk, though shed lived in London for a decade. Stephen simply ignored us, apparently hoping his brother would bend my stubborn wife.
On Tuesday I showed the Maple Road flat to a pleasant young couple, two IT freelancers. They fell in love with the bright interior, fast broadband, and the lack of old floral rugs. They signed the tenancy immediately, paid the deposit and first months rent. I breathed a sigh of relief. At last I could say, The flat is let; people live here.
Wednesday evening, returning from work, I found an odd scene at home. Two large checked bags sat in the hallway, and in the kitchen David and Stephen were perched at the table, a halfempty bottle of whisky between them.
Oh, here comes the lady of the copper mountain! Stephen slurred, already a little merry. Were celebrating a fresh start.
I stared at David, guilty yet determined the alcohol had given him false bravery.
We talked, Olivia, he began, his tongue tangled. Stephen explained the situation. The builders start tomorrow, they really have nowhere to go. I gave him the spare keys.
What keys? I asked, voice low.
The ones to your flat, the spares I kept in the bedside drawer. Dont be angry; theyll just bring in their belongings, stay at Mums for a couple of days while they sort out the place. I told them youd sort the tenancy, cancel the deal, and Id cover any penalty later.
I turned to Stephen, who was smirking, sprawled in his chair. Hed won. Hed twisted his brother, ignored my wishes, and now was drinking in my kitchen, celebrating his triumph.
Give me the keys, I said, reaching for the bottle.
I wont, Stephen laughed. Theyre already with Evelyn. Shes off to the flat to wash the floors, hang the curtains. Your place is a mess, she says. The kids will love it.
My flat? I felt blood rush to my face. Evelyn is in my flat?
Yes, Stephen replied. Weve already taken a few boxes. David helped.
I stared at David.
You moved their stuff into my flat, knowing Id already let it? Knowing the new tenants are due tomorrow?
Olivia, the tenants will wait! David tried to grab my hand, but I pulled away. Theyll find somewhere else. Its my brothers family, after all!
I fished out my phone, hands shaking, and dialed the police.
Hello, police? Id like to report an illegal intrusion. I have the title deeds, and the keys were stolen. My address is 12 Maple Road, Birmingham
Stephen choked on his whisky, David sprang up, overturning his chair.
What are you doing? Which police? Thats Evelyn! he shouted.
It doesnt matter who she is, I said into the receiver, eyes never leaving Stephen. Ill be there with a solicitor. Evict the intruders.
I hung up and turned to the intruders.
You have half an hour to call Evelyn and tell her to clear out. If shes still there when I arrive with the police, Ill press charges for theft of keys and burglary. And you, Stephen
I paused, looking at the man Id shared five years with, now a stranger, pitiful and repellent.
Pack your things. Go back to Mum, to the station, wherever you like. You no longer live in my flat.
Olivia, have you lost your mind? Stephen lunged, fists clenched. Youre tearing a family apart over bricks! Ill smash your face!
Try it, I stepped toward him. The fury in me made even a sturdy Stephen recoil. Ill sue you. Ill kill you in the courts. I have excellent solicitors at work. Ill turn your life into a nightmare. Call your wife now!
He muttered curses, snatched his phone.
Evelyn? Listen, the police are on their way. Get out. I swear
I turned, slipped on my coat, and headed for the door. David grabbed my sleeve.
Olivia, Im sorry! I was drunk! Cancel the police, please! Dont disgrace us!
You disgraced yourself, David. You stole my keys and handed them to people who dont respect me. You betrayed me.
The front door slammed behind me. At the block, a police cruiser was already waiting. Evelyn stood on the steps, two children hopping around, shouting at the flower beds. She was yelling into her phone so loudly the officer could hear: Your wife is a monster! Ill curse her! Were outside!
I approached the officers, showed my passport and the title deed I always kept on my phone.
Thank you for coming. It looks the occupants have left, but Id like to inspect the property in your presence.
Inside, the damage was evident. The new white curtains had been ripped down and tossed in a corner. A dark stain marked the sofa where someone had stood in shoes. Sticky soda traces dotted the kitchen table, crumbs everywhere.
Are these your relatives? the young sergeant asked, eyeing the mess.
No more, I replied firmly. Theyre strangers.
That evening I changed the locks, called an emergency locksmith, paid triple the usual rate, and finally slept, knowing no set of keys would ever open my door again.
The next morning the new tenants called. I explained the brief incident with the relatives, offered a discount on the first month for the inconvenience and the sofa stain (which, thankfully, I managed to clean). They were understanding and moved in.
David tried to return. He slept in his car under the streetlamp, sent lavish bouquets to my office, and wrote endless apologies. Margaret called, screaming that Id broken a mothers heart and left her grandchildren homeless. Stephen sent a threatening text about the world being round, but after I forwarded it to a solicitor friend, who explained the relevant law on extortion, his messages stopped.
A month later I filed for divorce.
In the courtroom David looked gaunt, his face etched with stress.
Olivia, cant we just get everything back? Over a flat isnt that foolish? he whispered as we waited for the clerk.
It isnt about the flat, David, I replied, looking past him. A flat is just walls. What hurts is that you could not protect my boundaries, that you chose to be good to your brother at my expense, that you stole the keys. That isnt foolish; its a diagnosis of our marriage.
He tried to plead for sympathy, mentioning the cramped oneroom flat his brother now lived in, the skyhigh rent, the unfinished repairs. I told him that was their problem, not mine. I wanted a life with people who respected me.
The judge split the assets quickly. The Maple Road flat stayed with me, as did my car. David left with his mother and his brothers troubles, which now were also his. Stephen and Evelyn had to stay with Margaret for a while, turning her home into the very chaos they had promised not to create.
Six months later I sat in a café with a friend, sipping cappuccino and laughing.
Can you believe I ran into an old acquaintance? she said. Your ex is still paying off the loan he took for the brothers renovation, which never got finished. He spent the money, lives in a mess, fights every day. Evelyn moved back with her mum, took the kids. David lives with his mum, still hearing how terrible I was, yet how nice it was living with me.
I smiled, stirring the foam.
You know, I dont even feel sorry for them. I sometimes drive past that house on Maple Road, see the lights on, the tenants happy, a little plant on the windowsill. I think, what luck that I didnt stay silent then. What luck I chose myself.
I checked my phone; the rent had come in on time, as always.
For us, clever and bright! my friend raised her cup.
And for solid locks, I laughed, clinking our cups together.
