I leave my best friends keys to my flat while I go on holiday, and when I get back I discover she has moved in with her whole family.
Mrs. Whitaker, I understand youre angry, but lets keep calm, the local constable says, rubbing his nose. So theyre refusing to leave your flat?
Refusing? Absolutely not! I snap, my hands flailing. Susan says she has every right to be here! Can you believe it? I gave her the keys just to water the plants, and she she My voice trembles with betrayal.
Take a seat, please, the constable moves a chair over. Tell me everything in order. When exactly did you hand the flats keys to who?
To Susan. Susan Anne Kuznetsova. Weve been friends for fifteen years. Well, we were, I say with a bitter smile, clutching a handkerchief. I never imagined she could do something like this. Never!
Two weeks ago my life runs like clockwork. At fiftythree I have everything I ever wanted: a cosy twobedroom flat in a nice suburb, a steady job as an accountant for a respected firm, an adult son who lives with his own family and visits now and then. Im not lonelyten years after my divorce Ive learned to value independence and peace.
That evening Im in the kitchen with Susan. We met at an accounting CPD course and have kept in touch ever since, even though we work for different companies.
Can you believe it, Susan? Im finally doing it! I pour fragrant tea into mugs. Im heading to Brighton for two weeks. Ive booked the travel, everythings paid.
Goodness, finally! Susan smiles genuinely. Its been ages since youve taken a break. Three years?
Four, I sigh. Ever since Mum fell ill I havent been able to get away. Now the stars seem alignedwork is quiet, the bills are sorted.
Exactly! You need to look after yourself sometimes, Susan says, sipping her tea, then pauses thoughtfully. Honestly, Im jealous. Our house is a messrenovations, dust everywhere, workers from dawn till dusk. The neighbours downstairs keep complaining about the noise. Its a nightmare.
Renovations are always a test, I agree. But itll look lovely afterwards.
If we survive it, Susan jokes, Sam and the kids are already climbing the walls because of the chaos. We dream of escaping for a couple of weeks, but where? Hotels are pricey and staying with relatives feels cramped.
I set my spoon down and look at Susan. An idea pops up: why not ask her to look after my flat while Im away? At least someone will water the plants and make sure everythings okay.
Susan, could you help me out? Stay at my place while Im at the sea, water the flowers, keep an eye on things. You could even get a break from your renovation.
Susans face lights up.
Really? Youre not kidding? That would be a lifesaver! Ill drop by evenings after work. I promise everything will be perfect!
Stay as long as you need, I wave her off generously. Itll be easier for me knowing someones home.
We spend a long time hashing out detailswhen I leave, how to tend the orchids on the windowsill, how often to air the flat. Susan seems genuinely grateful and swears shell treat my home with the utmost care.
Just one thing, Marish, she says shyly as shes about to go, would you mind if I occasionally spend the night when Im exhausted from the endless trips?
Of course, I shrug. The bedroom is ready, theres food in the fridge. Make yourself at home.
Later, as I hand over the keys, I show Susan how to prune the finicky orchid.
Dont worry about a thing, she assures, taking the keys gently. Enjoy your break, Ill look after everything here.
I head off with a light heart, unaware of what awaits me on my return.
Two weeks in Brighton fly by like a single day. I tan, soak up the sea, even meet a charming bloke from the B&B next doora brief, lighthearted romance. I send Susan a couple of sunny photos and receive short, warm replies: You look stunning! and Im green with envy!
When the taxi pulls up to my block, I feel a pleasant tiredness and a hint of sadness that the holiday is over. I climb to the fourth floor, unlock the door, and freeze on the threshold, eyes widening.
The hallway is strewn with strangers shoesmens, womens, childrens. Unknown coats hang on the rack. From deep within the flat I hear a TV and laughter.
What on earth I start, when Susan pops out of the kitchen.
Oh, Marri! Youre back already? she exclaims, feigning surprise. Weve been expecting you tomorrow.
Whats happening here? Why are there so many things in my flat? Whose shoes are these?
Well you did let me stay while you were away, Susan stammers. So we
We? I step into the living room and stop dead. On my sofa sits Susans husband, Andrew, watching football. In an armchair a teenage boy, about fourteen, Jack, scrolls on a tablet. At the kitchen table eightyearold Emily is busy drawing.
Hello, Aunt Marri, the little girl says politely.
Andrew looks up from the screen and nods. Hey, Marri. How was your break?
What are you all doing here? my voice shakes. I said you could crash here occasionally, not move in with the whole family!
Marri, calm down, Susan says softly, though her eyes betray tension. You saw how chaotic our house was. The kids cant stand it. We thought youd be fine with a few people. The flat was empty, so it seemed a good temporary refuge.
Temporary? I glance around, noticing my beloved figurines gone, replaced by strangers photos in frames. A painting I never owned hangs on the wall. The curtains are now bright blue instead of my soft cream.
Youve rearranged my flat? I ask, a lump forming in my throat. Where are my things?
We put them neatly in the storage cupboard, Susan rushes to explain. The kids needed space to play. We just adapted the flat a bit, nothing serious.
Adapted? I cant believe what Im hearing. This is my flat! My flat!
Mom, why is she shouting? Jack asks, pulling off his headphones. We didnt break anything.
Jack, be quiet, Susan snaps at her son. Marri, lets have a calm chat. Maybe tea?
I dont want tea! Anger boils inside me. I want you all to pack up and leave this flat right now!
A tense silence falls. Andrew switches off the TV and stands.
Marri, you dont understand, he begins evenly. Our renovation has dragged on. The workers say itll be at least another month. The dust and chemicals are dangerous for the kids.
It doesnt concern me, I cut in. I never gave permission for a whole family to live here. I only asked Susan to water the plants and check that everythings alright.
But you said stay as long as you need, make yourself at home, Susan retorts.
That was a figure of speech! I snap. No sane person invites an entire family to move in, change the décor, and claim rights!
The constable raises his hand, halting the rising argument.
Ladies and gentlemen, the situation is clear: the owner of the property demands you vacate. That is her legal right. Even an oral agreement can be withdrawn at any time, especially when it concerns sole occupation of a singleowner flat, the officer says.
But we have nowhere to go! Susan protests. Our renovation is a disaster.
The owner is offering a compromise, the constable continues. A oneweek grace period to find alternative accommodation. That is generous given the circumstances.
Silence fills the room. Susan exchanges a glance with Andrew, then bows her head.
Fine, she says finally. Well find somewhere else within a week.
Also, I add, Im moving back in immediately. You may stay for a week only if you return all my belongings to their original places and stop any further changes.
Susans lips press together, but she nods.
The officer offers to stay overnight to ensure the agreement is honoured, but Andrew declines. We understand, Marri. Well sort it out and leave. Sorry for the trouble.
I look at Andrews eyes and see genuine remorse. Perhaps he didnt realise how wrong theyd been.
Alright, I say. Ill give you the week. I expect my flat back as it was.
The officer writes down everyones details, makes a brief record of the settlement, and gives me his contact number for any followup.
When he leaves, an awkward quiet settles over the flat. Susan fidgets with the sleeve of her coat, avoiding my gaze.
Why, Susan? After fifteen years of friendship, why did you do this? I ask quietly.
Tears well in Susans eyes. I didnt mean any harm. Our house was a nightmaredust, noise, the kids falling ill. Your flat was clean and empty. I thought one extra person wouldnt matter, then another, and before I knew it wed taken over. I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.
You decided to claim I have a right to stay? I shake my head. You crossed a line, Susan. Friends dont do that.
I know, she whispers. Im sorry. I was under a lot of stress from the renovation. When you returned earlier than expected I panicked and said the wrong thing.
Jack, dropping his headphones, speaks up. Im embarrassed to be here.
Im surprised by his honesty; his conscience seems louder than his mothers.
No, Jack, you dont have to leave right now, I say gently. Im giving you a week, but Im moving back in. Thats my home.
Andrew nods. Well take one room, youll have the other. Well help put everything back.
To my astonishment, the Kuznetsov family spends the evening restoring the flat. They pull my figurines from the cupboard, rehang my photos, replace the curtains with the original cream ones, and even help tidy the kitchen. Emily arranges tiny trinkets on the shelves, Jack moves furniture back, and Andrew hangs the familiar curtains. Susan, still a bit embarrassed, works alongside them.
By nightfall the flat looks almost as it did before. Some items are still slightly out of place, but the atmosphere feels reclaimed. The Kuznetsovs settle in the living roomparents on the sofa, Emily on the foldout couch, Jack on the floorwhile I retreat to my bedroom, finally trading the hotel bed for my own.
The next morning I wake to the smell of fresh coffee. In the kitchen Susan is bustling over the stove.
Good morning, she says tentatively. I thought maybe we could have breakfast together? Ive made pancakes just the way you like them.
I pause, then nod. We have been friends for many years, after all, and her remorse feels sincere.
Over breakfast the tension eases. Emily chatters about school, Jack cracks a joke, and Andrew discusses the news, just like old times.
Actually, Andrew says, my cousin has a spare flat in the neighboring borough. Hes letting it out while his own place is being renovated. No rent, just a favour.
Really? Susan looks surprised. Why didnt you ask him before?
Its awkward, you know. Weve not been on the best terms, Andrew admits. But now weve got nowhere else, so well take it.
I feel a wave of relief. The Kuznetsovs will have somewhere to go, and the conflict can end sooner than I feared.
That’s wonderful, I reply earnestly. Im glad things are falling into place.
That evening, as I return from work, Susan meets me at the hallway.
Were moving out, she says without preamble. Cousins flat is ready, we can leave today. Ive already packed.
Im torn between happiness that peace is returning and sadness that a fifteenyear friendship has been strained.
Im really sorry everything turned out like this, Susan, I say quietly.
Im sorry too, she lowers her eyes. I was wrong. I understand if you never want to speak to me again, but I want you to know I value our friendship. If you can ever forgive me
I look at her and realise that, despite the hurt, fifteen years cant simply be erased. Mistakes happen, even serious ones. Holding onto anger forever isnt helpful.
I dont know yet, I answer honestly. I need time. Youve broken my trust, but maybe, one day, we can start anew.
An hour later the Kuznetsovs leave my flat. At the door, Emily gives me a tight hug and whispers, Sorry, Aunt Marri. Youre the kindest. Jack shakes my hand awkwardly, and Andrew helps the last bags into a taxi.
Susan lingers at the threshold.
I left you a gift on the kitchen table, she says. Its an apology and thanks for not throwing us out on the first day.
When the door closes behind them, I finally have the flat to myself. The silence feels oddly resonant after days filled with voices.
On the kitchen counter sits a small box tied with ribbon. Inside is a delicate porcelain figurine of two women holding hands. A note is tucked beside it: True friendship survives trials. I hope ours does. With love, Susan.
I stare at the gift, recalling all the good years we shared. Can I forgive her? I dont have an answer yet, but deep down I know that genuine friends, even after serious mistakes, remain in the heart forever.
