I leave the keys to my flat with my best friend before I go on holiday, and when I return I find she has moved in with her whole family.
MrsSmith, I understand youre upset, but lets keep our voices down, the neighbourhood police constable says, rubbing his nose. So theyre refusing to leave your flat?
Refusing isnt even the right word!Emily shouts, her hands trembling. She says she has every right to be here! I gave her the keys just to water the plants, and she she Her voice cracks.
Take a seat, please, the constable moves a chair over. Tell me exactly what happened. When did you hand the keys over to whom?
To EmilyAndrewsKuznetsova, I say, squeezing a handkerchief. Weve been friends for fifteen years. In fact, we used to be close I smile bitterly. I never imagined shed do something like this.
Just two weeks ago my life runs smoothly. At fiftythree I have everything I ever wanted: a cosy twobed flat in a decent London suburb, a steady job as a chartered accountant at a reputable firm, and an adult son who lives nearby with his own family and drops by now and then. Loneliness never bothers meafter my divorce ten years ago I learn to value independence and peace.
That evening I sit in the kitchen with Emily. We met on a professional development course for accountants years ago and have kept in touch despite working for different companies.
Can you believe it, Emily? Im finally doing it! I pour fragrant tea into mugs. Im heading to Brighton for two weeks. Ive booked the whole package, everythings paid.
Good on you! Emily smiles genuinely. Its been ages since youve taken a break. Three years?
Four, I sigh. Since Mum fell ill I never got the chance to get away. Now it feels like the stars have finally aligned work is calm and my finances are in order.
Exactly! You need to look after yourself sometimes, Emily says, sipping her tea, then pauses. Honestly, Im a bit jealous. My house is a nightmare right now weve started a renovation, everythings turned upside down. Dust, mess, builders from dawn till dusk, and the downstairs neighbours keep complaining about the noise. Its a proper nightmare.
Renovations are always a trial, I agree. But the end result will be beautiful.
If we survive it, Emily jokes, my husband James and the kids will be crawling up the walls because of the chaos. We dream of escaping for a couple of weeks, but where? Hotels are pricey and staying with relatives is cramped.
I set my spoon down and look at her. A thought strikes: why not ask Emily to watch my flat while Im away? She could water the plants and make sure everythings fine.
Listen, Emily, could you stay at my place while Im at the sea? Water the ferns, look after the flat. It would also give you a break from the renovation.
Emilys face lights up.
Really? Youre not kidding? That would be a lifesaver! I could pop in each evening after work. I swear, everything will be perfect!
Stay as long as you need, I say generously. Itll be reassuring to know someones home.
We spend a long time ironing out the details when I leave, how often to water the plants, how frequently to air out the rooms. Emily seems genuinely grateful and promises to treat my home with the utmost care.
Just one thing, Marish, she says shyly as shes about to leave, would you mind if I occasionally spend the night? When Im exhausted from all the trips up and down the site.
Of course, I shrug. The bedroom is ready, the fridge is stocked. Make yourself at home.
Later, right before I head out, I meet Emily again, hand over the keys, and show her how to tend the temperamental orchid on the windowsill.
Dont worry about a thing, she assures, taking the keys gently. Enjoy your break, and Ill look after everything here.
I set off with a light heart, unaware of what awaits me on my return.
Two weeks in Brighton fly by in a single day. I tan, swim in the sea to my hearts content, and even meet a charming man from the next guest house a brief seaside romance after many years. I send Emily a couple of pictures of the beach, and she replies with short but warm messages: You look amazing!, Im green with envy!.
When the taxi pulls up to my block, I feel a pleasant fatigue and a hint of sadness that the holiday is ending. I climb to the fourth floor, unlock the door with my own key, and freeze on the landing, my eyes widening.
The hallway is strewn with strangers shoes mens, womens, childrens. Unknown coats hang on the rack. From deeper inside come the sounds of a television and someone laughing.
What on earth I begin, when a voice from the kitchen calls out.
Oh, Marina! Youre back already? Emily says, feigning surprise. Weve been waiting for you tomorrow.
Whats happening here? I feel the floor drop from under me. Why are there so many things in my flat? Whose shoes are those?
Well you did let me stay while you were away, Emily stammers. So we
We? I step into the living room and stop dead. On my sofa sits James, watching a football match. In an armchair, a fourteenyearold boy their eldest son, Harry scrolls on a tablet. At the kitchen table, an eightyearold girl, Lucy, is busy drawing.
Hello, AuntMarina, the little girl greets politely.
James pauses the TV and nods. Hi, Marina. How was your break?
What are you all doing here? My voice trembles. I only asked Emily to water the plants and check in occasionally, not not move in with the whole family!
Marina, calm down, Emily says softly, though her eyes flash with tension. You saw how chaotic our home was. The kids were struggling, so we thought youd understand one person or four, it doesnt matter. The flat was empty, and it gave us a temporary sanctuary.
A temporary sanctuary? I glance around and notice the décor has changed. My beloved statuettes are gone, replaced by unfamiliar framed photos. A painting I never owned hangs on the wall. The curtains are bright blue, not my soft cream.
You you rearranged my flat? I feel a lump rise in my throat. Where are my things?
We stored them neatly in the cupboard, Emily hurriedly replies. The children needed space for play and study. We just adapted the place a bit.
Adapted? I cant believe my ears. But this is my flat! My flat!
Kid, stop shouting, Harry says, pulling off his headphones. We didnt break anything.
Harry, be quiet, Emily snaps at her son. Marina, lets talk calmly. Youre tired, youve just come from a trip. How about a cup of tea?
I dont want tea! I feel my anger boiling over. I want you all to pack up and leave my flat this very minute!
A tense silence hangs. James switches off the TV and rises.
Marina, you dont understand, he begins, trying to make peace. We have a real housing problem. The renovation is dragging on; the builders say itll be at least another month. The kids cant stay there dust, chemicals, its unsafe.
Thats not my concern, I cut in. I never gave permission for an entire family to live here. I asked Emily only to water the plants and occasionally check that everythings okay.
But you said, Stay as long as you need, make yourself at home, Emily counters.
That was a figure of speech! I snap. No sane person would let a whole family move in, change the furniture, and claim rights!
James raises his hand to calm the rising argument.
The law says that if the owner voluntarily hands over the keys, that can be taken as consent to stay. We have witnesses who can confirm you invited me to stay.
What? Im stunned. Witnesses? Who?
Our neighbour, MrsPeters, heard us on the landing when I took the keys from you, Emily says calmly. You said, Live comfortably, use whatever you need. Thats her testimony, if you need it.
My head spins. Could my best friend really twist my words and threaten me with a fabricated legal claim? I feel the world tilt.
Leave my flat, I say quietly but firmly. Or Ill call the police.
Go ahead, Emily shrugs. Theyll just confirm were here legally, based on your own consent.
Now I sit in the constables office, recounting the unbelievable story. The officer I called that evening simply shakes his head Family disputes arent my department; youll have to sort it out yourself or go to court.
So you gave the keys voluntarily, the constable repeats pensively. And there was no written agreement about who could live there?
Yes! I exclaim. I asked her to water the ferns, not to move in with a husband, two kids, and a teenager! I never agreed to that!
The problem is, without written terms, its a gray area, the constable sighs. They can argue that you allowed temporary residence, and proving otherwise will be hard.
What now? I ask, despairing. This is my flat! My belongings, my documents, my medication are in there, and now I have to stay with my son because some people wont leave!
There are a few routes, the constable pulls out a sheet. First, I can speak to them and try to resolve it. Sometimes a neutral party is enough. Second, you could file for an eviction order in court. Third, you could try again to negotiate a compromise yourself.
A compromise? I snap. You want them to stay in my flat while I live with my son?
No, of course not, he replies calmly. But perhaps you could give them a deadline to find alternative accommodation a week, for example, since there are children involved.
I consider this. Im angry at Emily, but the children are innocent. Little Lucy doesnt deserve to be left out on the street because of an adults mistake.
Fine, I say at last. Ill give them a week to find somewhere else, but no longer than that. And you must return everything to its original place.
The officer nods and prepares to leave.
Its already about seven oclock when we pull up to my flat. Emily opens the door, clearly nervous as the constable steps inside.
Good evening, she says, letting us in. Whats happened?
The owner of this flat, MarinaSmith, has lodged a complaint about unlawful occupation, the constable explains formally. Can you describe the situation?
In the living room the whole Kuznetsov family sits James, Harry, Lucy watching us warily.
What unlawful occupation? James objects. Marina invited us!
No, she didnt, I declare. I asked Emily only to water the plants and occasionally check that everythings alright. Nothing more.
What about the stay as long as you need comment? Emily interjects.
That was a colloquial expression! I protest. No sensible person would permit an entire family to move in, rearrange the décor, and claim rights.
The constable raises his hand, silencing the rising tension.
The situation is clear: the property owner demands you vacate. Even if there was verbal permission for temporary stay, it can be withdrawn at any time, especially when the owners sole residence is at stake, he says. However, recognizing that the family has nowhere to go, the owner is willing to give you a week to secure alternative housing.
Silence falls. Emily exchanges a glance with James, then lowers her head.
Okay, she finally says. A week it is. Well find somewhere.
The condition is that I move back in right now, I add. You may stay for the week, but you must restore all my belongings and stop altering anything.
Emily bites her lip, then nods.
Ill stay the nights to make sure you keep your word, the constable offers, though he seems uneasy about trusting the arrangement.
James steps forward. We understand, Marina. Were sorry. Emily misinterpreted, and I let it happen. Well put everything back and look for a new place.
I look into Jamess eyes and see genuine remorse. Perhaps he truly didnt realise how wrong theyd been.
Alright, I say. I believe you, James. I hope youll keep your promise.
The constable writes down everyones details, drafts a brief protocol of the agreement, and gives me his number in case any issues arise.
When he leaves, an awkward quiet settles over the flat. Emily fidgets with her cardigan sleeve, avoiding my gaze.
Why, Emily? I ask softly. Why would you do this to me? Weve been friends for fifteen years.
Tears well in Emilys eyes. I didnt mean any harm. Our house is a disaster dust, endless construction, the kids falling ill. When we saw your clean, empty flat, I thought, Whats the difference, one person or four? It was easy to rationalise, but once we were here it became hard to admit wed overstepped.
So you decided to tell me I have the right to live here? I shake my head. You crossed every boundary, Emily. You cant treat friends like that.
I know, she whispers. Im sorry. I was stressed, and when you returned earlier than expected I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.
Lets just pack up and leave, Harry says, removing his headphones. Im ashamed to be here.
I stare at the teenager, surprised by his conscience.
No, you dont have to go right now, I reply gently. I give you a week, but Im moving back in. You can stay in one room while I take the other, and well work together to put everything back.
James nods. Well use one bedroom, youll have the other. Well help restore your things.
To my astonishment, the Kuznetsov family spends the evening sorting the flat. From the cupboard they pull out my statuettes, photographs, books. Lucy helps arrange little ornaments on the shelves, Harry moves furniture back, and James hangs the original curtains. Even Emily, overcoming her embarrassment, pitches in.
By nightfall the flat looks almost as it did before. Some items are still misplaced, and a few are missing, but the main sense of home returns.
The family settles in the living room parents on the sofa, Lucy on the foldout couch, Harry on the floor with a board game. I retreat to my bedroom, finally sleeping in my own bed after two weeks in a hotel.
In the morning the smell of fresh coffee greets me. Emily is at the stove.
Good morning, she says tentatively. I made pancakes, the way you like them.
I pause, then nod. Weve been friends for years, and despite everything, she seems truly remorseful.
Over breakfast the atmosphere loosens. Lucy chatters about school, Harry cracks a joke, and James talks about the news, like old times.
By the way, James says, my cousin has a spare flat in the next borough. Hes not renting it out, just letting friends stay while his place is being refurbished. He said we could move in there temporarily, no charge.
Really? Emily asks, surprised. Why didnt you mention it earlier?
James shrugs. I didnt want to ask for a favour. Weve not been on good terms with my brotherinlaw, but were out of options.
Relief washes over me. The Kuznetsovs will find somewhere to live, and the conflict will end sooner than I feared.
Thats wonderful, I say sincerely. Im glad things are working out for you.
Later that day, as I return from work, Emily greets me at the hallway.
Were moving out, she says without preamble. My brotherinlaw gave the goahead, we can shift in today. Ive packed everything.
I dont know whether to feel joy at the return of quiet or sorrow at the strain on a fifteenyear friendship.
Im sorry everything turned out like this, Emily, I say quietly.
Im sorry too, Emily 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, recognizing that despite the hurt and betrayal, fifteen years cant simply be erased. People make grave mistakes, sometimes. But does it make sense to hold onto the anger forever?
I dont know, I answer honestly. I need time. Youve shattered my trust. Maybe one day we can start anew.
An hour later the Kuznetsovs leave. Lucy gives me a tight hug, whispering, Sorry, AuntMarina. Youre the kindest. Harry shakes my hand, and James helps load the last boxes into a taxi.
Emily lingers at the door.
I left you a little gift on the kitchen table, she says. Its an apology and a thankyou for not throwing us out straight away.
When sheMarina opened the box, found a delicate porcelain figurine, and felt a cautious spark of hope that their friendship might one day be mended.
