Unwanted Guests: A Family Drama
Emily sighed tiredly, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Margaret, these guests have become such a nuisance,” complained her mother-in-law, seated at the kitchen table in their home in the village of Oakfield. “How can we discourage them? They seem to adore it here! And their grandchildren—an absolute nightmare! Why are you so quiet, Emily?”
“I’m thinking,” Emily replied, gazing thoughtfully out the window. “Are you sure you want to get rid of them?”
“Yes,” Margaret nodded firmly. “A whole week of putting up with them! My husband has it easy—gets drunk on their homemade wine and sleeps. Meanwhile, they wander around all night—out to the balcony, then back to the kitchen…”
“I’ll handle it,” Emily said decisively. “Don’t react to anything. Let me do the talking.”
Soon, the relatives arrived.
“Susan, what is the meaning of this?!” exclaimed Margaret’s sister, frozen in shock at the doorway.
Emily was baffled when her husband broke the news.
“Love, guests are coming to my parents’ place. We need to host them properly.”
“To your parents’?” she repeated, frowning. “But we’re the ones hosting?”
“Yes,” James nodded. “Mum asked for help. They’re arriving tomorrow.”
“In our rented flat? In one room?” Emily could feel irritation bubbling inside her.
“They’re family! We have to help Mum with the cooking. She really insisted.”
“You should’ve said so instead of beating around the bush,” Emily sighed. “Fine, I’ll help cook. What else?”
“We need to clean before they arrive, wash everything, change the curtains. The usual.”
“Your mum’s place is always spotless,” Emily argued.
“Apparently not clean enough for guests.”
“And we’ll have to scrub everything after they leave? Remember last time? Your uncle George nearly ruined the curtains with his grubby hands! And they turned the balcony into a rubbish heap. Mark my words, I won’t let such guests into our future home!”
“But we’ll have a house soon!” James reminded her.
“That’s not up for debate. The housewarming is in summer, and it’ll be outside only. I’ll oversee everything. No one’s coming in with dirty hands.”
“You’re taking this cleanliness thing too far,” James muttered.
“Like your mother does. She nearly fainted last time after hosting. She’s not a spring chicken anymore. Relax—we’ll handle it ourselves.”
Margaret sat at the kitchen table, looking at Emily hopefully.
“Emily, these guests are a nightmare. How do we put them off? George is already dreaming of moving nearby and visiting constantly. And their grandkids! Compared to our Tommy, it’s night and day. Why so quiet?”
“I’m thinking,” Emily replied. “Do you really want to discourage them?”
“I wish they’d never come,” Margaret sighed. “A whole week of this! My husband’s fine—gets sloshed with them and passes out, while they roam all night—balcony, kitchen, loo. Last time, they knocked a flowerpot off the balcony! Thankfully, it was dark—just scared the cats. Pity about the flowers, though. That was a new pot.”
“What should we cook?” Emily asked.
“Maybe we’re hosting them wrong?” Margaret suggested.
“How did they host you when you visited them?”
“Well… it wasn’t bad…”
“Be honest!” Emily pressed.
“They’re different at home. There, George’s wife, Patricia, keeps him in check. They don’t linger at the table—Patricia finds work for them: digging, building, whatever.”
“What was the food like?”
“Simple. Nearly meatless stew, potatoes, pickled cabbage, homegrown cucumbers. Not even a proper barbecue! We even brought meat once, but they didn’t bother cooking it. Patricia said the table was already full.”
“Full, I won’t argue,” Emily nodded. “Three types of cucumbers: fresh, lightly salted, in salad. Vegetables, herbs, potatoes. No fish, let alone meat. Courgette fritters!”
“Maybe they’re vegetarians?” Margaret wondered.
“At home, yes—but here, they devour meat like there’s no tomorrow,” Emily smirked. “Exactly! We’ll feed them their own menu. Less cost, barely any cooking. No meat. And do we really need to clean and wash everything beforehand?”
“It’s already clean,” Margaret said. “I’ll tidy up after they leave. But no meat?”
“James and Edward will have to wait. They can go for a proper meal after the guests leave. Besides, it’s Lent.”
“We’ve never observed it before,” Margaret said, surprised.
“We will now. If they complain, blame me. Their daughter-in-law’s bad, but I’m worse.”
“But…”
“It has to be this way. Just play along. Act surprised by nothing—I’ll take charge. We’ll move in with you for the week. Tommy’s coming too. Why should guests take up two rooms? They’ll manage in one, balcony included.”
“But there’s only a sofa—two couples and two kids!” Margaret panicked.
“It’s necessary. James will bring an air mattress. They’ll squeeze in.”
The guests arrived. George frowned at the table.
“Where’s the meat?” he asked. “This feels rather sparse. Not even sausage in the potato salad?”
“That’s not potato salad,” Emily said calmly. “Decent meat’s too expensive now. Thought about bones for broth, but they weren’t fresh. Sitting at the market, no one’s buying—prices are ridiculous!”
“Emily, don’t fret,” Margaret interjected. “No point cooking with poor ingredients.”
“Exactly!” Emily agreed. “Better a vegetable stew. Herbed potatoes, courgette-and-buckwheat fritters. Almost like meat—try them! All steamed, diet-friendly. You’ve got meat at home! Here, it’s beetroot salad, carrot slaw—seasonal and simple.”
“What’s for tomorrow?” George grumbled.
“Leftover stew from the fridge,” Emily said. “We’re all at work. Want something else? Cook it yourselves. Blame us—we’ve gone without meat for ages.”
“Shall we serve you lobster next? Fancy some oysters?” George sneered.
“Lobster’s overkill, but fish is a fine idea,” Emily smiled. “Then we’ll cook nothing tomorrow.”
“Susan, what kind of household is this?” Margaret’s sister snapped. “Who’s in charge here?”
“James and Emily are staying with us temporarily,” Margaret sighed. “We just have to bear it.”
“How long must you endure this?” Patricia asked.
“Till the house is built,” Emily cut in. “Care to help? Think it over—you’ve got time. One workday, then the weekend. Plenty to do. Now, bedtime—early start tomorrow. We’ll clear the table, the men will sort sleeping arrangements and help the kids. You’re guests—you get the biggest room. James is inflating the mattress.”
“Everyone’s sleeping here?” Patricia gaped. “You’re not leaving?”
“No, we live here now. Cramped, but what can you do? And don’t wander at night. Oh, I sleepwalk. If you see me—don’t panic, don’t wake me. It doesn’t always happen, but just in case.”
“Lovely night ahead…” George muttered.
The guests slept poorly. By morning, they were packing abruptly.
“It’s too crowded here,” Patricia announced. “We’re not used to sharing one room with kids. Thanks for the ‘delicious’ dinner. We’re off. Our daughter-in-law’s no saint, but Emily, Susan—yours is something else! How do you live with her? Even a walk last night was risky—that food had our stomachs growling.”
“What’s wrong with our food?” Emily feigned offence. “It was lovely! We make do with what we have. This is how we eat now. You’ll adjust. Sleep well?”
“Perfectly, thanks,” Patricia grunted.
“Brilliant. We’ll expect you next time!” Emily beamed.
A month later, James asked,
“Emily, the guests haven’t visited in ages. Shall we invite them for the housewarming?”
“No,” she said. “I refuse to eat beetroot salad and buckwheat fritters. Let them think the house isn’t ready.”
Her mother-in-law asked for help with the guests—and they helped. Now, the guests don’t visit at all….