**Unwelcome Visitors: A Tale of Family Scheming**
Emma sighed heavily, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Margaret,” she said to her mother-in-law, who sat at the kitchen table in their cottage in the village of Willowbrook, “these guests are wearing me out. How can we put them off? They seem to love it here! And their grandchildren—absolute terrors. Why so quiet, Emma?”
“Just thinking,” Emma replied, staring out the window. “Are you sure you want to be rid of them?”
“Absolutely,” Margaret nodded firmly. “A whole week of this! My husband’s fine—he’ll drink their homemade cider and then doze off. But they’re up all night, wandering about—balcony, kitchen, wherever…”
“Leave it to me,” Emma said firmly. “Don’t react to anything. I’ll do the talking.”
And so, the relatives arrived.
“Margaret, what is this?” her sister gasped, frozen at the doorstep at the sight before her.
Earlier, Emma had been baffled when her husband broke the news.
“Emma, Mum’s having guests over. We need to host them properly.”
“Your parents’ guests?” she frowned. “And we’re hosting?”
“Well, yes,” nodded William. “Mum asked for help. They’re coming tomorrow.”
“To our rented flat? With one bedroom?” Emma could feel irritation bubbling inside her.
“They’re family! We’ve got to help Mum with the cooking. She insisted.”
“You could’ve said so straight away instead of beating around the bush,” Emma sighed. “Fine, I’ll help with the cooking. What else?”
“We’ll need to clean, scrub everything, change the curtains. The usual.”
“Your mother’s place is always spotless,” Emma argued.
“Not enough for guests.”
“And we’re the ones cleaning up after? Remember last time? Your Uncle Thomas nearly ruined the curtains with his grubby hands! And the balcony looked like a tip. Mark my words—they’re not stepping foot in our place!”
“But we’ll have a house soon!” William reminded her.
“Not hosting them inside. The housewarming will be outdoors, in summer. I’ll oversee everything. No dirty hands allowed.”
“You’re taking this cleanliness thing too far,” William muttered.
“So’s your mum. Last time, she nearly had a breakdown after they left. She’s not young anymore. Relax—we’ll handle it.”
Margaret sat at the kitchen table, looking at Emma hopefully.
“Emma, these guests are a nightmare. How do we put them off? Thomas is practically planning to move here permanently. And the grandchildren! Compared to our little Harry—night and day. Why so quiet?”
“Thinking,” Emma said. “You’re sure you want them gone?”
“I’d rather they never came,” Margaret sighed. “A whole week of this! My husband’s happy—he’ll drink with them and pass out, but they’re up all night—balcony, kitchen, loo. Last time, one of them knocked a flowerpot off the balcony. Thank goodness it was dark—just scared the cats. Pity about the flowers, though, and the pot was new.”
“What are we cooking?” Emma asked.
“Maybe we’re hosting them wrong,” Margaret mused.
“How did they host you when you visited?”
“Well… alright, I suppose…”
“Be honest!” Emma pressed.
“At home, they’re different. Thomas’s wife, Susan, keeps him in line. They don’t linger at the table—Susan finds them work. Digging, building, something.”
“What was the food like?”
“Plain. Thin soup, potatoes, pickled cabbage, cucumbers—all homegrown. No roast, not even when we brought the meat! Susan insisted the table was full.”
“Full, sure,” Emma snorted. “Three kinds of cucumbers—fresh, lightly salted, in salad. Veg, herbs, potatoes. Not a scrap of meat in sight. Courgette fritters!”
“Maybe they’re vegetarians?” Margaret wondered.
“At home, yes. But here? They wolf down meat like there’s no tomorrow,” Emma smirked. “Got it. We’ll feed them their own menu. Less expense, barely any cooking. No meat. And do we really need to clean before they arrive?”
“Place is tidy,” Margaret said. “I’ll clean up after. But no meat?”
“William and Geoffrey will have to manage. They can have a proper meal when the guests leave. Besides, it’s Lent.”
“We’ve never kept Lent,” Margaret frowned.
“We do now. If they complain, blame me. Their daughter-in-law’s bad enough—I’ll be worse.”
“But—”
“It’s necessary. Just play along. We’ll stay with you for the week. Harry too. No need for them to hog two rooms—they can squeeze into one, balcony included.”
“But there’s only the sofa! Two couples and two children,” Margaret faltered.
“Needs must. William will bring an air mattress—they’ll fit.”
The guests arrived. Thomas eyed the table suspiciously.
“Where’s the meat?” he demanded. “Bit sparse, isn’t it? Not even sausage in the potato salad.”
“That’s not potato salad,” Emma said smoothly. “Couldn’t afford decent meat—prices are mad. Thought about bones for broth, but they weren’t fresh. Just sitting at the market, Lent and all—no buyers, yet prices sky-high!”
“Emma, love, don’t fret,” Margaret cut in. “No point cooking with poor ingredients.”
“Exactly!” Emma agreed. “Better a veggie soup. Jacket potatoes with parsley, courgette and buckwheat fritters—almost like meat! Try them. All steamed, diet-friendly. You’ll never gain weight like this. Plenty of meat at your place, anyway. Here, it’s beetroot salad, carrot slaw—all seasonal.”
“What’s for tomorrow?” Thomas grumbled.
“Soup’s in the fridge,” Emma said. “We’re all at work. Want something else? Cook it yourselves. Feel free to make extra—we’ve gone without meat for ages.”
“What’s next, smoked salmon? Fancy oysters?” Thomas sneered.
“Oysters? Bit much. But fish is a fine idea!” Emma beamed. “Then tomorrow, we won’t cook.”
“Margaret, what sort of household is this?” her sister snapped. “Who’s in charge here?”
“William and Emma are staying with us,” Margaret sighed. “We’ve had to adjust.”
“How long must you endure this?” Susan asked.
“Till the house is built,” Emma interjected. “Fancy helping? Plenty to do. One workday, then the weekend free. But now—bedtime. Early start tomorrow. We’ll clear up, the men will sort the beds and the kids. You’re in the biggest room—guests of honour. William’s inflating the mattress now.”
“All of us in one room?” Susan gaped. “You’re not leaving?”
“No, we live here now. Cosy, but needs must. And don’t wander at night—I sleepwalk. If you see me, don’t panic. Don’t wake me. Doesn’t happen often, but still.”
“Lovely…” Thomas muttered.
The guests slept poorly. By morning, they were packing.
“Too cramped,” Susan declared. “Not used to sharing with kids. Thanks for the ‘fine’ dinner. We’re off. Our daughter-in-law’s no peach, but yours, Margaret? How do you stand her? Even a walk last night was risky—that food had our stomachs groaning.”
“What was wrong with the food?” Emma feigned outrage. “All delicious! We eat what we can afford. You’ll get used to it. Sleep well?”
“Perfect, thanks,” Susan muttered.
“Splendid! Do visit again!” Emma smiled.
A month later, William asked, “Emma, the guests haven’t visited in ages. Shall we invite them for the housewarming?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve no appetite for beetroot salad and buckwheat fritters. Let them think the house isn’t ready.”
Mother-in-law needed help with guests—so we helped. Now the guests don’t come at all.
**Lesson:** Sometimes, the best way to deter unwanted visitors isn’t by turning them away—but by making them want to leave.
