Whoa, Dad, They’re Welcoming You—Why Did You Need That Health Spa When Home Is Already an All‑Inclusive?

When David handed Ethel the keys to his flat, she felt the moment was sealed: the lock was finally hers. No Hollywood star ever waited for an Oscar as Ethel had waited for David, and now she even had her own little haven.

Disheartened at thirtyfive, she found herself casting sympathetic glances toward the streetside pigeons and the window displays of All Things Craft.

And then there was Davidalone, a man who had spent his youth on a career, proper nutrition, the gym and all the other fancies of selfdiscovery, yet remained childless.

Ethel had been dreaming of this gift since she was twenty, and somewhere up above it seemed the heavens finally confirmed she wasnt joking.

My last business trip of the year is coming up, and Im all yours, David said, placing the coveted keys in her palm. Dont be alarmed by my barracks. I only come home for a nights sleep, he added, before jetting off to another time zone for the weekend.

Ethel grabbed her toothbrush, a tube of cream and set off to see what this barracks really was. Trouble greeted her at the door. David had warned her that the lock could be capricious, but she hadnt imagined it would be so stubborn.

She wrestled with the door for forty minutes: pushing, pulling, slipping the key in all the way, coaxing it half a toothturn, but the portal refused to yield to its new keeper.

She began to prod psychologically, the way schoolyard mates once teased each other behind the garage. The clatter awakened a neighbours door.

Why are you trying to break into someone elses flat? a concerned woman asked.

Im not breaking in, I have the keys, Ethel snapped, wiping sweat from her brow.

And who might you be? I dont think Ive seen you before, the neighbour persisted.

Im his girlfriend! Ethel declared, turning and bracing herself against the wall, only to see a narrow slit through which the neighbour continued her interrogation.

You? the woman said, genuinely puzzled.

Yes, thats me. Any trouble?

No, none at all. He never brings anyone here (a thought that made Ethel love David even more), and now

Whats that? Ethel asked, confused.

Its none of my business. Sorry, the neighbour said, shutting the door.

Realising it was either her or the lock, Ethel thrust the key in with all the longing she could muster, nearly turning the whole bolt round in a full circle. At last the door swung open.

Davids entire inner world lay before her, and her soul felt a chill of wonder. Of course a solitary young man bears a certain ascetic air, but this was genuine comfort.

Poor thing, your heart has long forgotten, perhaps never even known, what true snugness feels like, Ethel murmured as she surveyed the modest flat she would now frequent.

On the other hand, she was delighted. The neighbour had not lied: a womans hand had never touched these walls, this floor, this kitchen, or these grey panes. Ethel was the first.

Unable to sit still, she bolted to the nearest store for a pretty curtain and a bathroom mat, and, of course, a few hooks and kitchen towels.

The shop was a treasure trove along with the mat and curtain came scented sachets, handcrafted soap, and handy tins for cosmetics.

Adding such trinkets to someone elses flat isnt rude at all, Ethel told herself, hitching a second trolley to the first full of goods.

The lock finally gave up. In truth it had ceased to function, resembling a hockey goalie who forgets his mask before a match.

Realising the mess shed made, Ethel used kitchen knives to wrest the old lock apart until midnight, then dashed to the shop for a new one. The knives, of course, needed replacing too, along with forks, spoons, a tablecloth, chopping boards and potholders. And, eventually, shed even handpainted the curtains.

On Sunday at lunch David called, saying his business trip would be delayed a couple of days.

Ill be happy if you bring a touch of warmth and cosiness into my flat, he laughed over the line when Ethel confessed shed taken a few liberties with his décor.

By then she had already flooded the flat with furnishings, arranging everything according to a meticulous plan and the accompanying paperwork. All those years of hoarding inside a solitary woman finally found an outlet, and she could not stop.

The only resident left from Davids old flat was a spider near the vent. Ethel considered chasing it away, but seeing its eight eyes, widened by the sudden upheaval, she decided better not to disturb the pitiful creature and left it as a tiny token of untouchable property.

Davids flat now looked as if he had spent eight blissful years in marriage, grown disillusioned, and then found happiness again against all odds.

Ethel not only tended to the flat but also made sure every neighbour knew she was the new landlady, and that any queries should be directed to her. No wedding ring yetjust a technicality.

At first the neighbours regarded her with suspicion, then simply shrugged: Do as you wish, its your business anyway.

***

On the day David was due back, Ethel prepared a proper homecooked dinner, packed her stillfresh fillet pieces in a neat, albeit slightly gaudy, tin, arranged scented candles around, dimmed the new lighting and waited.

David was delayed. When the pressure of the packed tin began to press against the corner where shed spent half a year in the gym, a new key turned in the lock.

A brandnew lock, just push it, it wont stick! Ethel replied, a little flustered but with a lingering sigh. She feared no judgment; she had worked hard on the flat and would be forgiven.

Just as the door opened, a sudden text from David buzzed on her phone: Where are you? Im home. The flat looks almost unchanged. The mates warned me youd turn it into a beauty salon.

Ethel only saw that message much later. In the meantime five strangers marched into the flat: two young adults, two schoolage children and a very old gentleman who, upon seeing Ethel, straightened his hair and smoothed his silver strands.

Good heavens, sir, youre being welcomed. Why did you need a sanatorium when you have an allinclusive home? the younger man blurted, instantly receiving a slap from his wife for his cheekiness.

Ethel stood on the threshold with two full glasses, unable to move. She wanted to shout, but a nervous stupor held her fast.

A cheerful spider chirped from a corner.

Excuse me, who are you? Ethel squeaked.

The owner of the local haven. And you, I presume, are from the clinic, here for a dressingup? I thought Id manage on my own, the elderly man replied, eyeing the nurses uniform Ethel wore.

Mm, yes, Adam Whitaker, you have quite the cosy sanctuary here, the husbands wife peered over Ethels shoulder. Its a different story than living in a crypt. And you, miss, whats your name? Is Adam Whitaker a bit dated for you? Of course, a respectable man, with his own roof

Ethel

Ah, there you go! Well done, Adam Whitaker, you pick people nicely, I must say!

From the gleam in his eyes, the old man seemed to think the whole affair a happy coincidence.

Wheres David? Ethel whispered, drying both glasses in a nervous rush.

Im David! a boy of about eight raised his hand triumphantly.

Hold on, youre a bit young to be David, his mother pulled him away, ushering the children and husband to the car.

Im I think Ive got the wrong flat, Ethel finally stammered, recalling the lock. Is this Bexley, 18, flat 26?

No, thats Bexley, 18, the old man corrected, rubbing his hands, ready to unwrap his unexpected present.

So, Ethel sighed, I mixed them up. Come in, make yourselves at home, Ill step out for a moment, I must make a call.

She snatched her phone and fled to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and wrapping a towel around herself. There she read Davids message.

David, Ill be there soon, just delayed at the shop, she typed back.

Alright, waiting. If its not too much trouble, bring a bottle of red, his voice note pinged.

The red wine was already in her mind. She tucked a mat under her arm, lifted the curtain and, once the strangers had moved to the kitchen, slipped out of the bathroom.

Gathering her things into a bag, she bolted from the flat.

***

Ill tell you later, Ethel said, explaining her appearance to the young man who opened the door for her.

Drifting like a mist, she passed him without a glance, first changing the bathroom curtain and laying down the mat, then wandering into the lounge where she collapsed onto the sofa and slept until morning, letting all the stress and the imagined red wine evaporate.

When she awoke, a stranger lay opposite her, waiting for explanations.

Whats the address again?

Flat 18, Bexley.

And with that, the tale lingered on, a reminder of an ordinary woman who turned a strangers flat into a home, and of how a simple set of keys could unlock far more than just a door.