My Husband’s Overly Intrusive Friend Kept Offering Her Help Around the House, So I Showed Her the Door

Emily was being way too clingy about helping around the house, so I gave her a gentle shove toward the door.

Emily, dont take this the wrong way, but the extractor fans got a layer of grease on it that you could actually fry chips on. I was just about to get the kettle boiling, thought Id give it a quick wipe. Youre always flatout with work, no time to worry about tidiness, and Andrew loves a spotless kitchen.

Grace was perched on a stool in the middle of the kitchen, armed with a sponge and a bottle of DegreaseAway that Emily kept stashed in the back of the cupboard because of its nasty smell. She was wearing Graces favourite lavender apron, looking as if shed been born in that kitchen and spent the last twenty years there.

Grace, frozen in the doorway with her laptop in hand, felt a hot wave of irritation roll up her throat. Shes the senior accountant, and right now, during quarterend, her head is buzzing with numbers, spreadsheets and endless calls from the tax office. At home she just wants peace and a cup of tea, not a lecture on domestic duties from the best friend of my husbands childhood.

Grace, could you step down, please? she managed to say, trying not to snap. I never asked you to clean the extractor. I have a cleaning rota, and the kitchen wont be tackled until Saturday.

Oh, stop with the schedules! Emily waved her elbow, her ginger curls bouncing with each gesture. Dirt doesnt wait for weekends. Andrew complained yesterday that his allergies flared up. Its all dust and grease. Ill sort this out in a flash and then make a proper borscht, the kind he loved back at school. You keep feeding him ready meals, which just ruins his stomach.

Grace slowly closed her laptop.

Andrew never mentioned allergies, hes got seasonal pollen on ragwort, she said flatly. And we havent eaten any ready meals since a month ago. Emily, put the sponge down. This is my house and my kitchen.

At that moment the front door slammed, and Andrews cheerful voice echoed down the hallway:

Girls, Im home! Wow, smells amazing! Emily, are you baking something?

He strutted into the kitchen, grinning like a freshly polished kettle, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air. Seeing Emily on the stool, his smile widened.

Look at you, Emily, youre a proper cleaning whizz. Grace, check out that shine! We never got around to it ourselves.

My hands get me a job that pays the mortgage, Andrew, Grace whispered, meeting his eyes. He, as usual, missed the hint.

Come off it, Grace, dont get worked up. Emilys just trying to help. Shes on holiday, bored, so she dropped by. Were family, right? Isnt that so, Emily?

Of course! Emily finally hopped off the stool, smoothed her short skirt and gave Andrew a friendly, slightly tooloud kiss on the cheek. I remember how picky you are about everything at home. You need everything crisp. Graces too busy building her career, so Im stepping in as the unofficial house manager.

Grace turned on her heel and slipped away to the bedroom. She wanted to scream, throw dishes, but she knew a scene now would make her look like a hysterical drama queen next to the saintly helper. Andrew and Emily were old pals; their mums were friends, and Emily had always been a background buzz in Andrews life. Lately that buzz had become deafening.

After a messy divorce, Emily had decided her mission was to rescue poor Andrew from domestic chaos. Shed show up unannounced, bring over containers of food, criticize the colour of the curtains and even rearrange the livingroom vases because thats how feng shui lets the money flow. Andrew, a gentle soul, just laughed and gobbled the meatballs she brought, never seeing a problem.

The evening turned into a nightmare. Grace was hunched over the accounts, trying to balance debits and credits, while from the kitchen came raucous laughter, clattering plates and the smell of borscht.

Remember the school trip in Year Nine? Emilys voice floated. You couldnt even pitch a tent, and I helped you hammer the pegs in!

Good times! Andrew chuckled. You were always the fighter.

Grace felt like an intruder in her own flat. She only left the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Come on, Grace, have a bite! Emily gestured grandly, already dressed in a cosy housecoat shed brought along. The borscht is brilliant. I added a secret ingredient, Andrews already polished off two bowls.

Thanks, Im not hungry, Grace said, pouring herself water. Andrew, I need to talk to you alone.

Come off it, love, were all family here, Andrew waved off, slathering mustard on his toast. Emily knows everything we do.

No, Andrew. Alone.

Sensing the steel in her tone, Andrew sighed, wiped his mouth with a napkin and followed her to the bedroom. Emily watched them go, a sympathetic look on her face like a doctor eyeing a patients relatives.

In the bedroom, Grace shut the door and faced Andrew.

Andrew, this has to stop.

What exactly? he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Emily. Shes everywhere. She shows up uninvited, fiddles with my things, cooks in my kitchen. I feel like a guest in my own home.

Grace, youre exaggerating. She just wants to help. Shes lonely at the moment, and were a family. Besides, the borscht is tasty, and you havent cooked this week.

I havent cooked because Im closing the financial year! Grace raised her voice. I earn the money, Andrew. I didnt hire Emily as a housekeeper. If I need help, Ill call a cleaning service. A stranger comes, does the job and leaves. Emily shes staking a claim.

What claim? Weve been friends since school! Shes like a sister to me.

Sisters dont behave like that. She constantly criticises megrease layer, ready meals, building a career. Do you hear how she paints me as a bad wife and herself as the perfect one?

Grace, youre just stressed from work, Andrew tried to hug her. You see enemies everywhere. Emilys a simple lot, she says what she thinks. Dont look for hidden motives. Sit tight, shell settle down and maybe find a new boyfriend.

Grace stepped back. The conversation went nowhere. Andrew was blinded whenever his friends were involved.

The next three days were relatively calm. Grace deliberately stayed late at work to avoid Emily. But Friday she had to leave earlymigraine hit her hard, circles dancing in her vision.

She fumbled for her keys, longing for nothing more than to collapse into a cool bed, draw the curtains and soak in silence.

The flat was eerily quiet. She slipped off her shoes, tiptoeing into the living room. It was empty, but the air was heavy with the sweet scent of Emilys perfume.

Grace headed for the bedroom. The door was ajar. She nudged it open and froze on the threshold, eyes wide.

Emily stood in front of the open wardrobe the shared wardrobe. A mountain of Andrews shirts, jumpers and even his underwear lay scattered on the bed. She hummed to herself, methodically rearranging piles.

What on earth are you doing? Graces voice cracked, loud enough to startle.

Emily jumped, a stack of tshirts tumbling from her hands. She turned, a flash of panic crossing her face before it was replaced by a smug, offended grin.

Oh, Grace! Sneaking around like a mouse? You gave me a fright!

I asked: what are you doing in my wardrobe? Grace stepped further in, the migraine receding as a cold fury rose.

Im tidying up, thats all! Emily planted her hands on her hips. I saw Andrews shirt all wrinkled, thought Id iron it. Turns out the whole lots a messsocks with knickers, winter with summer. I thought Id sort by colour and season. And, by the way, I tossed a couple of your jumpers in the bin. They were fuzzy, full of pills. Andrew would be embarrassed to wear them. A woman should look like a queen, even at home.

Grace looked down. A black garbage bag sat on the floor, its contents spilling out: the sleeve of her favourite cosy cardigan, the one she loves to curl up in at night.

That was the end of the line. No turning back.

Grace hauled the cardigan out, clutched it to her chest, and turned to Emily.

Out. Now.

What? Are you losing it? Emily huffed, trying to keep composure. Im just cleaning, and youre kicking me out? Ill tell Andrew youre a thankless hysteric! Hell

Hell come back to an empty flat if you dont disappear this instant, Grace cut in. Youve crossed every boundary. You invaded my bedroom, touched my husbands underwear, threw away my clothes. Thats not help, thats an invasion.

Im doing it for Andrew! He needs comfort!

He needs a wife, not a buzzing fly! Grace stepped closer, and Emily flinched. Do you think I dont see what youre doing? Youre trying to take my place, one tiny step at a time. Kitchen, then living room, now bedroom. Youre marking territory with your borscht and your orderliness. But Im the homeowner here.

Homeowner? Youre just a drycracker who only thinks about numbers! Andrews bored with you, he needs warmth, affection! Ive known him since we were kids, I know what he wants! Emilys face reddened.

If you knew what he wanted, youd be his wife, not his pantrylady, Grace snapped. He chose me, we live together, and youre the unwanted extra.

Emily sputtered, the edge of panic showing.

Fine Andrew will find out

He already will. Ill tell him myself. Pack your bag, youve got a minute.

Grace flung the front door wide. Emily grabbed her purse, slipped on her shoes and bolted down the hallway.

Youll regret this! she hissed, passing Grace. Youll be left alone with your pride!

Better alone than with a nosy friend in the house, Grace replied, slamming the door shut with a satisfying thud.

She leaned against the cold metal, closed her eyes. Her head started thumping again, but beneath it was a strange relief, as if shed finally cleared out the rubbish that had piled up for years.

An hour later Andrew walked back in, whistling, but his smile faded when he saw Graces solemn face and the houses sudden silence.

Grace? You home? Wheres Emily? She said shed surprise us, tidy up everything.

Grace was sitting on the sofa, the black bag of her discarded clothes lying on the coffee table.

Emilys not here, Andrew. She wont be.

Andrew furrowed his brow, removing his coat.

What do you meanshes gone? Did you have a row? Over nothing again? Grace, youre an adult

Its not nothing, Grace pointed at the bag. She invaded our bedroom, rummaged through your underwear, tossed my things, called me a drycracker and said youre miserable with me. Thats help? Thats family?

Andrew knelt, peered into the bag, and his eyes lit up when he saw his favourite cardigan and a few shirts.

She threw those out herself?

Yes. She decided she could dictate what I wear and how we live. Ive put up with her comments, her cooking, her constant presence for far too long. Today she crossed the line into our private space. The wardrobe. The bed, you could say.

Andrew ran his hands through his hair, looking stunned.

I didnt know I thought she just wanted to iron a shirt.

She wanted to prove shes better than me, that shes the boss. Andrew, its a choice. Either we keep our family, no outsiders, or you keep living with Emily and her borscht. But not with me. I wont let her make a fool of me in my own home again.

Andrew fell silent, staring at the bag, then at Grace tired, pale, but with a fierce spark in her eyes he hadnt seen in ages. He remembered the text Emily had sent that morning: Your lovebirds off to work again, didnt even warm his breakfast. No worries, Ill pop round later and tidy up. It had seemed sweet then; now it looked like an intrusion.

Im sorry, he finally said, voice soft. Ive been blind. Im used to her being around, always so active. Its gone too far.

He grabbed his phone, dialed, and put it on speaker.

Hello, Andrew? Emilys angry voice crackled. Can you believe this? Your wife

Emily, stop, Andrew cut in, tone firm. I know everything now. Why did you go through the wardrobe? Why toss Graces stuff?

They were old! I was just trying to help! Andrew, dont you see? She doesnt appreciate you!

Thats not your business, Emily. Grace is my wife, this is our home. Youve overstepped. Im banning you from coming over without an invite. We need a break from this.

What? Youre dumping me because of her? Were friends!

Friends respect each others families, Emily. You tried to tear mine apart. Dont call me again for a while. Goodbye.

He hung up, the room falling into a quiet that felt like a breath of fresh air.

Grace exhaled, shoulders finally relaxing.

Thank you, she whispered.

Andrew shuffled over, sat beside her and pulled her close.

Im sorry, I was blind. I thought the more people around, the merrier. Turns out a crowd in the bedroom isnt what we need.

Especially in the bedroom, Grace chuckled.

Ill sort that bag myself, Andrew said, smiling. And put your cardigan back where it belongs. I love it; you look cosy in it.

What about the borscht? Grace teased. You love the real thing, with bonein broth.

You know what, Andrew kissed her temple. Ill put up with the dumplings in peace, as long as we eat them in quiet. No more life lessons from anyone else.

From that day on, Emily vanished from their radar. She tried a few times to message Andrew about feeling lonely, but he gave short, polite replies. Eventually she found a new project elsewhere, and gossip about her spread through mutual friends.

Grace hired a parttime housekeepera quiet, pleasant woman who came once a week, left the flat smelling fresh and never lingered.

One evening, while Grace was pulling a lasagne from the oven after a halfhour of work, Andrew said:

Hey, the extractors still dirty.

Grace tensed.

And?

Nothing, he grinned, standing up and grabbing a sponge. Ill give it a clean. Im in a handy mood today. No Emily needed.

Grace watched him, smiling. She realised that sometimes, to keep a family solid, you just have to shut the door in the face of those who try to wade in with their own agendas, and not be afraid of being bad for strangers, so you can stay happy for the ones you love.