My Husband’s Relatives Invited Themselves to Our Holiday Cottage – But I Refused to Give Them the Keys

My mum and I were chatting, and we reckon theres no point letting your cottage just sit empty over the holiday, is there? Well pop down with the kids for the New Year break. Fresh air, sledge runs, get the old woodburner going. Youre always working anyway, Sophie, and Martin needs a rest but says hes not coming, just wants to sleep. So hand over the keys, well get there bright and early tomorrow.

Amanda, Martins sister, spoke so loudly and matter-of-factly down the phone that Sophie actually had to pull it away from her ear. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, drying a just-washed plate with a tea towel, trying to process what shed heard. The brazen entitlement from her in-laws had always been a bit of a family joke, but this was a whole new level.

Hang on, Amanda, Sophie said slowly, desperately trying to keep her voice from shaking with the irritation boiling inside. What do you mean, you decided? Whos we? The cottage isnt a community centre, or a holiday park. Its Martins and my home. We were actually planning to spend some time there ourselves.

Oh, dont be silly! Amanda waved away her response audibly, clearly munching on something. Martin told mum youll be at home, glued to the telly over Christmas. Youve tons of spacetwo floors! If you really must pop down, you wont even notice were there. Honestly, better if you dont; well be a rowdy lot, Garth will have some mates over, barbecue, music… You with your books would just be bored stiff.

Sophie felt her cheeks flush with anger. She instantly pictured it: Amandas husband Garth, a big fan of boisterous singalongs and hefty beverages, their two boisterous teenage kids, whod never heard the word no, and the poor cottage shed poured all her soul and savings into over the past five years.

No, Amanda, Sophie said firmly. Im not giving you the keys. The cottage isnt ready for guests; you need to know how to handle the boiler, the septic tanks a pain. And frankly, Im not willing to have a group of people traipsing about our home.

Oh, are you really calling us strangers? Amandas voice shot up, the crunching finally stopping. Your husbands own sister, your nephew and niece! Whats happened to you, turned sour with all that accounting? Im calling MumIll tell her how you treat your family!

The dial tone blared like a gunshot in Sophies ear. She slowly put the phone on the counter. Her hands were shaking. She knew it was only the beginningnext, the heavy artillery would appear in the form of her mother-in-law, Brenda, and an all-out siege would begin.

Martin appeared in the kitchen a minute later, wearing a sheepish smile. Hed obviously heard the commotion, but chose to wait in the lounge, hoping Sophie would sort things out herself.

Soph, was that really necessary? he hedged, trying to put an arm around her. Amandas a bit thoughtless, yeah, but they are family. Theyll be hurt.

Sophie brushed his arm away and turned to face him. Exhaustion and steely determination filled her eyes, and Martin fell silent.

Do you remember last May? she asked quietly.

Martin winced, as if reminded of toothache.

Well, yes…

Yes? Sophies voice rose. They rocked up just for a barbie, two days. Result: they snapped the apple tree my dad planted. Charcoal burns all over the sitting room carpetstill covered in stains, despite my scrubbing for a week. Piles of dirty dishes because Amanda declared, Ive just had my nails done, use the dishwasherwhich they then filled with greasy plates and congealed meat, blocked the filter, and never turned on! The smashed vase? The trampled peonies?

Theyre just kids… probably got carried away, mumbled Martin, staring at the pattern on the lino.

Kids? Your nephews fifteen, your niece thirteen! Not exactly sandpit material, are they? They nearly burnt down the sauna, remember, left the vent shut and filled it with smoke! And now you want them alone there for a weekin winter?

Garth said hed keep an eye on things.

Garth will only keep an eye on the drinks cabinet! snapped Sophie, turning to the window. No, Martin. Im serious. That cottage is as much mine as yours, legally and otherwise. Its where all the funds from selling my grans house went. I know every inch of it, every nail. I wont let them trash it.

The evening crawled by in heavy silence. Martin fiddled with the TV remote before giving up and heading to bed, while Sophie sat in the kitchen, sipping cold tea and recalling the years theyd spent rebuilding the house.

It wasnt just a cottage to her; it was a dream. The old wooden frame, inherited from Sophies parents, had been their project for three whole years. Shed saved every penny: skipped new clothes, no seaside holidays, all for the renovation. Sophie sanded the beams, painted the walls, sewed the curtains, picked the tiles for the fireplace. It was her sanctuary, her retreat from spreadsheets, traffic, and noisea world away from her in-laws, who saw it only as a free holiday base with proper heating.

The next daySaturdaythe doorbell rang. Sophie glanced through the spyhole and exhaled slowly. There was Brenda, her mother-in-law, dressed to the nines in a fur hat, lipstick immaculate, and arms laden with a bag from which a frozen salmon tail protruded.

Open up, Sophie! We need to talk! Brenda hollered, not bothering with pleasantries.

Sophie obliged. Brenda swept in like a vessel in an Arctic convoy, filling the hallway entirely. Martin dashed out, flustered and keen:

Mum! You didnt say you were coming.

Oh, so now I need an appointment to see my own son? sniffed Brenda, tossing her coat at Martin. Put the kettle on. And fetch my valerianthis lot are giving me palpitations.

In the kitchen, Brenda seated herself like the head of the family council. Sophie served tea and a slab of Battenberg cake in silence, bracing herself.

Well then, Sophie, Brenda began, sipping her tea. Whats Amanda ever done to you? Martins own sister! All she wanted was the keyto let the kids have some fresh air. Their flats a building site at the moment, dust everywhere, the children need to breathe. Whats the harm in letting them stay at your palace?

Its not a palace, Brenda, just a regular house that needs care, Sophie replied calmly. Amandas been renovating for five years nowthat doesnt entitle her to take over our space. And I remember the last time they visited all too well. I still cant get the smell of smoke out the guest curtains though I asked them not to smoke indoors.

Oh, whats a bit of smoke? Brenda flapped her hands. Open a window! You care too much about things, not enough about people. Martin was raised to be kind, generous, not mean. You wont be able to take the cottage with you in a box when you go!

Mum, Sophies put a lot into it… Martin protested awkwardly.

Quiet! Brenda snapped. Henpecked, the lot of you. Amanda and the kids are supposed to freeze to death? Garths birthdays January third, forty-five years! Theyve friends coming, bought all the food. What are they supposed to do, cancel? Let everyone down?

Thats not my problem, Brendathey shouldnt have invited people to someone elses house without asking, Sophie retorted. Thats just rude.

Brendas face turned crimson. She wasnt used to being contradicted; her words usually steamrollered Martin, always eager to keep the peace. But Sophie was not one for backing down.

Rude? Brenda clutched her chest in theatrical pain. So thats what weve come to? I opened my heart to you, treated you like a daughter, and now this? Martin! Are you hearing your wife? If those keys arent on the table for Amanda by tomorrow, I swearIll cast a curse on that cottage! Youll never see me set foot in it again!

“You’re never there anyway; you hate getting your hands dirty in the garden,” Sophie shot back.

“You cheeky cow!” Brenda leapt up, knocking over her chair. “Martin, give me the keys! I’ll get them to Amanda myself! Whos in charge in this house?”

Martin glanced helplessly from wife to mum. He dreaded Brendas fury (shed always ruled the roost), but he loved Sophie, and, if he was honest, hed had more than enough of the relatives on tour routine. He vividly remembered fixing the porch Garth smashed up hauling his grill in during a downpour.

Mum, Sophies got the keys, he mumbled. We might just go ourselves.

Lies! Brenda spat. Heres how itll go: Amandas coming first thing tomorrow. Keys better be on the tableand instructions for the boiler, too! Or, Martin, Ive got no son. And you she jabbed her finger at Sophie, will remember this day. Life goes around in a circle.

Brenda flounced out, door slamming behind her, leaving only the ticking of the clock behind.

Youre not going to give her the keys, are you? Martin asked quietly half an hour later.

No. In fact, Martin, were leaving in the morningtaking the car and getting to the cottage ourselves.

But… we werent going; you had those reports to do.

Plans change. If we dont get there, theyll storm the place. You know Amanda; shed climb through the window if she felt she had a right to it. But she wont if were already there.

Soph, this is turning into a war…

Its called holding the line, Martin. Pack up.

They left at dawn, before the city had woken up, under the sparkle of Christmas lights, with anything but festive spirits. Martin fidgeted, kept glancing at his phoneSophie had asked for it on silent.

The drive to the cottage took ninety minutes. When they arrived, the village was blanketed in snow, the cottage itself like something from a fairy tale. Sophie finally felt safe.

They lit the fire, turned on the underfloor heating, and Sophie dug out Christmas baubles. By lunchtime it smelled of pine and oranges. Martin set about shovelling the drive, and Sophie watched him from the window, happy to see him relaxed at last.

But at 3pm, the storm broke.

Persistent car horns echoed at the front gate. Sophie looked out and froze: two cars, Garths old Land Rover and an unknown saloon. A crowd spilled outAmanda in a garish puffer, Garth swaying in an open coat, the kids, another couple with a dog the size of a small ponya Rottweiler, with no lead or muzzle. And Brenda, reigning over them all.

Martin stood, spade in hand, rooted to the driveway.

“Let us in, were frozen! Hosts, your guests are here!” bellowed Garth, his voice rattling the fences.

Sophie threw on her jumper and boots, hurried to the porch. Martin stood by the gate, hand on the bolt, hesitating.

Martin, open upwere perishing! Amanda shouted, rattling the latch. Sophie, get a move on, we came for a surprise! Itll be even better with you herelets have a proper bash, all together!

Sophie strode up to her husband, squeezed his shoulder, and said, loudly and clearly:

Hello. We werent expecting guests.

Oh, dont start that, Garth transgressed, swaying near the fence. Its a laugh! We brought meat, crate of vodka, got Steve and his missusshe brought the dog, shes harmless. Come on, Martin, let us in!

The dog? Sophie saw it cocking a leg on her precious, carefully-wrapped for winter cypress tree. Get that dog away from my plants!

Its just a tree! Amanda cackled. Come on, open upkids need the loo!

Theres a service station five miles up the road, Sophie replied crisply. I told you yesterday: the cottage is occupied. Martin and I are staying here. Theres no room for ten people and a dog.

A silence hung over the other side of the fence. For once, the family seemed at a loss. Turning up was their go-to tacticsurely nobody would turn away a crowd, especially with Brenda in tow.

Youre not seriously leaving us out in the cold? Brendas voice shook with outrage. Your own mum? Martin, say something!

Martin looked at his wife, pleading.

Soph, theyve come all this way what can we do?

This, Martin, Sophie said sharply. If you open that gate now, within an hour the place will be a tip. The dog will destroy the garden and the carpets, the kids will ruin the upstairs, Amanda will lecture me on how to cook roast and Garth will chain-smoke in the lounge. Thats how our New Year will end before its begun. Is that really what you want? Or would you rather a quiet New Year here with me? Decidenow.

Martin gazed at the noisy crowd. Garth now started kicking the car tyre, Amanda screeched something about heartless cows, the kids lobbed snowballs at the windows. Brenda clutched her chest in mock agony.

A memory flashed over him: spending three days fixing the broken swing, feeling ashamed of the ruined carpet, wishing he could just read by the fire instead of playing host and fetch-and-carry for Garth.

Martin straightened, walked to the gate, andperhaps not loudly, but with firmnesssaid:

Mum, Amanda. Sophies right. We told you the keys werent available, were not having guests. Please leave.

What?! his family howled.

You heard me. This is my house too. Im not having a circus here. Go on, off you go.

Youyou!” Garth tried wrestling the gate bolt, getting nowhere.

“Leave, Garth,” Martin gripped his shovel. “Any more of this, I’ll ring the police. The village warden’s never far off.”

“Strangers?!” Brenda gasped. “Your own family? Curse you, Judas! And your viper of a wife, too! I’ll never set foot in your life again!”

Come on, Garth, Amanda called, tugging her husbands sleeve. They’re mental! We’re going to Steves placehalf-built but at least its not run like a prison!

Yeah, come round ours, Steve said hurriedly, eager to escape this family drama. Well light the stove.

The engines roared; cars, swerving in the snow, turned and shuddered away. Amanda stuck two fingers up at Sophie through the window. Brenda stared stonily ahead as the Land Rover pulled away.

Five minutes later, all was quiet again, save for a yellow puddle by the cypress tree and gentle, drifting snow.

Martin thrust his shovel into a snow bank and slumped on the steps, head in his hands.

Oh God, what a mess, he muttered. Ive just turned my mum away.

Sophie sat beside him, wrapped her arm around him, pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

Its not a mess, Martin. Its growing up. Today you protected our little familynot the clan with their endless demands, but us. Together.

She wont forgive me.

She willwhen she wants something. Money for her prescriptions, help fixing a tap. Thats how it is with them, Martinthey cant hold grudges that get in their way. But now they know: theres a boundary, and it matters. They might even start respecting you. Eventually.

You think?

I know. And if not well, well have some peace. Lets go inside before you freeze. Ill put the mulled wine on.

Back in the warm, Sophie drew the curtains to seal out the cold and the bitterness beyond. That evening, they sat by the log fire, watching the flames in silencenot a resentful silence, but one of content, filled with unspoken understanding.

The following three days went by blissfully. They wandered through the woods, cooked steak for two, packed themselves into the sauna, read by the fire. Silence from the familyblackout declared.

On the third of January, as Sophie had predicted, Amandas text pinged on Martins phone. No apology, of course. Just a photo of a ramshackle shed, a battered stove, blue crates of booze, and a crowd of red-faced partygoers. The caption read, Having a smashing time without you! Bet youre jealous!

Sophie looked at the photo, at the filthy table, at Garths bloated face, and then back at her husband, sleeping in the deep armchair with a book in his laprelaxed, at peace, utterly hers.

Nothing to envy here, Amanda, she whispered, deleting the message.

A week later, after theyd gone back to London, Brenda called Martin herself. Her voice was frosty, wounded, but she needed a lift to her doctors appointment. She never mentioned the cottage. The boundary was set. There would still be stray skirmishes, but the stronghold held.

Sophie realised something important: sometimes, you have to be bad for other people, just to be good to yourself and protect whats precious. And after all that, the cottage keys were no longer on the hallway sideboard, but in her safejust in case.