Because of My Mother, Our Flat Became the Village’s Hotel

It had always been my husbands and my greatest dream to live by the sea. For ten long years, we trudged along, never fitting in anywhere, and saved every penny for a modest flat in a seaside town. We didnt aim for anything extravagant; a simple two or three-bedroom flat would do, and honestly, the décor or layout didnt much bother us.

And then, finally, our dream became reality. We still had loans hanging over our heads, but wed achieved our goal. The sea, our own place, just a stones throw from the shore exactly what wed longed for.

For the first two months, I heaved a sigh of relief and let myself unwind. Then my mother paid us a visit. She was all smiles, admiring the cosy flat, but promptly asked for her own set of keys, claiming shed like to pop in without having to arrange it beforehand. My husband and I didnt suspect that those keys would soon multiply like rabbits.

One morning, while still tucked up in bed, we heard the lock turn and a knock at the door. My husband, assuming it was only my dear mum, hurriedly dressed and went to greet her. To his shock, he found himself face-to-face with a family and two children in the hallway. When I joined the impromptu welcome committee, I realised it was my cousins family.

We masked our bewilderment with forced cheer, not knowing what else to do. My sister, utterly unfazed, confessed shed had a new set made from Mums spare keys, and Mum had assured them wed delight in a surprise visit.

These holiday-makers stayed for a week. They had brought food with them from their village, so meals werent an issue. But sharing our flat with another family, especially in a festive mood, did nothing for my husbands and my own relaxation.

Once we saw them off, I called my mother and politely requested that she not orchestrate any more surprise reunions. She couldnt understand my agitation; nothing dreadful had happened, after all. My sister was thrilled by how we hosted them and fully expected to enjoy free seaside accommodation every summer.

Then, inspired by Mums example, other relatives joined the fray. Uncles, aunts, nephews, distant family they appeared at our flat out of nowhere. Sometimes several would arrive at once, and they all greeted each other cheerfully, proclaiming:

Well, where else would we all meet but at Samanthas house!

Samantha me was barely noticed, nor was my husband. We were merely the owners, wandering about, as if we were just another couple making excuses to the villagers whod come to visit.

After two seasons of surprise guests, I asked Mum to kindly return the keys. She took deep offence, accusing me of arrogance and distancing myself from family. When I told my husband about the exchange, he hugged me and whispered,

You do realise there are so many sets of keys now, Mums isnt going to solve anything. If you dont mind, tomorrow well get a new door, with new locks.

I agreed. A week later, we listened quietly for about an hour as various aliens tried to jiggle the locks with old keys. Then came calls to our mobiles, but we resolutely ignored them.

That evening, I endured a scandalous phone call from Mum. She was furious that our third cousin had to spend the night at the railway station, waiting for his train. When I asked Mum what the name of that uninvited guest was, I only got the sound of a phone hanging up.

There were a couple more failed attempts by relatives to commandeer our flat. The new door stood firm, and at last my husband and I felt this was truly our home, not some open thoroughfare.

Now, Mum no longer visits us, out of solidarity with her kin. I try to keep the peace with her, but I wont let anyone else into our flat. This is my husbands and my territory earned through our own hard work.

Curiously, not a single one of our extended family decided to follow our path and buy their own seaside home. Yet, they were all ready to show up at ours, happy as anything, with much less effort than us.