22June2025
Dear Diary,
Emma and I were buzzing this morning when I showed her the phone. Can you believe it, Mark? Tom and Lucy are coming for the weekend! she said, a grin spreading across her face.
Really? Its been agesabout five years, hasnt it? I replied, feeling a surge of excitement. Therell be plenty to catch up on.
Tom has been griping for months that things are getting worse back in Sheffield. Weve managed to get out, but theyre still stuck in the mire, hed complained. I suggested they stay with us. What do you think, love? No objections, I hope? I asked, halfeyebrowed.
Emma laughed. If theyve already decided without me, Im all for it. Well give them a proper London weekendshow them how life can be decent if you put in the effort. Pride flickered in her eyes; wed both fought our way up from modest beginnings and were now living comfortably, contrary to the whispers that provincial folk had nothing to aim for.
By the time the guests arrived, the flat was sparkling. Id given the curtains a good wash, laid fresh duvet sets from the wardrobe onto the sofa, bought a cosy throw so they wouldnt feel the chill, and added a couple of new pillows for extra comfort. We were treating their visit like a family reunion rather than a casual dropin.
Saturday morning the intercom buzzed. A minute later Tom and Lucy stood in the hallwayTom in an old tracksuit that would never be seen on a London street, Lucy in tight jeans and a cropped top, looking a touch sour and constantly scanning the corridor.
Welcome, you two, I said, opening the door.
Even better than I imagined, Tom said, slipping off battered trainers and flashing holes in his socks.
Lucy stepped deeper into the flat, surveyed the space, and asked, Is this yours?
No, its ours. Bought on a mortgage, I replied. Shall we head to the kitchen? Tea, coffee?
Coffee, Lucy answered promptly.
Ill need something stronger, Tom added, patting my shoulder.
An hour later the atmosphere had softened. We swapped news while Emma glanced about.
This place is a whole different world, she remarked.
The air feels cleaner too, and people seem to smile more, Lucy nodded.
Why wouldnt they? Theres something worth living for here, Tom chimed. Back home were stuck with no decent pay, no jobs. Its a nightmare.
I set a bowl of fruit and a homemade apple cake on the tablemy own little welcome treat.
Mark, Tom began over dinner, any vacancies at your firm? Im fed up with the grind for peanuts.
Ill see what I can do, I said. Were actually recruiting right now. I can put in a good word, though I cant promise anything.
Emma, curious, asked, Would you consider moving with the kids?
Tom hesitated. Lucy tried the cake, then said, Wed love to, but we have two children. The older just started nursery, and wed have to give up a spot we fought hard for. Plus, moving costs are a nightmare.
If need be, Tom could move first, I offered. We have a spare flat where two guys share a room. Theyre not complaining.
Emma caught a flicker of doubt in my eyes, but I brushed it aside with a smile.
Lucy, feeling the strain, whispered, I dont want us living apart, but we need security and a decent salary.
Monday they left. Tom sent his CV, and I passed it along. Within a fortnight he was offered a trial contractnothing senior, but a respectable salary in pounds and a clear path forward.
Mate, I owe you one, Tom said one evening, handing over a bottle of red. This is my lifeline. Back home weve got no options. Lets make this work.
Just dont let me down, I replied, uncorking the bottle.
Emma watched from the side. At first everything seemed fine: Tom would pop over for a cuppa, chat about his new role, and stay in the temporary shared flat with colleagues.
Tom, hows Lucy? How are the kids? Emma asked out of habit.
The kids are great. Ive sent them some money for new toys. Mums helping, but Lucys not thrilled Im away. Im glad for the break from her constant scrutiny, Tom admitted after a few glasses.
Longdistance is tricky, Emma mused. At least youll miss each other.
A few weeks later Tom returnednot alone, but with Lucy and the children.
We came for the weekend, Lucy announced, as if itd been prearranged. Weve missed you! The kids havent seen their dad in ages, and we havent seen you either.
Emma was taken aback; it had been a year or two since theyd last met, not just a fortnight. Right come on in. Ive roasted a chicken, she said, pulling herself together. Where did you stay?
In a hotel, Lucy sighed. Its pricey, but we cant afford anything else. We need to see each other now and then, or hell forget what I look like and bring someone else home.
Who am I supposed to bring then? I joked, my hospitality turning into routine.
Red or white? Lucy asked, halfserious.
Just a quick visit, then well need you to mind the kids while Tom and I have a minute alone, she giggled. Oneroom flats arent exactly romantic with children.
Emma glanced at me; I shrugged. I understood Toms plight, but sitting with strangers kids felt a bit odd.
We wont be long, really, Lucy pleaded, hands clasped.
Alright, one time is fine. Go on, enjoy yourselves. They say you can earn a decent sum looking after kids maybe even enough for a flat, Emma laughed, the room filling with tentative warmth.
Tom and Lucy left, the children staying with Emma and me. Nothing disastrous happened, though the young couple seemed more exhausted than usual. They felt a bit like heroes for not leaving friends in the lurch.
What started as a oneoff visit became a regular thing. Lucy began popping over almost weekly, asking to watch the children for hours, sometimes the whole day. My husband works up north, shed say. I need this help. No kids of your own yet, so practice, eh?
After the third request, I snapped. The nurserys closed. We have plans.
Lucy looked crestfallen, then brightened: Great! Hand us the keys. Well stay a week or two. Hotels are too dear, and my husband says my trips cost him a fortune.
No, that wont work. Were out for a day and then back. Where else would you go? I pressed.
Its only two rooms. We wont be a bother. Were practically family, she replied.
The tension rose. I argued with Emma, Did you hear what she said? Were moving furniture for them!
Emma retorted, Maybe shes stressedkids, moves, maybe PMS.
Im not stressed, Im being cheeky! Were not obliged to host them! I snapped. Call Tom, tell his wife to stop being pushy.
Sounds off, Emma warned.
Are they behaving well? I asked.
I shrugged, then called Tom. Lucy softened a bit, but later started texting me, asking me to check his phone, to see if he was seeing anyone else, to spy on him. When I finally refused, she kept bombarding me with long messages, voice notes, tearfilled pleas.
I hid the exchanges from Emma, deleting them, retreating to another room to talk. One evening, while I was on the phone, I caught a glimpse of a lengthy text from Lucy:
Go to his flat tomorrow. I think hes ignoring me. Im sure hes found someone. Check his phone if you can.
Emma burst out, What are you hiding? Is she a friend now? Are you spying on Tom?
Im not spying, I stammered. She just wont stop. I thought maybe I should help a friends wife.
Help? Shes using you as a errand boy, and you keep quiet. You cant say no, so now youre a pawn. Thats not right, Mark.
Im sorry. I should have told you and put an end to it, I admitted, deleting the messages and blocking her number.
After that, Lucy finally got through and I told her I wouldnt be part of her investigations any longer. She was angry, blamed Emma for ruining things, and warned shed tell Tom.
Only then did Tom learn of the messages from Emma. He was furious, confronting me one night:
Shes been on your case, hasnt she? Sorry shes been meddling. I thought distance would help, but it hasnt. Ill sort it out.
Two months passed. Lucy and Tom drifted out of our lives. Emma and I returned to our routine, took a short break, visited our parents, and ran into Lucy back in Sheffield. She walked past without a word; later we heard theyd split. Rumour had it Lucy found someone while Tom was in London, and his wife, in turn, was unfaithful. Its messy, but such things happen.
Looking back, I realise that opening your home is a noble thing, but it must be tempered with clear limits. I learned that generosity should never come at the expense of ones own peace.
