THE NEVER-ENDING CALLS

The calls would not stop. One after another, sometimes five in a row, all from the man next door who seemed determined to turn a new homeowner into the replacement for the woman who had died in the house before her.

The poster and her husband had bought and moved into the home after B died. Before that, the house had belonged to an elderly woman named B, who had been inseparable from two other elderly women, A and C. A had already died, and her adult son D inherited A's house next door. Then B died too. Now the poster lived in B's old house, C lived in the adjoining property, and D was next door in A's former home.

At first, C was friendly enough, but she had a habit of letting herself into the back garden through the gate. She would wander in and make pointed remarks about the former owner. She told the poster that B "would hate that you have a cat in her house" and that "she wouldn't like the colour you're doing the living room."

Then there was D. He is physically disabled and uses a wheelchair. His driveway adjoined theirs, and his broken-down car blocked his own drive. He also used the poster's driveway to get to his back door. Early on, his visitors began asking the poster to move her car on certain dates and times so his wheelchair could get through when the community ambulance arrived. She agreed without making a fuss. His visitors and carers also regularly parked on, or blocked, the driveway.

About a week after they moved in, D's carer asked the poster to come over so D could meet her and talk parking. The conversation quickly went much further. D described A, B, and C as friends, talked about being part of the "group that look out for each other," and heavily implied the poster would be taking B's place in "her" house. He talked about "how things work," and about doing things the way B had done them so everyone stayed happy. He also went into detail about his health, used a bed pan in view, mentioned CCTV watching his house and driveway, and said he might expand it to the poster's driveway. When she asked about his car, he offered no solution beyond not being sure what other workaround there was.

After that, he had her number.

Since then, the poster says he has not stopped calling. The calls come at all hours, often about ordinary things: a doctor trying different medications, a niece going on holiday, a bin collection they missed while away. If she does not answer, he rings again and again. It has become especially hard while she is working full time.

Before the couple went on holiday, they left enough room for D's wheelchair to pass. A friend in a large motorised wheelchair tested the space and found it fine. Even while they were away, D kept calling and leaving voicemails.

When they got home, he rang shortly after to invite them for a drink. She said no; it was late and they were tired.

Her husband, who had mostly left neighbour matters to her, saw how badly the calls were affecting her and said he would take over. He later phoned D about a letter that had been posted through their door. D said he was busy and would call back. He never did.

Then, on the day the husband went back to work, D called the poster as soon as she walked into the kitchen. He was not visible in his window, and he had not contacted the husband. Now she suspects his CCTV may be watching their kitchen window, and that he waited until she was alone.

She does feel sympathy. D seems lonely. But between the parking, the repeated calls, and the pressure to keep living according to B's old routine, she says she is exhausted. "I'm at my wits end," she wrote.