Family Secrets and a New Home
“Come down to the village with your husband!” Vera’s mother urged.
“We will, Mum, as soon as Lisa finishes her exams,” Vera replied, her voice tinged with exhaustion. “Owen wants to come too. He used to visit his family in the countryside every summer—until they passed. Now he won’t set foot there.”
“How can that be?” her mother asked, surprised. “He’s got brothers and sisters there.”
“He doesn’t like talking about it,” Vera murmured. “We visit the graves, but only for a day. He avoids the rest of the family. He helped them while they were alive, but after they were gone… something changed.”
“Vera, why do you take everything on yourself?” her mother scolded. “What kind of husband does that? He’s a strong man, and yet you coddle him. You need to look after yourself! The most he does is take out the bins.”
“Mum, we’ve been over this. I’m not carrying everything alone. We love each other, and he works hard.”
“It’s not about the money! He doesn’t lift a finger around the house!”
“What’s there to do? Our flat’s tiny. He comes home, flops on the sofa. Nothing else to manage.”
“When will you buy something bigger? Two small rooms—that’s hardly enough!”
“I don’t know,” Vera sighed. “We saved for years, but now… we’re reconsidering.”
Lisa was finishing school, planning for college. Next year would be her final exams. Vera missed the countryside. No matter how long she lived in the city, it never felt like home. Step outside, and all you’d hear were old women on benches, whispering about everyone. The village had gossips too, but there, at least, the air felt alive.
“You should visit,” her mother insisted again.
“We will, once Lisa’s done. Owen’s coming too. He hasn’t been back since his parents died—won’t even speak of it.”
“But he’s got family there. Their graves…”
“Don’t remind him, Mum. He visits, but quickly. No reunions. They all fell out.”
Owen had been the youngest in his family. Every holiday, he’d travel to his parents’ village near Norwich—fixing the roof, building a shed, buying tools for his father. His parents gave him money, but he often chipped in his own. When they passed, his brothers swooped in, taking anything valuable. “You don’t need these in the city,” they said, grabbing the tools. Even the old sideboard was emptied of keepsakes Owen had wanted.
All that remained was a tarnished set of silver-plated cutlery—dozens of spoons, forks, and knives in a dark wooden box. No one had cared for them. Owen brought them home, and Vera left them be. They were his parents’ last trace.
“What about the house?” her mother asked. “Surely it should’ve been divided?”
“No. A nephew moved in straightaway. There was a will. Owen didn’t argue, but it nearly came to blows. Now they’re neighbours who don’t speak.”
“And the cutlery? Still tarnished?”
“I polished it. Owen was over the moon—said he hadn’t seen them shine like that since he was a boy. Someone gifted them to his parents, but they never used them, just kept them safe…”
At his mother-in-law’s cottage, it was quiet and cosy. Owen walked the garden, noting what needed doing. No one nagged him—unlike his brothers, who’d bark orders but never lifted a finger.
“Vera, what if we fix the fence?” Owen asked that night. “Would your mum mind? We’ve got the savings—won’t need to ask her.”
“I’ll check,” Vera said.
“The summer kitchen needs work, too. And there’s more…”
“So no lounging on the sofa?” Vera teased.
“Not like the city. A place of your own—it’s different.”
Her mother was delighted when Owen started on the fence. She’d never expected it, figuring the old one would do. And when he began repairing the summer kitchen, she beamed.
“Why buy a house? You’ve got this one—close enough to town. I won’t be around much longer…”
“Mum, we’ve got Lisa. Work’s in the city.”
“She’s grown now—always buried in books. You could leave her alone if needed. Commuting’s easy. That new farmer pays well—greenhouses, tractors, the lot…”
“I don’t know. It’s a big change.”
“The house is big enough. I won’t get in your way. Besides, you’re all I’ve got. My niece only drops by for money.”
“For money?”
“Weeding the garden—not for free, mind. I didn’t ask, but I paid her. I don’t let her inside—she’d nick anything not nailed down. She even offered to become my carer, get paid for it! But I’m not helpless, nor that old. You visit enough. Shame Owen didn’t before. I take back what I said about him. No rush—just think on it.”
“Auntie, where’d you get this fence?” The niece, Katy, marched in. “You moaned your pension wasn’t enough! Too tight to pay me now?”
“Speak of the devil…” her mother muttered.
“I’ll handle this,” Vera cut in. “Hello, Katy. What’s all the shouting?”
“Nothing, it’s just—”
“‘Just’ nothing. We live here now. Don’t need your help.”
“Fine. Won’t bother you again,” Katy huffed, storming off.
A year later, Owen couldn’t wait to move. Lisa finished school, started college. They found jobs, bought a car. If it didn’t work out, they could always return—but no one thought of that. They moved in.
Vera’s mother suggested displaying the silver set in the sideboard. She’d cleared a space, moving her old china to the kitchen—worthless, just gathering dust.
She lived another twelve years. No one thought of wills—daughter and son-in-law were already home. Owen became a fixture—fixing, improving, tending.
When the time came to settle her estate, a will surfaced. Vera and Owen each got half the house. A note read: *Forgive me, love. This is fair. You share everything anyway. Life’s been hard enough on him. You understand.*
Owen was stunned. He’d never expected such kindness. In those years, they’d had a son. When Lisa announced her second pregnancy, they helped her family buy a place. They remembered how cramped their flat had been—hesitating even at one child.
Lisa’s family visits often now. They’ve no other kin. The silver set gleams in the sideboard—a memory of Owen’s parents, shining bright.
