Well, you must not know much about children these days!
Hello, Evelyn, I see youre busy in the garden, so I thought Id stop by to say hello, said Margaret, shuffling near the gate.
She and Evelyn lived on opposite ends of the village. Margaret and her husband, Victor, had their cottage near the river, while Evelyns home was closer to the woods.
Theyd never been particularly closethere were always plenty of neighbours aboutbut now, with all their own grandchildren grown, things had changed. This summer, Margarets son and his wife planned to send their two grandsons, Thomas and Henry, to stay for a whole month. The boys were tired of the city, they said.
For years, Margarets son had done well for himself, taking the family abroad on holidays. But times had turned, and suddenly, the old cottage by the river seemed just the place. Not just for a weekend visit, but a proper stay.
Only, Mum, they dont always get along, her son Nigel had warned. Thomas, at thirteen, fancies himself grown. Henry wont bow to him, so theyre forever bickering.
Oh, well manage, Margaret had declared brightly. But after hanging up, doubt crept in. Children werent the same these days. Theyd only ever had the boys for short visits when they were smallnow, what if she couldnt handle them?
Victor was a firm man, unused to disobedience. The last thing they needed was quarrels.
So Margaret decided to seek advice from Evelyn, who also had grandsons of a similar age visiting. She remembered from her own childrenkeeping them busy was half the battle.
Come in, Margaret! Evelyn called when she spotted her. What brings you by?
Well, the grandsons are coming for a month, and I thought yours might be about the same age? Itd be good for them to meet, make friends, keep each other occupied.
You mustnt know much about children these days! Evelyn laughed. Arent you nervous, having them so long? Mine wore me to shredsmy husband nearly sent them packing! But since youve agreed, bring them round. What else can we do? Theyre our grandsons, after all.
That weekend, Nigel arrived with his wife, Penelope, and the boys, Thomas and Henry.
Theyd grown taller, clearly pleased to see their grandparents. Margarets heart eased.
What had Evelyn been on about? Her grandsons might be unruly, but these two were polite, well-mannered, and bright. Nothing to worry over.
Mum, ring if theres trouble, Ill talk to them, Nigel said as they left. But Margaret waved him off. Oh, hush, son. Havent we raised children before?
That evening, Thomas and Henry took ages to settle. Theyd been given Nigels old room, but excitement kept them awake, chattering loudly. The racket annoyed Victor.
Why on earth did you agree to this, Margaret? Theyve no need for the village, yet here they are!
Come morning, the boys slept till nearly noon.
Gran, let us sleep, Thomas muttered when she roused them. Henry didnt stir at all.
How can anyone sleep so long? Margaret huffed.
Then she noticed something on the floor. Peering closer, she gasped.
Their phones lay discarded, screens cracked.
Have you been up all night on these? Thats itIm taking them!
Thomas shot upright.
Give it back! Its not yours! Mum lets us!
Then Ill call her and ask what she allows! Margaret snapped. Thomas sulked off, slamming the door behind him. Go on, then!
For hours, the boys refused to come out. Victor was ready to confront themwhat sort of protest was this on their first day? But when they emerged, both were scowling.
Were not eating porridge. We want nuggets or toasties.
Oh, is that so? Then go hungry, Victor barked. And have you made your beds? Lets see. Crisp packets? Sweet wrappers in the sheets? Not a thing tidied? Youll earn that porridgeclear this mess!
You cant starve us! Henry glowered. Youre mean!
Victor nearly lost his temper, but Margaret stepped in. Right, Ill show you how to make the beds. Tomorrow, youll do it yourselves. And toasties after porridgeagreed?
Youre soft on them, Margaret muttered Victor later. No shame, those two.
Thomas and Henry soon befriended Evelyns grandsons.
But the mischief they caused!
If they played in Margarets garden, shed later find sticks and trampled flowers strewn about. Mud trailed indoors, chairs wobbled from rough use, doors slammed so hard the hinges groaned.
What sort of children are these? Victor fumed. Never again, if they cant behave!
Yet he put Thomas to work fixing bicycles while Margaret taught Henry to help with lunch.
Youll earn your keep, Victor said firmly. Nothing in life comes free.
You werent an angel yourself, Margaret reminded him. I remember you well enough.
When the boys left, they complained to their parents: Grandad was awful! No phones, just work!
But a week later, Nigel rang, astonished.
Mum, Dadhowd you manage it? Henry can peel potatoes and vacuum! Thomas does his own washing, even cooks a bit. They make their beds now without being told.
Were we meant to wait on them? Margaret retorted. They sulked leaving, but who knows if theyll return?
Yet a year later, Thomas and Henry begged to come back, even turning down a holiday. The village held their friends now.
And there was something satisfying about eating Grans porridge, her pieseverything she madeknowing theyd earned it.
For when you work, youve something to be proud of. And that, it turned out, felt rather good.
