“Come on, love, will you open that gate? Guests are waiting!” Barbaras voice, sharp and clear, sliced through even the drone of the neighbours lawnmower. “Weve brought treats, were in a good mood, but youre locked up tighter than Fort Knox!”
Ellie froze halfway through weeding the strawberry patch, wiping the sweat from her brow with a dirt-caked glove. The black streak left on her cheek didnt matter to her right now. Sighing, she straightened, feeling her back protest, and glanced at the tall iron fence.
This visit was absolutely not on the agenda.
She looked at her husband, Tom. He was standing by the shed with a hammer, looking just as lost. He shrugged helplessly, mouthing, “Wasnt me.”
“Thomas! Did you fall asleep out there or what? Your mums here, your sisters here, and youre hiding!” Barbara hollered, now sounding slightly offended.
Ellie exhaled deeply, pulled off her gloves, and tossed them into the bucket. There went her lovely, hard-working weekend. She nodded to Tom: go on then, open up.
The gate swung open, and a shiny silver estate car slid into the drive like a cruise ship docking. Out tumbled the relatives like an overzealous landing party. First, of course, was Barbaraa large, boisterous woman in a loud floral dress and a broad-brimmed hat. Next came his sister, Jenny, all white shorts and a new manicure on display. Bringing up the rear was Jennys husband, Dave, stretching luxuriously and squinting at the sun.
From the boot came coal, cases of lager, and tubs of pre-marinated meat for a barbecue.
“Oof, its roasting out!” Barbara fanned herself with her hat. “Ellie, you look a right state! We thought wed surprise you. I was ringing Tom, but he didnt pick up. Thought, Lets swing by, gorgeous day for itsome sunbathing, maybe a barbecue. The rivers not far, is it?”
Ellie silently took in the spectacle, her annoyance growing. This cottage had been her inheritance from her Nanthe one patch of earth that felt truly hers. Since marrying Tom, shed put all her spare money and energy into resurrecting it from neglect. Tom helped, though more out of obligation than passion. His family only showed up when the fruit was ripe and the hammock was tempting.
“Hello, Barbara,” Ellie kept her voice steady. “Ill admit, that is a surprise. Were a bit busy today.”
“Works not going anywhere!” Dave laughed, hauling his beer towards the house. “Weekends are for relaxing! Tom, get that barbecue out, lets get this party started!”
Jenny was already surveying the garden: “Ellie, where are the loungers? I wanted to sunbathe. And is that raspberry crop ready? Can I have some?”
“Theyre still green,” Ellie replied flatly. “The loungers are in the shed. Dusty.”
“Tom will get them out and wipe them down,” Barbara announced, marching right to the veranda. “Ellie, go wash your face and tidy up a bit. A host shouldnt look like a farmhand. Lay the table, would you? Just something lightbit of salad, fresh cucumbers, herbs. Let the men do the meat.”
Barbara plonked herself into the wicker armchair Ellie had purchased for evening reads, surveying the plot with a critical eye.
“You ought to get that grass cut by the fence,” she commented. “Looks messy. Oh well, Tom can do it later.”
Ellie glanced at Tom. He was shifting awkwardly, staring steadfastly at the ground. Their weekend had been planned to the minute: dig over the far patch for new veg, repaint the fence, clear out the old greenhouse. Over an evening, theyd had compost delivered specially. Now she was supposed to drop everything and wait on guests who thought of her garden as a free spa.
Something snapped. Calm, not angry.
“Tom,” she called. He jumped. “A word, please.”
They walked over to the well.
“Did you know theyd turn up?” Ellie asked quietly.
“No! Honestly, Ellie!” Tom hissed, eyeing his mother. “She called this morning asking what we were up to. I just said we were here at the cottage. Didnt mention coming over! But we cant send them away… family and all… Cant we just bear it, have a bit of a barbecue?”
“Bear it?” Ellie half-laughed. “Last weekend we were running round after your mum at the shops. The one before that, it was Jennys birthday. Its prime time for the garden. If we dont get todays jobs done, I lose half my seedlings and the fence rots through by autumn.”
“But El”
“No more but, El. This is my cottage. My rules. They want to eat and have a country retreat? Fantastic. Hard works good for the soul.”
Ellie strode to the shed. The clang of metal fell like a warning bell over the verandah crowd. In a minute, she returned with three spades, a rake, a hoe, and a tin of paint.
She dropped the lot with a crash at their feet.
“Right then, since youre here uninvited, were combining business with pleasure. Today is work day.”
“What do you mean, work day?” Jenny recoiled from the nearest spade. “You must be joking. We came to relax!”
“Im not your entertainer or your chef,” Ellie retorted. “I planned to crack on with jobs. Youre welcome to stay if you lend a hand. If you dont work, you dont eat. Age-old wisdom.”
Barbara, halfway through an apple shed nabbed off the table, paused with her mouth open.
“Ellie! Dont you talk to us like that! Were your guests! Tom, are you going to let her boss your own mother around?”
Tom came and stood by Ellie, but for once didnt defend his mum.
“Barbara,” Ellie pressed on, “lets skip the dramatics. The deeds in my name, passed down from my grandmother before Tom and I even met. Toms helping as family does. You pop round at the first whiff of a barbecue. You want one? Fine. Here are the jobs.”
Oblivious to their grumbles, Ellie began passing out tools.
“Dave,” she tossed a spade to her brother-in-law clutching his beer, “that strip alongside the fenceheavy clay. Youre on it. No digging, no barbecue.”
Dave spluttered on his lager. “What? Im on holiday! My back cant take that!”
“Keep moving, itll sort your back right out. Jenny!” The sister shrank into the armchair. “You get the rake. Clear all the grass out back and dump it in the compost. Pull the weeds round the carrots tooyou said you wanted a tan? Sun on your backll do wonders.”
“No chance!” Jenny squealed. “Ive just paid eighty quid for these nails! Mumsay something!”
Barbara stood to her full height, glowering menacingly.
“Thats enough of this. Tom, move these tools. Well be having something to eat, and Ellie, if you dont want us, spit it out! But making your old mum work? Cheek!”
“You managed three hours at Zumba last week, Barbara,” Ellie shot back. “Painting the fence near the flowerbed is a doddle in comparison. The paints odourless, new brushoff you go.”
“Were leaving!” Barbara roared. “Dave, grab the bags! Ill never set foot here again! Tom, just look at the woman you marriedthrowing out your own mother!”
Ellie crossed her arms.
“Im not throwing anyone out. Just offering a fair exchange. Help out, and Ill host. If notlet me get on with my day. Ive got a schedule.”
“Tom!” Barbara wailed. “Are you a man or a doormat?”
Tom looked at his flushed mother, his sulky sister, Dave eyeing where to put his drinks. Then he looked at Elliefilthy T-shirt, exhausted, but determined and his own. He remembered her drawing planting plans, her delight at the first shoots, her dreams of a new greenhouse.
“You know what, Mum?” he said quietly. “Ellies right.”
“What?!” was the collective cry.
“Shes right,” Tom repeated, stronger. “This is her place. We came here to work. I promised Id help. Youve just turned up out of nowhere. If you want to relax, theres a holiday camp five miles down the road, with deckchairs and staff. Weve got things to do.”
A heavy silence fell, broken only by bees among the peonies. Barbara gasped, speechless at her sons betrayal.
“Well!” she hissed at last. “Thank you, son. Good for you. Dave! Jenny! Were off. Cant even breathe the air round here with these little tyrants.”
They packed in a flurry of indignation. Dave regretfully loaded his lager. Jenny stomped to the car. Before slamming the door, Barbara granted Ellie a look that could curdle milk.
“Youll be sorry!” she shouted. “When you need a favour, dont call!”
The estate car took off, flinging dust over the gates.
Ellie and Tom stood in the quiet. It never sounded sweeter. As the tension left her shoulders, Ellies legs went weak and she plonked herself on the veranda steps.
Tom sat beside her, holding her hand, warm and a bit sweaty.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Ill live,” Ellie exhaled. “Thought they might throttle me. Or put a curse on the cottage.”
“Well, if shes cursed you, itll wear off,” Tom grinned. “She always comes round. Jennyshell sulk for ages.”
“Ill manage,” Ellie rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for standing up for us. I thought youd… you know…”
“Keep quiet, like usual?” Tom sighed. “I finally thoughtenough. They didnt even ask how we were, just started demanding. And you work so hard here. It actually is your home. You know every blade of grass.”
Ellie smiled.
“Its ours, Tom. If you put in the effortnot just eat the barbecue.”
“Im in,” he said earnestly. “Actually, Dave left the spade. Ill get on that clay patch. You said it was important.”
He got up, seized the spade, and made for the fence. Ellie watched him, warmth in her chest. For the first time, she truly felt they were a team, protecting their patch.
She stood and brushed herself off. The sun still high, jobs to do, but the work felt like freedom now.
An hour later, when Tom, drenched in sweat but proud, was finishing the digging, Ellie brought out cold homemade lemonade.
“Break time,” she declared.
They sat where tempers had flown not so long ago.
“You know,” Tom said, swigging his drink, “they still dont get it.”
“Doesnt get what?”
“Its not the jobs. If theyd said, Can we help? wed have let them relax in no time. But coming in all bossy…”
“Its about respect, Tom. You cant barge into someone elses place and act like you own it. You cant take someones work for granted.”
Toms phone pinged. He grimaced. “Mum. At the holiday park. Rooms expensive, foods awful. No conscience, the pair of you.”
Ellie burst out laughing.
“Well, theyre relaxing like they wanted. No spades, no rakes.”
“And none of our barbecue,” Tom added. “Any meat left?”
“Theyve taken it. But weve got new potatoes, dill, and some pickled herring. Andmost of allpeace and quiet.”
Evening fell soft as a sigh over the little village. Crickets sang, a dog barked far off. Ellie and Tom finished the fence painting by dusk, spattered with paint, knackered, happy. Boiled potatoes and bread never tasted so wonderful.
“You know,” Ellie mused, dipping her bread in golden oil, “that was a lesson well learned.”
“For them?”
“For all of us. We learned to say no. Turns out, its not so scary.”
“It is scary,” Tom admitted. “But worth it. Tell you what, Ellienext weekend, lets lock the gates. Just us. No spades. Promise.”
“Deal,” Ellie grinned. “Except, greenhouse does need sorting”
At that moment, a car pulled up outside. Ellie tensed, fork in midair. Surely not back already? Tom went to the window and peeked.
“Phew,” he sighed. “Next doorold Mr. Peterson.”
Ellie laughed, relaxing for good. Today had proved that her husband had her back, and this cottage was their fortress, strong enough to withstand even the most thoughtless family.
But the tale wasnt quite finished. A week later, Wednesday evening, back at their city flat, the doorbell rang. On the threshold stood Barbara. No hat, no Jenny, just a modest shopping bag. She looked awkward.
“May I?” she asked, waiting on the mat.
Ellie raised an eyebrow but stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Barbara sat at the kitchen table, bit stiff, bag on her lap.
“Ive brought some pasties. Cabbage ones. Made them myself.”
Tom, emerging from the lounge, froze. “Alright, Mum. Everything okay?”
Barbara sighed. “Ive been thinking, darling. Felt so ashamed. All week Ive not settled. My friend Maureen told me her daughter-in-law threw her out for interfering. And I realisedIm just the same. Showed up and started bossing you about. But youre working hard, and the cottage… Ellies done wonders with it, not like your gran ever did.”
She fiddled with her bag strap.
“So, Im sorry. Im set in my ways, used to you being my boy, always doing as I ask. But youre grown now. Youve got yourself a wife with backbone. That matters these days.”
Ellie and Tom exchanged glances. She hadnt expected an apologyjust another row, maybe a snide comment.
“Oh, Barbara, dont worry,” Ellie said, flicking the kettle on. “No hard feelings. We just want our weekends to ourselves every now and then, thats all.”
“I get it now, I do,” Barbara nodded. “No more popping by unannounced. And I wont insist on anything. Well, maybe not get stuck in with advice unless asked! Jennys sulking, but well, young people will be young. Shell learn, I suppose.”
They drank tea and ate pasties; the conversation was stilted but thawing. The boundaries Ellie had drawn that chaotic Saturday hadnt destroyed the familyif anything, theyd made it healthier. Respect earned with a spade in hand, it turned out, lasted longer than forced politeness or simmering grudge.
And the spades now had pride of place at the cottageas a reminder that hard work can turn even the cheekiest guests into polite relatives. A month later, when the family called ahead, asking “What can we help with?”, Ellie knew shed won.
If you enjoyed this story, do follow for more tales from life, and let us know in the commentshow would you deal with uninvited guests at your cottage?
