Well, what are you waiting for? Open the gate, were on the doorstep! My mother-in-laws voice sailed over everything, even drowning out the neighbours old lawnmower. Weve brought treats and good cheer, and youre locked up like its a fortress!
I was hunched over the strawberry bed, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my earth-smeared glove. I must have left a grubby streak across my face, but I hardly cared by then. My back ached traitorously as I straightened up and glanced towards the tall wooden fence.
This visit was definitely not on the cards today.
I looked over at my wife, Emily. She was by the shed, clutching a hammer, with a face just as stunned as mine. She shrugged apologetically, mouthing, I didnt invite them.
David! Came the voice again from the other side, tinged with the beginnings of offence. Have you nodded off? Your mothers come, your sisters here, and you lot are hiding away!
I took a deep breath, peeled off my gloves, and tossed them in the bucket. There went my plans for a productive weekend at my much-loved allotment. I nudged Emily no choice now, we had to let them in.
The gate groaned open and, glittering in the bright sun, a silver SUV rolled in. The in-laws debarked like they were landing on foreign soil. Mum first, of course Doris, larger-than-life, bubbly and loud, swanning in a flowery dress and a huge hat. Then my sister, Linda, in immaculate white shorts, freshly polished nails, and looking ready for a beach day. Bringing up the rear came Lindas husband Mark, yawning and blinking in the light.
They opened the boot and began unloading: bags of charcoal, crates of lager, and trays of marinated meat.
Oof, what a scorcher! Doris fanned herself with her hat. Emily, what a mucky sight! Weve come for a surprise. Phoned David, but he didnt answer, so I thought why not pop by! The weathers glorious, perfect for some barbecue and a bit of sun. Rivers not far, is it?
I stared at this sudden festival of cheer, feeling frustration rise within me. This allotment had belonged to my grandmother, and every inch had been revived with my own hard graft over the past three years. Emily had helped, of course, never with much relish but more out of duty than anything else. Her family, on the other hand, only ever turned up when there were ripe berries and a hammock waiting.
Hello, Doris, I tried to keep my tone even. Well, this is a surprise. We were actually working today.
All work and no play! Mark laughed, hauling out the beer. Weekends are for relaxing, mate. David, lets get that barbecue going, then!
Linda was already inspecting our patch.
Em, where are the deckchairs? I want to catch the sun. And is your raspberry ripe yet? Im starving.
Rapberries arent ready yet, Emily replied flatly. The chairs are in the shed. Might be a bit dusty.
David can fetch them and give them a wipe, cant he! Doris announced, striding to the veranda and plonking herself in my favourite wicker chair the one I bought specially for evening reading. Go on, Emily, freshen yourself up. The hostess shouldnt look like a farmhand. Set the table, were starving. Cut up some salad, bring those lovely cucumbers and herbs. The men will handle the meat.
Doris settled into her chair like it was a throne, surveying the garden.
The grass by the fence is wild, she observed. Bit unsightly. Ah well, David can mow it later.
I looked at Emily she shuffled uncomfortably and couldnt meet my gaze. She knew as well as I did that our plans were shot. We were meant to clear the far end for new beds, paint the fence, and dismantle the old greenhouse. The compost truck was due later. Now we were expected to play host to some impromptu holidaymakers.
Something clicked inside me, cold and clear.
David, Emily said quietly from the side. I approached her by the water butt.
Did you know they were coming? she whispered.
No! Honestly, Em! Mum just rang this morning, asked where we were I said wed be here. She didnt mention visiting! Can we just get through it? Grill the meat, sit down
Just get through it? She gave a short laugh. Last weekend we didnt come because your mum insisted we take her into town, and the one before your sister had a birthday. Were in the thick of growing season. If we dont finish today, my seedlings are finished and the fence will rot by autumn.
But Em
No buts. This is my allotment, my rules. They want to eat barbecue and lounge? Fine. Ive got honest work for them.
Emily marched toward the shed, and the scuffle of metal made the guests fall silent. In less than a minute, she emerged with an armful of tools: three spades, a rake, a hoe, and a tin of paint.
She thudded the lot down at Doriss feet.
Right, dear guests, her voice rang, steely since you came uninvited, lets combine the fun with the useful. Todays a work party.
A work party? Linda recoiled from the dirty spade. You must be joking. We came to relax!
I didnt sign up to be a chef and an entertainer, Emily shot back. I planned on working, and if you want to stay, help out. No work, no food old English saying, by the way.
Doris froze, mid-bite into an apple nicked straight off the table.
Emily! Have you lost your mind? Were the guests here! We came to see David, and youre making me work? David, do something your wifes gone off the deep end, bullying your own mother!
I stepped up beside Emily, but waited a moment.
Doris, she carried on, lets drop the theatrics. This is my allotment, inherited from my Nan, and you know it. Im in charge here. David lends a hand because were a team. You lot show up for picnics when its all done. Want a barbecue? Lovely. Heres your station.
She began dispatching tools, unperturbed by their grumbles.
Mark, she handed him the biggest spade. The tough bit along the fence is yours. Its heavy clay, needs real muscle. No digging, no barbecue.
Mark nearly choked on his beer.
Youre serious? Im on holiday bad back and all
Diggings the best therapy for a dodgy back. The spades ergonomic. Linda! she spun to my sister Youre on rake duty. Clear all the cut grass behind the shed and weed the carrots. You wanted a tan, right? Nothing like sunshine on your back.
I cant! Linda cried. My manicure! I paid a fortune for it yesterday! Mum, say something!
Doris inflated like a thundercloud.
Enough. David, put those things away now. Were cooking lunch, and she jabbing a finger at Emily better show us some basic decency. How dare you make the family work on your estate were just here for a visit!
Doris, last week you bragged about three hours at Zumba class, Emily retorted. Youre fit as a fiddle. For you, Ive got the daintiest job: painting the picket fence by the flower bed. No smell, brand new brush have at it.
Were leaving! Doris flared. Mark, get our things! We wont set foot in this place again! David, look at your wife a tyrant, turning away your own mother!
Emily calmly folded her arms.
Im not asking anyone to leave. Just offering a fair bargain: you help, I host. If you dont want to work, fine. But I wont be your maid while you lounge here Ive got a schedule to keep.
David! Doris wailed. Are you a man or a doormat?
I looked at her flushed red face, at Lindas sulky pout and Marks reluctant search for a spot to rest his beer. Then I turned to Emily tired, shirt streaked with earth, but more familiar and determined than ever. I remembered her late nights drawing up planting plans, her delight at every seedling, her dreams of a new greenhouse.
Mum, I said quietly. Emilys right.
What? all three exclaimed in chorus.
Emilys right, I repeated, firmer now. This is her allotment. We have work to do here, I promised to help. If you want to really relax, theres a holiday park five miles down the road. Chalets, sun-loungers, a cook. Here, though, weve got jobs.
The silence that followed was almost comic; only a bumblebee buzzing around the peonies could be heard. Doris looked stricken, struggling for words. My stand must have hurt her more than any spade.
Well, really she finally spat out. Thank you for your hospitality. Mark! Hurry up, lets get out. No point breathing this rarefied air with these upstarts.
They packed furiously. Mark loaded the beer with a sigh. Linda stomped theatrically to the car. Doris shot Emily a glare worthy of Lady Macbeth before slamming the door.
Youll regret this! she cried. Dont come begging when you need something!
The SUV charged off, spitting dust as it left.
Emily and I remained in the silent yard. There was a certain peace to it now. Emily sagged onto the veranda steps, utterly spent.
I dropped down next to her and squeezed her hand. Her palm was hot and a bit clammy.
You alright? I asked.
Ill live, she puffed out, thought one of them might throttle me or curse me forever.
Oh, Mum probably has, I chuckled. Shell forget about it when she needs a favour. Linda will sulk for ages, though.
Ill survive, she rested her head on my shoulder. Thanks for backing me up. I figured youd well, keep quiet.
Keep quiet, as usual? I sighed. Enoughs enough. I looked at them today didnt even ask how we were, just barged in expecting everything. And you slave away here. Feels wrong. This is your space you know every blade of grass.
Emily smiled.
Ours, David. If youre in for the graft, and not just the barbecue.
I am, I promised, glancing at the abandoned spade. Speaking of which, Mark left his spade behind. Best crack on with that digging, then.
I got up, grabbed the spade and headed to the fence. Emily watched with a warmth in her eyes. For the first time, it felt like we were a real team. Not just cohabiting, but a partnership that would defend our boundaries together.
She rose and dusted herself off. The sun was still high, and there was much to do but suddenly, it felt more manageable.
An hour later, when I had finished the hardest patch, sweaty but triumphant, Emily arrived with a pitcher of cold homemade lemonade.
Break time, she declared.
We sat out on the veranda, where only a couple of hours ago, chaos reigned.
You know, I mused, taking a long drink, they never did understand.
Understand what?
It wasnt the work. If theyd just said, How can we help? wed probably have let them relax after an hour anyway. Its the attitude
Its about respect, Dave. You cant come barreling into someones home and act like you own the place. And you cant treat other peoples efforts as yours by right.
My phone pinged.
Its Mum, I grimaced as I opened the message. At the holiday park. Rooms are dear, foods rubbish. You lot have no shame.
Emily burst out laughing.
Well, at least theyre getting their rest. No spades or rakes in sight.
Or our barbecue, I added. Do we still have any meat?
They took it all. But weve got baby potatoes, fresh dill and smoked mackerel. And peace.
Evening shimmered over the allotments. The grasshoppers sang, a dog barked in the distance. Emily and I finished painting the fence by dusk. We sat, happy but knackered, eating boiled spuds and a bit of herring food better than any restaurant could offer.
You know, Emily said, dunking some bread in fragrant rapeseed oil, this turned out to be a useful lesson.
For them?
For all of us. We learned to say no, and it wasnt nearly as terrifying as it seemed.
Terrifying enough, I admitted. But the results worth the nerves. Em how about next weekend we actually dont let anyone visit? Just the two of us. And no spades. Just, well, stay.
Deal, she grinned. Still, we do need to get that greenhouse pulled down.
At that moment, a car engine rumbled outside. Emily tensed, fork poised mid-air. Were they back? I crept to the window, twitching the curtain.
False alarm, I reported. Thats just Mr Jenkins next door.
Emily giggled, all the tension dissolving. Today had shown me that my wife had real backbone. Our allotment truly was our fortress; its walls could withstand even the rudest family onslaught.
But that wasnt quite the end of it. The following Wednesday, in our London flat, the doorbell rang. There stood Doris, hatless, without Linda, clutching a small carrier bag and looking uncharacteristically sheepish.
May I come in? she asked, pausing at the threshold.
Emily, surprised, made room for her.
Come through.
Doris shuffled to the kitchen, perched on the edge of a chair, and deposited the bag on the table.
Brought you some pasties. My own baking.
Spotting the commotion, I came through.
Hi, Mum. Is something up?
Yes, she sighed, Ive felt terribly guilty all week. My neighbour Jean told me how her daughter-in-law threw her out for bossing her around, and I thought maybe I did the same. You two are always working hard. The allotment looks amazing, not like when the old girl had it.
She paused, fiddling with the bags handles.
So, forgive a silly old woman, will you. Im used to David being a boy who always listened to his mum. But hes grown. And his wife well, shes strong-willed. Thats a good thing, you need backbone these days.
Emily exchanged glances with me. Neither of us expected an apology.
Dont worry about it, Doris, Emily said softly, putting the kettle on. Let bygones be bygones. Just remember, we have our own lives and plans.
I get it now, Doris nodded. Next time Ill call first. Wont barge in or interfere. Lindas still sulking, by the way. Says shed have ruined her manicure if she stayed. Well, the young will learn in time.
We spent a long evening over tea and pasties. The conversation was awkward, but friendly enough things began to thaw. The boundaries wed defended so fiercely hadnt broken our family; rather, theyd made it healthier. The respect won with a spade proved sturdier than all the silent endurance in the world.
Now the spades hang up where everyone can see them, a reminder that honest work shapes people and makes pushy guests into considerate relatives. And when next month the family rang up to ask, politely, whether they could visit and if there was anything they could do to help Emily and I both knew: wed held the line, and it had been worth it.
Looking back, Ive learned that learning to say no can be as much an act of care as agreeing to yes. When you draw fair boundaries, you dont just protect your peace you teach others to value it too.
