You only tell parsley from dill by the label on the packet, and youve only ever seen berries in jam! grumbled Mrs. Jenkins, our irate nextdoor neighbour.
Victoria and I had driven up to our little cottage in the Cotswolds. Wed bought it last autumn, and now, with the leaves turning, we were finally ready to put it in order. The house itself was charming the sort you could live in even when snow fell but the garden and the outbuildings needed a great deal of work.
The overgrown orchard had to be turned into something resembling a picturepostcard. Wed already ordered a brandnew sauna; a delivery crew would bring it in a week and install it, we only needed to decide where to set it. While we were at it, wed also put up a clothesdrying shelter beside the sauna, a woodstore, and a small summer pergola. The kids had promised to come over and lend a hand with everything.
Its quiet here, we could live out here all year. Were retirees now, Victoria said.
Ive inspected the cellar; all we need there is a new door.
Ive looked over the back veranda. Remember our talk about a pergola? It isnt necessary. The veranda already has a large round table and a set of vintage chairs.
Well just restore those chairs; theyll last another hundred years. From there well have a view over the garden, sip tea and enjoy the scenery. The front door also needs replacing it feels as if someones been in the house this winter, or perhaps just recently.
Exactly. The doors are priority. Well do everything at the back, out of sight from the road, yet still beautiful. In front of the house well create a little lawn with flowerbeds.
The perennials are already there; we only have to decide which to keep and where to plant them. Some may need moving, but well leave that till next summer.
A week later the sauna arrived, and the children showed up. Work on the plot began in earnest. Mrs. Jenkins popped over for a look; her grandchildren were darting around the cottage yard.
Do you have grandchildren? she asked.
Yes, theyll be visiting soon.
Why are you putting up such a high fence? We neighbours have always managed without any fences.
Without fences? What then was there before? We just tore the old one down it had collapsed. It didnt matter to you, but we like things tidy. Dont worry, we havent taken any extra metres of land. The fence sits right on the property line.
No gate? Weve always had a way through.
You mean a gate between our gardens? No, that wasnt planned. Access is only from the road.
What about the children, yours and ours? I saw you cut down the apple trees; the kids loved crawling over them.
We didnt cut them down, just pruned and cleared them, and we planted new saplings. Let your grandchildren crawl over your own apple trees.
Everythings new with you lot. Why plant shrubs along our fence?
For a neat look, thats why!
Mrs. Jenkins left, but she kept coming back with more questions. Her grandchildren kept racing across Victorias and my garden until we finally installed a new gate.
Youve settled in nicely, she said again. Will you be staying here through the winter?
Time will tell.
Why shut the gate? The kids used to kick a ball right out in front of the house, it was convenient and level. The road is busy, but this spot is safe.
My garden beds are already full, unlike yours. You only recognise parsley by the shop label and have only ever eaten berries in jam. Youd better be friendly with me.
The gates closed to keep strangers out, and to stop your grandchildren from taking over. Two days ago they let our hens out, and we still havent found any of them.
You keep chickens too? So youre really moving in?
We already are.
At the end of August we celebrated Charless birthday. The children arrived, as did the grandchildren. The whole family gathered on the veranda. Men grilled steaks, women tossed salads, and the table was set with a fine spread.
Here we are, dropping by to say hello, neighbourstyle, if you will. We always pop in unannounced. After all, were neighbours. The kids know the routine by heart.
Youre getting ready, the guests have arrived, so its a proper celebration. Lets sit down; the children will have more fun together, and its high time we became friends.
So we didnt actually invite you? Its just a family affair. Our relationship is neighbourly, not familial.
Perhaps one day it will change. The kids will grow up. Maybe well even become relatives, Mrs. Jenkins replied cheerfully.
She kept rehashing everything, never quite leaving. Her grandchildren were everywhere, shaking the apple and pear trees, climbing on the sauna roof thank heavens they didnt tumble. Later they were fascinated by the decorative stones surrounding the outbuildings and began tossing them into an inflatable pool. Nobody noticed at first. The children shrieked with delight as water burst from the pool.
Autumns almost here, time to pack the pool away, Mrs. Jenkins said. The kids have had enough fun.
Youre heading home now!
We havent even sat down yet, the kids are starving. Lets all get to the table!
The party was a bit ruffled, but another one loomed. A week later the children returned for the celebration of Victorias and my 35th wedding anniversary.
Someone had the bright idea to lock the gate. As it turned out, the mastermind was our youngest guest his sevenyearold grandson.
A knock sounded on the gate. We pretended nothing was amiss while the smell of grilled kebabs and fresh herbs filled the air. The evening grew cool.
When will you be back in town?
Well see. Autumn is coming, well harvest, then well decide. The apple crop this year is superb. We like everything here, except perhaps Mrs. Jenkins, but she isnt a real obstacle. Weve learned how to cope with her.
We all laughed together.
The guests eventually drifted home, leaving Victoria and me alone. Autumn lay ahead, then winter Wed give it a go. And if it didnt work out, we could always return to our flat in London.
Mrs. Jenkins eventually drove off. It turned out she had to get her grandchildren to school. Her daughter was struggling, and the grandmother would help out. Charles and I sighed in relief. God bless us with such relentless neighbours, I muttered.
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