George, are you joking?
George, are you joking? Back to your mother again? What do you suggest, toss her out into the cold, without light or water? the man snapped, rummaging through his rucksack. Would you do that to your own parents?
You see, my parents wouldnt treat me that way. They know I have a family, and they never drag me into such adventures. And your mother Poppy began.
Spare me. You know I have to help, George cut her off with a wave.
I get that. Still, it hurts. Not because the boys will soon forget their fathers name, but because you dont even try to make her independent.
She brewed that porridge herself let her stir it herself. And you decide where your family belongs: out in the village, or here.
Poppy turned and headed for the bedroom. Half a minute later the hallway door clicked shut. George left. She was left alone with the children, who that morning shed promised a family walk in the park.
Meanwhile their father had once again slipped from the household, and the blame fell squarely on Poppy.
Two years earlier things had been different. Poppy remembered that day vividly. Theyd driven to her parents cottage, taking Margaret Whitfield along so she wouldnt be lonely. Margaret got on well with the inlaws, so nobody objected.
While they sipped tea and nibbled biscuits beneath a grapevine arbor, Margarets mind sparked a brilliant notion that would upend Poppys life.
Oh, how lovely it is here! she breathed in deeply. I should move into a private house myself. At my age, peace and fresh air
Poppys mother merely smiled. At first she thought Margaret was just daydreaming aloud.
Its nice to be a guest, the matchmaker snapped. But a house without a husband is nothing but work. This isnt a holiday; theres always something to fix. And Margaret, forgive me, youre not cut out for housekeeping.
Margaret pursed her lips, though there was no real offense. She wasnt lazy, but she lingered in a state of chronic fatigue even when she did nothing.
Im not going to run a farm or tend greenhouses. You have chickens and pigs; Ill be content with flowers and trees.
Just sit in the shade and admire the beauty. The grandchildren will love it. Ill buy them an inflatable pool; theyll splash on the grass, not breathe diesel fumes.
Flowers and trees also need care. You tumble around the flat, yet theres nothing to do. Dust once a week, mop the floor every two days, vacuum, then lie down and rest, Poppys mother suggested indulgently.
You think we keep a farm out of love for labour? the inlaw scoffed. In words it sounds noble, but in reality a house is a bottomless barrel.
Today the boiler blew, tomorrow the roof, the day after the fence. Moneys needed for everything. Thats why were always scrimping.
No matter, well manage. Im not alone, Margaret replied stubbornly, glancing at George.
Poppy raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. Influencing the motherinlaw was harder than convincing a hungry goose not to eat cabbage.
That day Margaret stopped arguing with the inlaws, only smiling enigmatically like the MonaLisa. Six months later she proudly showed off her new home, inhaling the odd perfume of roses from the neighbours garden. The house was indeed comfortable.
See? You didnt believe me. Im now in your town not a foot out of it! she declared confidently.
But happiness was fleeting. First Margaret asked her son to help with cosmetic repairs. He lingered for six months, because George only came on weekends.
Poppy grumbled but endured. She trusted the renovation would finish and life would return to its former stream.
When the paint on the fence dried and fresh wallpaper lined the walls, the todo list only grew.
First the electricity went off for almost two days. The house lost not just light but water. George drove to his mothers, who was in despair, bearing bottled water and a sack of sandbags to calm her.
Everythings broken! No airconditioning, no shower Its a nightmare! Im surviving, not living, Margaret lamented.
Later the motherinlaw took in a stray dog, a shaggy mutt she named Buster, as if for a season. It turned out Buster had kidney trouble. No vet existed in the village, so they had to cart him to the city of course, George did the driving.
What can we do, the boys ill at least we have a guard in the house, Margaret muttered, soothing the animal.
Soon Poppy had to wash the car because the guard rattled the vehicle violently. And that wasnt all. Buster needed special food, but the village had no pet shops or delivery. George became the courier.
I wont abandon my mother with a sick creature! You know how pitiful she is. Then shell blame herself, he told his wife when she began to scold him.
Right, pitiful. We feel sorry for the dog, but not so much for people
George devoted his weekends to his mother, occasionally slipping in after work on weekdays. Once he even spent a night at the motherinlaws.
Ill be back soon; youll already be asleep, he justified. That way Ill rise early and drive straight to work.
Poppy waited for the pressure to lift, but it never did. The motherinlaws roof leaked, the septic tank clogged, snow fell, grass grew She refused outright to tend the house herself, unable even to call a tradesperson.
What if its fraudsters? Thieves? Theyll strip three more skins George, youre a man, yet men are feared. Please help me find someone honest and stay present, Margaret pleaded.
Poppys patience snapped when the lights went out again, this time late autumn. Luckily it lasted only a short while, but enough to send Margaret into a panic.
Poppy, tomorrow Ill buy a generator for mum, George said in a matteroffact tone.
Poppy tensed.
From our pocket? she asked, squinting, aware it wasnt cheap.
Well you know Mums under strain. Shes spent almost everything left after selling the flat, and lives on a single pension, George shrugged.
Brilliant. So were now funding not just ourselves but her dream house too. George, isnt your mother a bit greedy?
He grimaced and waved his hand.
Poppy, stop. Their lights are already a miracle. Do you want her to freeze?
Poppy rolled her eyes, yet again forced herself to swallow the bitterness.
Now she sat alone in their bedroom, mulling over separation. Were living decently, arent we No, divorce is too extreme. We need another plan, lest we go mad from exhaustion, she thought.
And she devised a plan
A week later Poppy rose early, dressed quietly, and was about to leave when George stirred sleepily.
Youre up already? he rubbed his eyes and yawned.
To my parents, she answered calmly, looking at herself in the mirror.
What do you mean? George frowned. Today? I promised Mum Id prune the hedges.
You never consulted me. I have my own parents, and they need help too.
But you have two!
No one cancelled old age. From now on well split weekends: one for your mum, one for mine, Poppy said, stepping toward the corridor and pausing.
Ah, right. The list of chores is on the fridge. Dont forget the kids homework. And make them pizza for lunch, they asked.
She left, feeling her husbands heavy gaze behind her, but never turned back. On the way to her parents she caught herself thinking she never truly rushed to urgent tasks.
The help she offered was symbolic. Poppy spent the afternoon on the upstairs landing, then rested.
She read a book while rocking on the garden swing, recalled funny childhood lunches, and lounged lazily on the bed. Shed forgotten what normal eating felt like, no longer gulping food under an endless mama!.
Perhaps there will never be a perfect solution. Maybe Margaret will never sell the house nor solve the problems without her sons aid.
But now Poppy will have a slice of personal space she wont surrender a small victory in the battle for fairness and her own sanity.
