My mother has a house on the outskirts of Oxford. Every summer, at her suggestion, we head out there: repairing bits and bobs, digging in the garden. Only recently, my husband erected a swimming pool out back. Theres even a snug little gazebo. Ever since my brother got married, though, he hasnt set foot there. His wife put her foot down. Thats how things stood, according to Charlotte, his wife from now on, his allegiance lies with her and their family, and whatever interests they have take precedence over the rest of us. If Mum needs something, she should just hire someone.
Mum never holds it against her, always tries to see the best in people. This year, Mum worked herself to exhaustion and wasnt able to make it out to the cottage over summer. She couldnt go, but she worried herself sick about the patch of earth, since nobody was tending to it.
Mum asked my brother to plant something, but Charlotte soon talked him out of it and he refused. Me and my husband thought itd do us good to get some fresh country air. After all, you can escape to the countryside at the weekend. And Mum would be far more at peace.
We bought saplings and seedlings, cleared the beds before planting, revived the flower borders and looked after the greenhouse. Sunday was for rest. And we followed Mums instructions word for word, lest she fret.
Last weekend, my husband and I visited his parents, so the cottage stood empty. But, as it turned out, my brother and Charlotte had turned up.
When we arrived at the cottage the following weekend, we found ourselves unpleasantly surprised. Someone was living there. We knocked at the door, but nobody answered. Charlotte peered out the window and said coldly:
Weve decided to rent our flat so we can save up for a holiday, and well live here ourselves instead. So you can just run along we never invited you.
Does Mum know? I asked. Of course she knows! Where else do you think I got the keys? Charlotte replied.
I rang Mum. Yes, I handed your brother the keys. He said hed go over to help you, she said. Mum, theyre living here. Theyre not helping us. Charlotte sits around and wont even let us in.
What do you mean, living there? Mum sounded shocked. Thats what I mean. They decided to let their flat and save for a holiday. So theyve moved themselves into the bungalow. I told her the truth.
Well, if theyre tending the garden watering, pulling up weeds let them stay. If not, throw them out, dont let them cheat you. Theyre ever so sly, always looking to get the best for nothing! Theyll turn up come autumn and take apples and potatoes without lifting a finger. Tell them its their turn to look after the cottage. Mum made up her mind. I knocked again. What do you want now? Charlotte snapped.
I told her what Mum had decided. Charlotte scoffed, Im not doing a thing here. Ive got my nails done! What am I, your servant? And even if I did raise anything, what makes you think wed share? If you want any, you can buy your own. Whatevers here belongs to us. Of course, well have to throw them out. They wouldnt listen, so Mum had to call them herself. She told them to leave. Where are we meant to go? Someones in our flat! my brother yelled. Give them the money, I suggested.
That wont work. I spent it all on Charlottes earrings, my brother said. No point in taking them to a pawn shop. They wont be worth even half. So what are we supposed to do? Look, its not my business. You really ought to let Mum know about your plans before you go bulldozing in. You cant just waltz in without asking its downright cheeky. Charlotte and my brother stormed off to her mums, cursing us as they went. Were never coming back! Youre on your own!
But something tells me theyll be back come autumn, with bags in hand, ready for apples and potatoes…
