My mother owns a house in the outskirts of a quiet English town. Every summer, at her suggestion, we head out there: we freshen up the place, tend to the garden beds. Recently, my husband put in a new pool. Theres even a charming gazebo in the corner. But ever since my brother Charles got married, he hasnt bothered with the house. His wife, Elizabeth, was dead against it. From the beginning, Elizabeth made things clearnow Charles wife, family, and their interests came before all else. If anyone needed help, she insisted my mum should just hire some workers.
Mum doesnt hold it against her; she tries to see her side. This year, Mum overworked herself and couldnt get to the house during the summer. Though she couldnt make it, she fretted about the garden, worried that no one was tending it.
Mum suggested to Charles that he might plant something, but Elizabeth persuaded him otherwise, and he refused. My husband and I thought it would be lovely to spend some weekends in the countryside. After all, you could get some fresh air, and Mum would be reassured someone was keeping an eye on things.
We bought some young trees and seedlings, tidied up the soil before planting, refreshed the flower beds, and took care of the greenhouse. Sundays, we rested, and we made sure to follow our mothers advice to the letter.
Last weekend, my husband and I visited his parents, leaving the house empty. Unexpectedly, Charles and Elizabeth showed up.
When we returned the next weekend, we were taken aback. Someone was inside the house. We knocked, but nobody answered. Elizabeth finally peeked out the window and said,
We’ve decided to let our flat to save up for a holiday, so we’re living here now. You can leavewe never invited you.
Does Mum know about this? I asked. Of course she does! Where do you think we got the keys from? Elizabeth replied.
I rang my mother. Yes, I gave Charles the keys. He said hed help you out. Mum, they aren’t helpingElizabeth doesn’t lift a finger and wont let us in.
What do you mean, theyre living there? Mum asked incredulously. Thats what I mean. They let their flat, are saving for a trip, and moved into your bungalow. I filled her in.
Well, if theyre looking after the garden, watering and weeding, fine, let them stay. If notthrow them out. They always manage to wriggle out of anything! Come autumn, theyll turn up with baskets, eager for apples and potatoes, after doing nothing. Tell them it’s their turn to look after the place, Mum decided.
I knocked again. What is it? Elizabeth called irritably. I told her what Mum had decided. Elizabeth said she wouldn’t lift a finger. Ive got a manicure! Am I your servant? If we grow anything here, why should you expect us to share? If you want something, buy it. Everything here is ours. Obviously, Id have to turf them out. They ignored me, so Mum had to speak to them herself. She demanded they leave.
And where are we supposed to go? Someone else lives in our flat! my brother protested.
Hand them back their rent money, I suggested.
That won’t work. We spent it on earrings for Elizabeth, Charles replied. Theres no sense pawning themwont get half what they cost. What are we supposed to do?
Really, it wasnt my problem. At the very least, you should warn your mum before making plans. Moving in without asking is rude. Elizabeth and Charles went off to stay with her mum, cursing us on their way out. Well never come back! You’re on your own now!
Yet, I suspect come autumn, they’ll pop round again with sacks, hoping for apples and potatoes, after all the works been done.
In the end, I learnt that family, like a garden, needs tending from everyoneotherwise, only weeds will flourish. True strength lies not in taking, but in sharing and caring.
