So we’ve had a think and decidedno point in your cottage sitting empty, is there? We’re going to take the kids there for Christmas hols. Fresh air, there’s the sledging hill, we’ll get the woodburner going. Youre always at work, Alice, and David says hed rather catch up on sleep than come, so hand over the keys, well pop in first thing tomorrow.
The voice of Davids sister, Charlotte, filled the kitchen so loudly and forcefully that Alice was compelled to hold the phone at arms length. Standing at the sink, drying plates, she tried to digest the gall of it. Davids relations were notorious for their cheek, but this took the cake.
Hang on a second, Charlotte, Alice replied, struggling to keep the tension from her voice, Who exactly made this decision? The cottage isnt a public hotel or a holiday camp. Its our home. And, by the way, we had plans to go ourselves.
Oh, dont be like that, Charlotte brushed her off, probably with her mouth full. David told Mum youd be staying home doing nothing. Loads of space there, two floors, wont bother you if you fancy coming. Though better not, if Im honestbit too lively for you bookish types. Greg will invite his matesmusic, barbie, the lot. Youll only be bored.
Alices face burned as the image popped into her mind: Charlottes husband Greg, who revelled in brash songs and cheap lager, their two teens running riot, the poor cottageher sanctuarysubjected to their chaos, after shed poured her savings and soul into it for five years.
No, Charlotte, she said, voice firm. You cant have the keys. The place isnt set up for guestsheatings tricky, and the septic tanks a pain. And frankly, Im not having a crowd of people trashing my home.
Were strangers now, are we? Charlotte squealed, stopping mid-chew. Your husbands own sister and the kids! Youve become heartless with all this accounts work. Ill phone Mum and tell her how you treat your family!
The dial tone rang harsh and abrupt. Alice put the phone down with trembling hands. She knew this was only the opening volley. Before long, Davids motherthe great Mrs. Margaret Turnerwould be round, bombardment in full swing.
David appeared, guilt etched on his face; clearly, hed overheard everything but lacked the nerve to intervene.
Al, he started tentatively, attempting to put an arm round her, You didnt have to be so blunt. Charlottes a bit much, sure, but theyre family, love. Theyll hold a grudge.
Shaking off his hand, Alice faced him. Fatigue and determination mingled in her stare.
Do you remember last May? she asked quietly.
He winced as if stabbed with toothache.
Yeah, I remember.
Do you? They said just the weekend for a barbecue. Result? Dads apple tree, the one he plantedsnapped in two. Burn marks all over the sitting-room carpet! I scrubbed for a week; stains never came out. Their mess in the kitchen; Charlotte refused to help, babbling about her nails and that theres a dishwasherexcept it got blocked because they stuffed plates in with half-eaten food! And the broken vase? My peonies trampled?
Theyre just kids playing, David muttered, staring at the floor.
Kids, David? Your nephew is fifteen, your niece thirteen. Hardly toddlers. They know exactly what theyre doing. They nearly set the shed on fire experimenting in the sauna! And now you want them in the cottage alone, in winter, for a week?
They promised theyd be careful. Greg said hell keep an eye out.
Greg only keeps an eye on the beer running out! Alice snapped, turning away. No, David. I said no. Its my houselegally and in every sense. All my inheritance from Nana went on that place. I know every nail in every wall. I wont let it be destroyed.
The evening lapsed into sullen silence. David half-heartedly flicked through telly channels before slinking off to bed. Alice sat in the kitchen, tea growing cold, memories of building the cottage circling her mind.
It was never just a holiday home. It was her dream made real; the old timber bungalow, inherited from her mum and dad, rebuilt over three years on a shoestring. Shed scrimped, said no to new clothes, no seaside trips, all to fund every inch. She sanded beams herself, painted, chose every tile. That cottage was her sanctuary from city stress and work. To Davids family, it was just a free B&B with central heating.
The next daySaturdaysomeone knocked at the door. Alice checked the peephole, sighing. Margaret Turner was outside, immaculately put together, lipstick flawless, massive shopping bag in one hand and a chunk of frozen salmon peeking out.
Open up, Alice! We need to talk! barked Margaret, not even bothering with a hello.
Alice let her in. Margaret swept inside like a galleon under full sail. David materialised in the hallway, half-relieved, half-terrified.
Mum! You could have let us know.
What, do I need an appointment to see my boy now? Margaret huffed, dumping her coat on David. Put the kettle on. And fetch my tabletsthe lot of you make my heart race lately.
Margaret set herself up in the kitchen, as if chairing a court. Alice made tea, sliced fruit loaf, and braced herself.
Well then, Alice love, Margaret began, pinkie out, whats all this about refusing dear Charlotte? Flesh and blood, your own husbands sister! Only asked for a keypoor things, stuck in the flat, workmen banging about, children half-suffocated with dust. Youve got a palace just sitting there. Couldnt you share?
Mrs Turner, Alice answered, eyes locked on Margarets, First, its not a palace but a home that needs careful looking after. Second, Charlottes renovations have been ongoing for five years, and thats no excuse to camp out in someone elses property. Third, I havent forgotten their last visit. I still cant get the smoke smell out from the guest-room curtains.
They had a cheeky smoke! Air it out, for goodness sake, Margaret waved a hand. Youre too fussed with your ornaments, Alice, and not enough with people. Its called materialism! I brought David up to be kind and generous, not a miser. You cant take it with you when youre gone!
Mum, Alice really has put in a lot of work David ventured.
Quiet, David! she snapped. Under her thumb, just like your father. While your own sister and the kids freeze on the streets? Gregs forty-five soonthey planned a proper little do. Already invited the guests, the joint, the whole thing. Now what? Tell everyone its off?
Not my fault they planned a party in someone elses home without asking, Alice cut in. Thats just rude, Mrs Turner.
Margaret went a dangerous shade of mauve. She wasnt used to defianceespecially not from her carefully trained son.
Rude? Is that how it is now? Taken you in like a daughter, and this is what I get. David! Are you going to let her speak to me like that? If you dont hand Charlotte those keys, I swear youll regret it! Youll never see me set foot in that cottage again!
You never come anyway, you hate the country and gardens, Alice muttered.
You snake! Margaret exploded, knocking over her chair. David, give me the keysnow. Ill give them to Charlotte myself. Are you the man of this house or not?
David looked as though hed rather be anywhere else. He stole a glance at Alice, then at his mother, torn. He remembered fixing the porch steps last time, after Gregs barbecue rampage; how embarrassed hed been for Alice as she scrubbed the singed rug.
Mum, Alice has the keys. And maybe well go ourselves.
Liar! Margaret cried. Right, Charlottes coming round tomorrow. Keys on the table, and instructions for the heating. Or youre no son of mine. And you, she jabbed at Alice, mark my words. The world goes round.
She flounced out, the flat echoing with the bang of the door. Silence fell, broken only by the clock ticking.
Youre not going to give them the keys, are you? David asked, half an hour later, voice small.
No, Alice replied. And in fact, David were driving up to the cottage ourselves tomorrow. Early.
But you said you needed to finish your year-end accounts.
Plans have changed. If were not there, theyll invade. Charlotte would climb through a window if she had to. If were in, she wont dare.
Thats thats a war, Alice.
Its defending our borders, David. Start packing.
They set off before dawn, city aglow with Christmas lights, neither one in festive spirits. David fretted, staring at his phone, which Alice insisted stayed on silent.
The drive took an hour and a half. By the time they pulled up, the village drifted under thick snow. Their housea pretty timber cottage with a snowy rooflooked like it belonged on a Christmas card. Alice exhaled. Here, she felt safe.
They got the heating and underfloor warmth going, Alice fetched the decorations. By lunchtime, the house smelt of pine and clementines. The tension faded little by little. David found the snow shovel and cleared the garden, swinging the blade with surprising vigour. He needed this, Alice knew, even if hed never admit it.
At three oclock, all hell broke loose.
Repeated car horns at the gate. Alice peered out: Two cars blocked the drive. Gregs battered Jeep, and a strangers hatchback. Charlotte, her coat blazing red, Greg in dishevelled jeans, the teens, another couple and their doga massive, unsupervised Rottweiler. And Margaret Turner presiding, imperial and scowling.
David froze mid-shovel, pale.
Open up! Were here, party time! bellowed Greg, voice echoing down the lane.
Pulling on her boots and coat, Alice stepped onto the porch. David hovered at the gate, refusing to open it.
David, open the gatewere freezing! Charlotte shrieked, rattling the latch. Alice, what are you playing at? Surprise! Thought wed celebrate togethermore the merrier!
Alice went over, laid a hand on Davids arm and called loudly, We werent expecting company.
Oh, come off it! scoffed Greg, reeking of booze even through the bars. Bit of fun, thats all! Brought meat, loads of drink! Look, Tony and his wife are here, and their dogshes harmless! Let us in, mate!
A dog? Alice saw the Rottweiler cock its leg on her winter-wrapped cypress. Get your dog away from my plants!
Relax, its only a tree, Charlotte laughed. Open up, the kids need the loo!
Theres a service station five miles back, Alice bit out. I told you yesterday: cottage is occupied. Were here, together. There isnt space for ten people plus a dog.
An astonished silence fell as the reality set in. Relatives showed up, sure Alice would fold once they were on the doorstepclassic ambush tactics.
So, youll leave us out in the cold? Make your own mother wait in the snow? Margarets voice trembled with outrage. David! Say something!
He looked at Alice, desperate.
Alice cant we just theyre already here
No, David. Alice met his gaze, steel in her voice. If you open that gate, in an hour this house is in ruins. The dog will wreck my garden and drag filth through the lounge. The kids will tear apart the upstairs. Your sister will lecture me on baking in my own kitchen, your brother-in-law will chain-smoke indoors. Our holiday will be over before it starts. Is that what you want? Or would you rather ring in the new year quietly, with me? You choose. Now.
He looked at the rabble. Greg kicked his own cars tyre, Charlotte screamed something foul, the kids pelted snowballs at the windows. Margaret clutched her chest, putting on a show.
Then David remembered: fixing the broken swing after their last visit; how sorry he felt for Alice, scrubbing their stains off her beloved rug; how he wanted to just sit by the fire instead of fetching more lager for Greg.
He straightened, marched to the gate, and spoke quietly, but with new resolve:
Mum. Charlotte. Alice is right. We said no keys, and we meant it. Please leave.
What?! came the chorus.
As I said. This is my house, too. And I dont want a circus. Turn around.
Greg lunged for the latch, You what? Dont start!
Go home, Greg, David gripped the shovel. Any more of this, Ill call the police. These estates have wardens.
Police!? You call us strangers? Margaret gasped. Well see about that. I never want to see your face again! Or hers! Never again!
Off we go! shouted Charlotte, tugging at Greg. Nutters, the pair of you. Well go to Tonys yardat least theyre decent!
Right you are, well fire up the stove, Tony added, clearly uncomfortable.
Engines started. The cars churned slowly away, Charlotte gesticulating rudely out the window. Margaret sat stony-faced in the front seat. When the noise faded, only an ugly yellow patch remained on the snow-wrapped cypresses.
David dropped the shovel and slumped onto the porch steps, head in hands.
Oh God, what humiliation, he whispered. My own mum
Alice sat beside him, wrapped her arms around him.
Its not humiliation, David. Its growing up. For the first time, you protected usnot them, us. This is our family.
Shell never forgive me.
She will. As soon as she wants somethingmoney, a lift to the doctors, help with the house. Thats how they are. But now they know where the line is. Theyll have to respect it. Maybe not today, maybe not for a while, but theyll learn.
You think so?
I know so. And even if they dont at least we wont live in fear. Lets get inside before you freeze. Ill put some mulled wine on.
Back in the warm, Alice drew the curtains, shutting out the cold and the harsh words. That evening they watched the fire in silencea silence rich with comfort and understanding, not reproach.
Three days passed in bliss: woodland walks, dinners for two, steam in the sauna, books by the window. The phones stayed silentthe family had gone to ground.
On the third of January, as Alice predicted, Charlotte texted David: not an apology, just a photoa dingy shed, makeshift stove, vodka bottles, flushed faces. Caption: Dont need youhaving a blast! Bet youre jealous!
Alice glanced at the photosmess everywhere, Gregs sullen facethen at her husband, dozing, peaceful, book on his lap, without a care.
Not jealous at all, Charlotte, she muttered, and deleted the message, letting him sleep.
A week later, back in London, Margaret phoned. The air was chilly, her voice colder, but she asked David to drive her to the surgery. Not a single word about the cottage. The border had been drawnperhaps skirmished over, but their stronghold remained.
Alice learned the most important lesson: sometimes you must be bad to others to stay good to yourselfand to protect your family. The cottage keys? Locked away. Just in case.
