It was a crisp autumn evening when the old cottage stood bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The thatched roof and carved wooden eaves gave it a timeless charm, nestled among gnarled apple trees that had borne fruit for generations. The house had been passed down to Emily from her parents after her grandmothers passing. Every corner held memories of her childhood, and now she lived there with her husband, Edward, for the past three years.
As the September sky turned crimson, Emily set out teacups on the veranda for their evening ritual. Through the open door, she could hear her parents chattingher father, Thomas Whitmore, was telling her mother, Margaret, about harvesting the last of the tomatoes from the greenhouse.
“Margaret, we ought to dig up the carrots tomorrow,” Thomas said, wiping his hands on a tea towel. “The frost will be upon us soon.”
“Aye, Thomas. Emily, love, might you lend a hand tomorrow?” Margaret called to her daughter.
Emily nodded as she poured steaming tea into the cups. Her parents had arrived at the start of summer and had been helping around the house ever since. Her father mended fences, tended the garden, while her mother made preserves from the blackberries and gooseberries they gathered. The cottage had come alive again with the comforting sounds of footsteps on wooden floors, the scent of fresh baking, and quiet conversations over supper.
Edward appeared in the doorway, shaking raindrops from his coat. He worked as an engineer in the city, commuting daily in his motorcar.
“Thomas, hows the shed roof holding up?” he asked, taking his seat at the table.
“Needs new timber, I reckon. The old boards are rotting through,” Thomas replied.
Edward sipped his tea in silence, nodding occasionally as his father-in-law spoke. Emily noticed how distracted hed become lately, often brooding without reason. When her parents retired for the night, Edward would sit by the telly, flipping through channels absently.
“Something troubling you?” Emily asked one evening, settling beside him on the settee.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Edward muttered, eyes fixed on the screen.
Emily didnt press. Men could be moody, especially as autumn drew in. Perhaps he was just tired.
But within days, Edwards behaviour shifted. When Thomas offered to help repair the garage, Edward refused sharplyuncharacteristically so. At supper, he spoke little, answering only in clipped tones. Margaret asked if he was unwell, but Emily assured her it was nothing.
On Saturday morning, as her parents set off for the woods to gather mushrooms, Edward approached her in the kitchen while she washed the breakfast dishes.
“Emily, we need to talk,” he said, sitting at the table.
Drying her hands, she turned to him. His expression was grim.
“Mums turning sixty soon. A proper milestone. She wants to celebrate here, at the cottageinvite family, friends. You know how she loves hosting.”
Emily nodded. Her mother-in-law, Beatrice, adored entertaining. Every holiday saw her home filled to the brim with guests.
“And what are you suggesting?” Emily asked.
Edward hesitated, then met her gaze.
“Your parents will have to go elsewhere for the week. Just while the partys on. Mum wants to rearrange thingsdecorate, make space for guests staying overnight.”
Emily froze, the tea towel clenched in her hands. His words struck like a blow.
“Go elsewhere? This is their home. Theyve every right to be here.”
“Its only for a few days! They could stay with your aunt or take a holiday. Surely its no great hardship.”
Emily hung the towel slowly, her thoughts spinning.
“Edward, are you serious? Youd turn them out for a party? Theyve done nothing but help us. Without them, wed never manage this place.”
Edward stood, stepping closer.
“Emily, try to understand. Mums dreamed of this for years. Family coming from all over. Its a once-in-a-lifetime celebration. And your parentswhats a week away to them?”
“My parents?” Emilys voice hardened. “This is their home, Edward. Theyve every right to stay.”
Edwards jaw tensedhe was losing patience.
“Youre not listening. Mums already booked caterers, musicians. Its too late to cancel.”
“Then she can host it at her place or rent a hall,” Emily said, folding her arms.
Edwards face reddened.
“Listen here, Emily! Mums earned this. Shes worked hard her whole life. Your parents can”
“What?” Emilys eyes flashed. “Say it.”
Edward clenched his fists.
“My mother deserves to celebrate in her own wayand your parents can damn well make themselves scarce for it!”
The room fell silent, thick with tension. Emily stared at him, hands trembling but her voice steady.
“They stay. This is their home. If Beatrice needs a venue, she can find another.”
Edward slammed his fist on the table. A teacup jumped, shattering on the floor.
“Youre being unreasonable! Mums planned everythingguests, music, food! Youd ruin it over stubbornness?”
“Stubbornness?” Emily knelt, gathering the broken pieces. “Its called respecting ones family. The people who gave me this home.”
“And what of respect for me? For my mother?” Edward paced, his voice rising. “Im your husband! Doesnt my word count for anything?”
Emily stood, shards in her hands.
“Ive always valued your opinion. But asking them to leave isnt an opinionits rudeness.”
Edward stopped, glaring.
“Fine. Sort it yourself. Go explain to Mum why her partys ruined!” He turned on his heel. “Im going to her. At least there, Im treated with respect!”
The door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows. The engine roared to life, tyres crunching gravel as he sped away.
Alone in the kitchen, Emily clutched the broken china.
Half an hour later, her parents returned. Thomas carried a basket of mushrooms; Margaret held a sprig of rowan berries for the vase.
“Wheres Edward?” Margaret asked, glancing around. “His cars gone.”
“Gone to his mothers,” Emily replied, fighting to keep her voice even.
Thomas set the basket down, studying his daughter.
“Something amiss, love?”
Emily nearly told them everythingthen stopped. Why upset them? Let them think it a simple visit.
“Nothing serious, Father. Beatrice has a birthday comingplans for a celebration.”
Margaret nodded.
“Ah, a milestone, then. We ought to prepare a gift.”
“Yes, Mum. We will.”
Emily retreated to her room. Sitting on the bed, she clutched a pillow. Edwards words echoed in her mind: “Your parents can damn well make themselves scarce.” How could he say that? Of Thomas, whod worked as a mechanic his whole life, honest and diligent? Of Margaret, whod cared for the sick as a nurse, working nights without complaint? Modest, decent people who never burdened her.
Now her husband called them a nuisancedemanded they leave their own home.
She rose, gazing out the window. In the yard, Thomas stacked firewood, movements calm and steady. Margaret hung freshly washed linens on the line. An ordinary autumn day.
These were the people whod raised her, given her an education, a home. Never a burdenalways a help. Since arriving, theyd shouldered most of the work. Thomas fixed the roof, painted the fence, dug the vegetable patch. Margaret cooked, cleaned, kept order.
Without them, she and Edward couldnt manage this place. He returned late from the city, exhausted. The chores fell to her. Her parents presence had been a blessing.
And now Edward wanted them gonefor a party. Beatrice, whod never lifted a finger to help them.
Beatrice lived in a townhouse, had worked as a shop assistant. Sociable, fond of gatheringsbut cold toward her son and daughter-in-law. She rarely visited, always finding faultthe food, the dust, the bed too hard.
Now shed decided to celebrate herein Emilys home. And demanded her parents be turned out.
Emily clenched her fists. She wouldnt allow it. The cottage was hers, steeped in family history. No one had the right to dictate its use but her.
If Beatrice wanted a grand affair, let her hire a hall. Edward earned wellthey could afford it. But ejecting family from their home? Unthinkable.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Edward: “Think on what I said. Mums terribly upset.”
Emily deleted it without reply. There was nothing to think about. Her decision was final.
At supper, her parents asked when Edward would return. Emily evadedperhaps delayed by business. Thomas nodded silently, but she saw he understood. Margaret fretted, suggesting they ring him.
“Dont trouble yourself, Mum. Hell call if needed.”
After supper, her parents retired earlycountry habits. Emily remained in the kitchen, washing up, thinking of tomorrow.
Edward would return in
