Tom, are you sure we havent forgotten the charcoal? Last time we had to run to the village shop, and they only had damp logs, Alice turned to her husband, who was steering the car with steady attention, weaving around potholes on the narrow country lane.
Ive packed the charcoal, Alice. And the firelighters. The marinated steaks you made are in the cooler bag, Tom replied, glancing away from the road to give her a reassuring smile. Relax, love. Were going for a proper break. Two weeks holiday, nothing but peace and quiet, the birds, and your beloved lawn. Youve been dreaming about it all winter.
Alice sank blissfully back into her seat and closed her eyes. Lawn. The word itself was music to her. Three years ago, when they first bought the rundown cottage on its overgrown plot, the place had been nothing but head-high nettles and piles of builders rubble. Alice herself had cleared broken bricks and dug out old weeds, and then she and Tom hired a team to level out the space in front of the house and lay down a top-of-the-range roll-out lawn.
It had become her sanctuary: a perfect emerald carpet, soft and even, just right for lying with a book, sipping morning coffee, or stretching with a bit of yoga. She was fussy about itno heavy shoes, no wild games allowed, nothing that could damage the turf. For Alice, that lawn was the symbol that their cottage was a place of rest, not the relentless slog older generations seemed to crave.
Do you think Mum remembered to water it while we were away? Alice muttered aloud. Its been nearly thirty all week.
Stop worrying, Tom chuckled. Mums nothing if not responsible. We gave her the keys. She said shed come every other day and keep an eye on things. She knows how fussy you are about your grass.
Toms mother, Barbara, was an old-school, no-nonsense sort. Energetic and opinionated, she firmly believed that earth shouldnt just sit about. Every patch of ground, in her view, had to be productive: potatoes, carrots, at the very least some parsley. The first couple of years, Alice had to endure small skirmishes to defend her bit of peace. Barbara muttered about fancy lawns for the idle, but eventually seemed to accept the arrangementher greenhouse in the back, Alices immaculate lawn in the front.
Their car crunched to a stop on the gravel and Alice jumped out to unlock the gate, breathing in the warm scents of pine and wild rose. She looked forward to kicking off her city shoes and padding barefoot across the cool grass.
She swung the gate open, took a step forwardand froze. Her laptop bag slipped from her shoulder and landed softly in the dust.
Alice, whats holding you up? Lets get the car in Tom called, but when she didnt answer, he switched off the engine and stepped out. Alice?
He skidded to a halt beside her, following her blank stareand the shock hit him too.
The emerald carpet was gone.
In its place was a churned-up field: rough furrows ran jagged from the porch to the gazebo, chunks of expensive turf hacked up and scattered all around. In the furrows, pale little plants already poked through, as if mocking the very idea of sense.
Right in the middle, wearing an old dressing gown and a floppy sun hat, stood Barbara. She leaned on her spade, wiping her brow with an air of triumph.
Oh, youre here! What a surprise! she beamed, seeing the stricken pair. Ive got a surprise for you! Only just managed to finish before you arrived.
Alice felt the blood drain from her face. Her ears rang. She stepped forward in a daze, stopping at the edge of the devastated patch. Bits of lawn lay everywhereshredded roots and the mesh that held them, cruelly hacked through with a shovel.
Whats this? Alices voice was quiet, but the coldness made Tom flinch.
What does it look like? Vegetable beds! Barbara planted her spade in the earth, gesturing expansively. All that space was going to waste. I worked it out: this spot gets the best sun all day. That grass was just sitting there, doing nothing. Ive planted spring onions here, carrots over there, and by the gazebo, therell be courgettes. Homegrown courgettes! Just think! Well roast them, make chutney
Mum Tom groaned, coming closer. What have you done? That was turf. Rolled turf. We paid nearly £1,500 for that three years ago, not to mention all the upkeep, the feed, mowing
Oh, do talk sense! Barbara waved him off. That much for grass? Youve more money than sense. Grass is grassit grows for free in the fields. Land should be used for food. Have you seen the price of carrots in the shops? Youll thank me in winter for homemade chutney. I did this for you! My backs killing me, three days digging while you two were off gallivanting.
Alice was silent, staring at her ruined hard work and the dirty furrows across her garden. This wasnt just a bit of meddling. It was a brazen crossing of all boundaries, erasing her priorities and her effort with a spade.
Barbara, Alice said, raising her eyes, we asked you only to water the flowers. Not to dig, not to plant. This is our house. Our garden.
And what of it? Barbaras cheer faded, turning defensive. Im your mother! I know best. Youre young, you dont know whats good for you. When winter comes and youre short of veg, youll be grateful for all those jars. That lawn honestly! The neighbours are all talking. Everyone else has proper kitchen gardens, but you lot have got a putting green. Lucy next door took the mick: Doesnt your daughter-in-law know what a spade is? she said.
I couldnt care less about Lucy, Alice spat back, choosing her words. And I certainly dont want any courgettes. Tom, get the things from the car.
Alice, hold on, Tom tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. Mum, you have overstepped. We had an agreement. The greenhouse out back is yours. The rest is for relaxing. Why did you ruin it?
Ruin it?! Barbara shrieked, her face blotching red. I slaved for you! My blood pressure is sky high, and I still dug for your sake! This is the thanks I get? Ruined?
She clutched her chest and sank onto the bench by the porch, groaning loudly.
Alice walked past her without a glance. Inside it was cool and smelled of old timber. She filled a glass with water, downed it, hands shaking. She wanted to howl, to throw something, but she knew a hysterical scene would fuel Barbaras sense of martyrdomand the woman adored that role.
Five minutes later, Tom came in looking sheepish and lost.
Alice, she meant well. Shes old school, cant understand land lying empty.
Tom, Alice turned to him, this isnt about her upbringing. Its about respect. She acts as if we and everything we own are hers to rearrange as she sees fit. She never cared what would make us happy. She just wanted it her way, to prove shes in charge.
Ill have another chat with her, explain again
No more chats, Alice cut him off. Weve been patient for three years. She nodded, pretended to agree, then did exactly what she pleased behind our backs. Fixing the lawn isnt just a matter of sowing some seed. The soil is ruined, the levels destroyed, the turf is mangled. Well need a new base, fresh rolls of turf, workersanother huge bill and a month of mess.
Tom slumped into a chair.
So what do you want to do? Kick her out?
No, Alice said. Shes going to put it right.
Alice, be serious! Toms eyes widened. Shes sixty-five! How do you expect her to fix it? She cant re-lay the turf.
No, but she can start by clearing away her plants, unearthing every last onion and carrot, raking the soil flat. As for the new turfshell pay for that.
She wont pay, shes only got her pension
Shes got savings, Tom. Didnt she boast about her rainy day fund for the grandkids? Well, were her family, and right now we need that help.
Thats harsh, Alice.
Whats harsh is coming home to find your sanctuary sabotaged. Whats harsh is having your wishes trampled on. Im going to spell it out to her. And if she refuses, shes not coming back here. Ill change the locks tonight.
Alice walked out onto the porch. Barbara, no longer clutching her chest, was gossiping energetically with Lucy over the garden fence, waving in the direction of the house. When she noticed Alice, her face fell into a mask of woe.
Barbara, I want a word with you, Alice said loudly as she came down the steps.
What is it? Barbara grunted. Im parchedfetch me some water, youve made me work up a thirst.
Youll get water later. Listen carefully. You have until Sunday evening.
Until what?
To dig up everything youve planted. Every plant, every onion, every courgette seedling. All of itremoved. The earth raked level.
Barbara stared as though Alice had started speaking Welsh.
Have you lost your mind? I toiled to plant it, now you expect me to dig it up? Thats wicked! Theyre living things! I wont do it! You dont order me about! This is my sons cottage, not your boarding house!
This house and plot are jointly owned, Alice said calmly. I never consented to any vegetable planting. If the ground isnt level by Sunday, Ill hire workmen with a digger and send you the bill. And after that, youre never coming here again. Give your key to Tom now.
Tom! Barbara wailed, seeking rescue as Tom appeared in the doorway. Do you hear how she speaks to your own mother? Shes driving me to an early grave! Say something!
Tom joined them outside. He was pale, but meeting Alices eyes he realised: there was no going back. Not supporting her now would be the end of their marriage.
Mum, Alice is right, he said, his voice low. You shouldnt have done this. Its our home. We wanted a lawn. Youve ruined it.
You too?! Barbara threw up her hands. Under her thumb! Spineless! I did it all for you, and
Mum, enough, Tom said, hardening his voice. Stop claiming it was for us. You did it because you wanted to. Now youll fix it. Either remove it all yourself, or its a real falling out.
Barbara opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Shed never expected her gentle son to take sides against her.
Keep your blasted lawn! she finally spat. Youll never see me again! Ill go now!
She snatched up her bag from the bench and marched off towards the gate.
Keys, please, Barbara, Alice called after her.
Barbara stopped, dug in her dressing gown pocket, and flung the ring of keys into the dust.
Take them! I hope only weeds ever grow on your perfect lawn!
She slammed out through the gate. Seconds later, the sound of a taxis engine drifted upshe must have ordered it before the argument, or would catch the bus from the nearby stop.
Alice picked up the keys, brushed off the dirt, and looked at Tom.
Shell be back, Alice said confidently. Shes left her seedlings and her coat. Besides, shes not a quitter.
Tom walked over to the churned earth, toeing a clump of soil.
And what now? Do we have to sort it ourselves?
No, Alice said. Shes probably just gone to rant to Lucy. The bus isnt for two hours.
Sure enough, Barbaras complaints floated in from over the fence, her tales of being chucked out by her heartless daughter-in-law drifting through the gardeners plots.
Alice pulled out her phone.
Who are you calling? Tom asked.
Im ringing the landscaping firm, to get a price for restorationtop to bottom, rubbish removal and new soil included.
The rest of the evening passed in a heavy silence. Alice and Tom sat on the veranda with their tea, hardly tasting it, staring at the scarred earth. The mood was spoilt absolutely.
The next morning, the gate creaked. Alice looked up from cooking breakfastBarbara had returned. This time, her manner was more sulky than defiant as she trudged to her greenhouse, eyes averted from the house.
Alice stepped outside.
Good morning, Barbara. Back for your things?
Barbara froze, then slowly turned.
Ive been thinking she muttered, looking away. Would be a shame to lose those onions, the good Dutch ones. They cost money.
Shame, indeed, Alice replied. The lawn cost money too. I checked the restoration costwith soil, labour and re-turfing, its £800.
Barbaras eyes widened in disbelief.
How much?! Thats daylight robbery!
Market rates. I can show you the quote. Since youre responsible, you pay. Either you restore it yourself by clearing and levellingthen we just have to buy seedor you foot the bill for new turf and labour.
I havent that kind of money! Barbara squealed.
Then get the rake and spade. Clear up your mess.
Im an old woman!
You had the energy to dig it up. So I expect you can manage to tidy it back. Tom will help shift the waste, but youll tidy the beds. This is about principle, Barbara: you cant waltz in and set your own rules in someone elses home.
Tom now appeared on the porch.
MumAlice has a point. Were not paying for your experiment. Ill get you some sacks and you can take your onions homegrow them on your balcony or whatever. But here, its got to be cleared.
Barbara darted desperate looks between them, desperate for sympathy, for a chink in their resolve. But both stood firm: Alice, calm and direct; Tom, a bit sad, but obviously resolved to back his wife.
Barbara sniffeda sound of surrender.
Fine, she muttered. Give me the sacks, you tyrants.
The next two days were almost surreal. Barbara, wheezing and theatrically clutching her back, dug up her own veggies and packed them in boxes, muttering curses under her breath. Alice didnt interfere. She sat with a book on the only strip of grass left, but watched intently to make sure the work was done.
Tom ferried away the earth, broke up the biggest clods, brought his mother water when needed, butat Alices insistencedidnt do it all for her.
If you do it for her, she wont learn, Alice told him one night. She has to feel the consequences herself.
By Sunday evening, the site looked bleak: trampled, black earth, but at least the ridges were gone and the ground roughly level.
Barbara collapsed on the porch, dirty and exhausted, the fire in her eyes stilled.
There. Happy now? she croaked.
Alice inspected the work. It wasnt perfect, but it was a startnow they could order sand, hire a roller, and sow new seed. Itd be cheaper and easier than full re-turfing.
Thank you, Barbara, Alice said, without a trace of sarcasm. I appreciate the effort.
Barbara looked up, eyes tired.
Youre made of stone, Alice. I used to think Tom would be happier with you, but youve henpecked him to death.
Im not made of stone, Barbara. I just want my wishes to be respected. If youd asked for a small veg patch behind the house, Id have agreed. But you wiped out something important to me. Thats the difference.
Barbara said nothing. She got to her feet, dusted herself off.
Will Tom drive my boxes of onions back to mine?
Of course, Alice nodded.
And about the keys?
Alice and Tom glanced at one another.
No, Mum, Tom said firmly. Well keep them for now. Well do the watering ourselves. You can visit when we invite you.
Barbara pursed her lips, but didnt argue. Shed crossed a linethere was no going back to blind trust.
A month later, the lawn was slowly returning to life. Alice and Tom had reseeded the plot with a robust, hard-wearing grass mix, and green shoots began to spread across the once-barren earth.
Barbara came only once all summer, for Toms birthday in August. She was subdued, quieter, arriving with pies (filled, incidentally, with those home-dug onions), and even complimented the recovering lawn.
Well, its green, isnt it, she observed, surveying the neat grass. Definitely cleanerall that mud before, youd just drag it inside.
Alice smiled, pouring her some tea.
Of course its better, Barbara. Everything has its place: veg belongs in the greenhouse or the grocers. This is for relaxing.
The territorial skirmish had ended. Though scars on the garden still told the tale, somehow the boundaries, carved with a spade and defended through stubbornness, had opened the way for a more honest relationshipstronger and clearer than any forced politeness.
