Summer Rules
When the train screeched to a halt at the tiny country stop, Mrs Edith Brown was already standing at the very edge of the platform, her arms clutching a sturdy canvas bag to her chest. Inside, apples rolled over a jar of homemade raspberry jam and a plastic tub filled with Cornish pasties. Of course, none of this was strictly necessarythe grandchildren always arrived well-fed from London, each with a rucksack and a shopping bag in towbut Ediths hands couldnt help but prepare something. That was simply how one greeted family.
With a tremor, the carriages jerked and the doors flew open. Out tumbled three at once: tall, gangly William, his younger sister Daisy, and a rucksack that seemed to run under its own steam.
Gran! Daisy spotted her first, her bracelets jangling as she waved.
Something warm flooded through Ediths throat. She carefully set her bag down so as not to tip it, then opened her arms to the pair.
Oh, look at you She almost said, “how you’ve grown,” but caught herself in time. Of course, they knew.
William approached more slowly, giving his grandmother a one-armed hug, the other hand steadying his rucksack.
Hi, Gran, he said.
He was nearly a head taller than her now, the first faint hints of stubble on his chin, narrow wrists, headphones slung casually out from beneath his T-shirt. Edith found herself hunting for traces of the little boy who once splashed through her garden in wellington bootsbut her gaze caught only on new, unfamiliar grownup details.
Grandads waiting down the lane, she said. Come along, or the fishcakesll get cold!
I want a photo first, Daisy announced, already whipping out her phone to capture the platform, the carriage, and then Edith herself. For my story.
The word “story” fluttered by Ediths ear like a bird. She remembered asking her daughter about it last winter, but the explanation had drifted away. No matter, so long as her granddaughter was smiling.
They clattered down the concrete steps. Waiting by the battered old Land Rover below was Mr. Alan Brown. He straightened, clapped William on the shoulder, folded Daisy into a quick hug, and nodded towards his wife. His manner was always more reserved, but Edith knew that inside, he was every bit as glad as she.
So, school holiday then? he asked.
Holiday, drawled William, hoisting his rucksack into the boot.
The drive home was quiet. Out the window, neat cottages slipped past, then gardens and allotments; a pair of sheep flickered by in a distant field. Daisy scrolled a few times on her phone, William let slip a laugh at something on his screen, and Edith watched their fingers as they moved restlessly over the small black rectangles.
Never mind, she reassured herself. So long as home is as it should be for us. They can do things their way afterwards.
The house welcomed them with the scent of fried fishcakes and fresh dill. On the veranda, the scrubbed old wooden table had been laid with a lemon-patterned oilcloth. The frying pan sizzled, a cabbage pie finishing in the oven.
A right royal spread! William said, peeking into the kitchen.
This isnt a feastits just lunch, Edith replied by habit, then caught herself. Now, go and wash your hands. Theres water in the basin.
Daisy had sprung for her phone again. As Edith set out salad, bread, fishcakes, she caught, out of the corner of her eye, her granddaughter taking picturesplates, the window, the old tabby cat, Millie, peering timidly from beneath a stool.
No phones at the table, Edith remarked airily, when at last everyone had sat.
William looked up. What do you mean?
Exactly what she said, Alan interjected. Eat nowthen play as much as you like.
Daisy froze for a heartbeat, then set her phone face down next to her plate. I just wanted to take a quick pic
Youve already taken plenty, Edith said gently. Lets eat now. You can post them later.
That wordpostcame out uncertain. She wasnt sure if that was what it was called, but it would do.
After a sulky pause, William also set his phone at the edge of the table. He looked as if hed been asked to take off his helmet on a voyage to the moon.
Here in our house, Edith said, pouring cordial, we have a routine. Lunch at one, supper at seven. Up by nine in the morning. Otherwisedo as you please.
Up by nine? William groaned. Suppose Im watching a film at night?
You sleep at night, said Alan, never glancing up from his plate.
The tension hung in the air, delicate as a thread. Edith hurried to soften things.
Its not military quarters, you know,” she added. “It’s just, if you sleep till lunch, you’ll miss the best of the day. Weve got the river, the woods, bikes to ride.
I want to swim in the river! Daisy piped up. And ride my bike. And do a photoshoot in the garden.
Photoshoot already sounded less alien now.
Splendid, Edith nodded. But help first, please. Potatoes need hoeing, strawberries need watering. You havent come to be waited on!
Oh, Gran, its our holiday began William, but Alan looked over.
Its a holiday, not a hotel.
William sighed but held his tongue. Beneath the table, Daisy nudged his trainer with her foot and he cracked a faint smile.
After lunch, the children went to their rooms to unpack. Edith looked in on them half an hour later. Daisy had hung her T-shirts over a chair, laid out her makeup bag and charger, lined up little bottles on the windowsill. William was sprawled on the bed, phone in hand, scrolling.
Ive put on clean sheets, Edith said. If anythings not right, let me know.
All fine, Gran, William replied, not raising his eyes from the screen.
That all fine pricked herso curt, so modern. But she only nodded.
Well do a barbecue this evening, she said. But after youve had a rest, please, could you give a hand outside? An hour or so.
Mm, William replied.
As she closed the door, Edith paused in the hallway. From behind Daisys room came the muffled sound of laughtershe was on a video call to someone. Edith suddenly felt oldnot in her bones, but in another way, as though life moved for them on some invisible, unreachable current.
Never mind, she told herself. Well get thereso long as I dont press too hard.
That evening, as the sun drooped low, the three of them stood together in the garden. The earth was warm beneath their feet, the grass crisp. Alan showed Daisy how to tell weed from carrot.
Pull that one, leave this, he explained.
What if I mix them up? Daisy squatted with a grimace.
No great loss, Edith chimed in. Were not running a farmtheyll survive.
William stood off to the side with a hoe, glancing back at the house, where the faint blue flicker of his computer monitor was visible.
You havent lost your phone, have you? Alan asked.
I left it in my room, William muttered.
For some reason, that admission warmed Edith more than it should have.
The rules held, more or less, through those first days. Edith woke them with a knockgrumbling or not, by half nine they drifted into the kitchen, where breakfast awaited. Theyd do a few chores, then spread out: Daisy staging photo shoots with Millie and the strawberries, William reading, listening to music, or pedalling off on a bike ride.
Rules were anchored by small things: phones put aside at meals, the house quiet by night. Only once, on the third night, did Edith wake to muted laughter behind Williams door, just past midnight.
Should she ignore it, or intervene?
The soft pings of a voice note followed. She sighed, slipped on her dressing gown, and knocked gently.
Will? Still awake?
The laughter stopped.
One sec, came a whisper.
He cracked the door, blinking against the hall lighteyes red-rimmed, hair askew, phone in hand.
Why arent you sleeping? She kept her voice calm.
Im watching a film. With friends.
At one in the morning?
Wellwe all agreed to start at the same time and comment while we watched
She pictured it: other teenagers in other terraces, city lights, curtains drawn, all texting into the dark about the same film.
Listen, WillI dont mind you watching a film now and then. But when youre up all night, youre not yourself next morning. Then I cant get you into the garden. Lets make a dealno screens past midnight. Before then, fine. Midnight, thats it.
He pulled a face. But everyone else
Theyre in London. Youre with us. Our house, our rules. Im not asking for an early night.
He hesitated, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
Alrightmidnight.
And do close your doorthe light shines down the landing. Keep the volume down, too.
On her way back to bed, Edith wondered if shed been too soft. She should have been firmerlike with their mother, once. But things had changed.
Rifts started, as they do, over trifles. One sultry day, Edith asked William to help Alan shift some planks to the shed.
In a minute, he muttered, eyes never leaving his screen.
Ten minutes later, Alan was out there alone.
Will, Grandads doing it himself, Edith said, her voice sharpening.
Ill be therejust let me finish this, he snapped.
Whats so important? The world wont stop if you put your phone down.
He glared up. Its important. Were in a tournamentonline.
What sort of tournament?
A gameteams. If I quit, my mates lose.
She wanted to say games were trivial, but noted the taut set of his shoulders, the clamped jaw.
How long will it take?
Twenty minutes.
Fine. Then you go. Deal?
He nodded, eyes dropping again. Edith checked at the twenty-minute mark; he was already pulling on his trainers.
Okay, Im coming, Gran, he said before she could speak.
Little negotiations like these gave Edith a sense that order could still be maintained. But then things went further awry.
It was the middle of July. They planned to visit the Saturday market for seedlings and groceries. Alan had said the car would be heavyhed need a helper not to leave it unattended.
Will, youll come with Grandad tomorrow, Edith said over supper. Daisy and Ill staygoing to make some jam.
I cant.
And why not?
I promised mates Id go into town. Theres a festivalmusic, food stalls He glanced at Daisy for support, but she only shrugged. I did say.
She couldnt remember him saying, but perhaps he had. The days blurred with chatter.
What town? Alan frowned.
Our town. Its easy from here on the train. Just by the station.
Do you even know the way?
Its only a short walk. Therell be loads of people. Besides, Im sixteen now.
That sixteen carried more weight than any argument.
Your father said you werent to wander off on your own, said Alan.
I wont be alone. My friends are going.
Which is worse.
The tension in the kitchen thickened. Daisy finished her pasta in silence, then quietly pushed her plate aside.
How about this? Edith tried. Go tonight for the market, and Will can go tomorrow?
The markets only on in the morning, Alan said. I need someone with me.
I can come instead, Daisy offered.
Youll stay with Gran, he replied automatically.
Ill be fine on my own, Edith said. Jam can wait. Daisy can go with you, Alan.
Alan shot her a lookhalf surprised, half grateful, perhaps.
And what about this one? He nodded at William.
I just William started.
Do you not realise this isnt London? Alans voice was hard. Its different here. Were responsible for you.
Someones always responsible for me! Why cant I just, for once, decide for myself?
A deep silence followed. Edith felt a twist in her gut. She wanted to say she understood, that she too had longed for independence once, but instead her mouth delivered only:
So long as youre under our roof, you follow our rules.
William shoved back his chair.
Fine, he muttered. I wont go.
He marched out, slamming the kitchen door, then upstairs. Soon came the dull thud of a bagor perhaps himselfonto the bed.
The rest of the evening was awkward. Daisy broke the tension with stories of some vlogger, but her laughter sounded forced. Alan said little, his eyes on his plate. Edith washed the dishes, her mind stuck on those wordsour rulesresonating like a spoon in a glass.
In the night, Edith woke to an odd quietness. The house breathed: floorboards creaking, a mouse perhaps, the hum of a distant carbut now it was still, too still. No light slipped from under Williams door.
Maybe hes finally getting some sleep, she thought.
In the morning, as the clock edged to quarter to nine, she found Daisy yawning at the kitchen table, Alan sipping tea and flicking through the paper.
Wheres Will? she asked.
Probably sleeping, Daisy replied.
Edith climbed the stairs, knocked.
Will, time to get up.
No answer. She opened the door. The bed was made in his haphazard way. No William. His hoodie was on the chair, charger on the desk. The phone was gone.
Her heart slid out of her chest.
Hes not there, she called downstairs.
What do you mean? Alan stood at once.
The rooms empty. Hes taken his phone.
Out in the garden? Daisy suggested.
They searched. No William in shed or garden; the bicycle was still on its stand.
The trains at eight forty, Alan said quietly, glancing up the lane.
Ediths hands had gone cold.
Perhaps hes with those boys from the lane she muttered.
He doesnt know any boys here.
Daisy whipped out her phone. Ill message him.
Her fingers darted. After a minute she looked up. He hasnt read it. Still just one tick.
“One tick” meant nothing to Edith, but by Daisys worried face she understood it wasnt good news.
What now? she asked Alan helplessly.
He was silent a moment.
Ill drive to the stationsee if anyone saw him.
Dont, Alanwhat if hes only at a neighbours
He left without a word. This is different.
He pulled on his jacket, grabbed the keys.
You stay here, in case he turns up. Daisy, if he messages or calls, tell us instantly.
As the Land Rover rattled away, Edith sat on the veranda, twisting a cloth in her hands. Her mind reeled: William at the platform, boarding the train, getting lost, dropping his phone, or She snapped herself out of it.
Steady, girl. Hes not a child. Hes not foolish.
One hour passed, then another. Daisy checked her phone over and over.
Nothing. He hasnt even come online, she kept saying.
By eleven, Alan was back, looking exhausted.
No one saw him. I drove to the station, asked at the taxi rank
He trailed off. Edith knew thered been nothing.
Maybe hes gone to the festival after all, she murmured. In town.
With no money?
Hes got his bank card, Daisy interrupted. And on his phone.
They exchanged glances: for them, money was a purse; for their grandchildren, a line of numbers behind an app.
Should we call his dad? Edith asked.
Ring him, Alan nodded. Hell find out anyway.
Her sons voice down the line was strainedfirst silent, then angry, then demanding why she hadnt kept better watch. Edith sat down on a stool, burying her face in her hands when it was over.
Gran, Daisy tried softly, hes not missing, not really. Honestly. Hes just upset.
Upset and gone, Edith said dully. As if were the enemy.
Day dragged by. Daisy helped with jam, Alan tinkered in the shed, but everything felt laboured. Daisys phone stayed stubbornly quiet.
At sunset, the gate scraped and footsteps neared the veranda. Edith, tea in hand, startled. William appeared in the doorway, in the same T-shirt, jeans now smudged, rucksack slung carelessly, looking tired but unscathed.
Hi, he said quietly.
Edith rose. For a split second she wanted to fling her arms around him, but something held her back. She only asked:
Where were you?
In town, he answered, eyes down. At the festival.
On your own?
With friends. Well nearly. Mates from the next village over. I messaged them.
Alan emerged, wiping his hands. You know what we but his voice broke slightly.
I tried to message. My phone lost signal. Then it died. I left the charger.
Daisy was already beside him, phone clutched close.
I messaged you too, she said. It never went throughjust one tick.
I didnt mean not to, William said, looking from one to another. I thought if I asked you, youd say no. But Id already promised. So
He trailed off.
So you decided not to ask at all, Alan finished.
A hush settled again, this time tinged with exhaustion as much as frustration.
Come in, first, Edith said at last. Have something to eat.
Obediently, William entered the kitchen and sat. Edith set soup before him, bread, poured him cordial. He ate hungrily.
Its expensive there, he muttered. All those food stalls.
That “your food stalls” sounded peculiar, but Edith let it pass.
Afterwards they returned to the veranda, dusk gathering, the air chillier.
Lets agree on this, Alan said. You want freedom, Will, we understand. But were responsible for you. While youre here, you have to tell us when youre going out. And not just the night beforegive us time to plan. Tell us where, how, who with. If we agree, fine. If not, you stay. But you cant just vanish.
What if you say no? William replied.
Then youre annoyed and we drag you to the market, Edith said. And well be cross too, of course, but we do it together.
He looked at her, bewildered and worn out.
I didnt mean to worry you. I just wanted to decide for myself.
And that’s good, she said. But making decisions also means thinking of those who care about you.
She was surprised how natural it soundednot a lecture, a simple fact.
He nodded.
“And if your phone batterys going, first thingfind somewhere to plug in and message us. Even if you think well be cross,” Alan added.
All right.
They lapsed into companionable silence. From beyond the garden, a dog barked. In the vegetable patch, old Millie mewled.
How was the festival? Daisy asked suddenly.
Okay. Music was rubbishfood was decent.
Have you got any pictures?
My phone died.
So theres no proof, no content. Classic. Daisy shrugged.
He managed a weak grin.
From then on, the rhythm of the house subtly shifted. The rules stayed, but softened, became flexible. That night, Edith and Alan wrote down a roster: wake by ten, two hours chores a day, always warn about outings, no phones at table. They pinned it to the fridge.
Its like a boarding camp timetable, William remarked.
Family camp, Edith replied.
Daisy proposed some rules of her own.
You cant call me every five minutes if Im at the river. And dont barge into my room, either.
We never do! Edith protested.
Write it anyway, William added. So its fair.
Two more lines joined the list. Alan grumbled but signed his name.
Soon, communal activities stopped feeling like chores. One evening, Daisy produced an old board gamea gift from their mother.
Lets play after dinner, she suggested.
I used to play that as a kid, William brightened.
Alan hesitated, muttering about chores in the garage, but soon joined, finding he knew the rules better than anyone. They laughed, squabbled over tokens, ribbed each otherphones forgotten somewhere on the side.
Cooking, too, became collaborative. Tired of deciding dinner, Edith declared one Saturday, You two cook. Ill just show you where things are.
Us? they gasped.
You. Pasta or beans on toast, whatever you like. Just edible, please.
They took it seriously. Daisy dug out a recipe online for some fashionable bake, William chopped vegetables, bickering amiably. Onions sizzled, pots piled up, but there was a brightness to it all, almost festive.
Dont be offended if everyone queues for the loo after this, Alan joked, but cleared his plate anyway.
With the garden, too, Edith found common ground. Instead of forcing daily chores, she appointed personal plots.
This row is yours, she told Daisy, pointing to a line of strawberries. This ones yours, to William, nodding at the carrots. Care for it or not; just dont moan if nothing grows.
Sounds like an experiment, William said.
Control and variable group, you mean? Daisy quipped.
Daisy checked the strawberries daily, photographing and posting about “my garden.” William watered the carrots once or twice, then forgot about them. By summers end, Daisys basket overflowed; Williams held two sad stubs.
Well then, Edith asked, learn anything?
Carrots arent for me, William said solemnly.
And they both laughedproperly.
By the close of summer, the house moved in its own, calm rhythm. Breakfast together. Then offsome cycling, some reading, a trip to the river. By midnight, William turned his light off himself, Ediths footsteps pausing to listen at his dooronly gentle breathing now. Daisy, if out with the neighbours girl at the river, always messaged her whereabouts and return time.
Of course, they still quibbled: over music, salt for the soup, when to do the washing up. But it no longer felt like a generation at war, just the give and take of under one roof.
The final evening before the return to London, Edith baked them an apple pie. The kitchen filled with cinnamon, the evening breeze fresh on the veranda. Bags were packed tidily, belongings ready.
Lets have a photo, Daisy suggested as the pie was cut.
Not for those profile-things again Alan began, but stopped.
Just for us, Daisy said. No sharing required.
They gathered in the garden as the sun dipped behind the orchard. Daisy balanced her phone on an upturned bucket, set the timer, dashed over.
Gran in the middle. Grandad right, Will left.
They shuffled togetherawkward, but close. Edith felt William brush her elbow, Alan edge a little nearer, Daisy’s arm around them.
Smile! Daisy laughed.
The phone clicked twice. Daisy retrieved it, beaming. Brilliant!
Lets see, Edith asked.
On the screen, they looked a little oddEdith with a flour-smeared apron, Alan in his worn shirt, Wills hair wild, Daisy in her sunflower tee. But something about the way they stood showed they were togethertruly a family.
Could you print that for me? Edith asked.
Of course, Gran, Daisy replied. Ill send it over.
How will I print it, if its on your phone? Edith wondered.
Ill help you. William grinned. Come visit, well do it together. Or Ill bring it at half-term.
She nodded, and quiet warmth spread through her chest. Not because they understood one another perfectlytheyd have many more arguments, she was surebut because somewhere, between their rules and freedoms, a path had formed for all of them.
Later, with the house dark, children curled in bed, Edith stepped onto the veranda. The English sky shimmered navy blue, scattered with rare bright stars. She drew her knees up, hugging them.
Alan came out, settling beside her.
Theyll be off tomorrow, he said.
They will, Edith agreed softly.
They sat in silence.
Well, he added eventually, it all turned out all right.
She smiled. And perhaps weve all learnt something.
Not sure whos taught whom, mind you, Alan chuckled.
She laughed quietly. In the childrens rooms, all was dark. Somewhere beside Williams pillow, the phone was charging, silent and slowly gathering strength for tomorrow.
Back in the kitchen, Edith glanced at the list of rules pinned to the fridge, its edges curled a little, the pen theyd used left nearby. She ran a finger over their signatures and wondered if, next summer, the list might change againsomething added, something taken out. The best of it, though, would remain.
She turned out the kitchen light and climbed to bed, heart full, sure that the house would breathe easy through the night, holding safe everything this summer had broughtand making space for all that would come.
