Dont even think about staying on my cottage all summer, my brother announced, as if it were a polite invitation.
Id lost the ability to speak without cursing. No! Id had enough of these uninvited guests; it was time to evict them.
When I hauled the seedling boxes out of the boot, a familiar calm settled over me. My tiny green sanctuarysix hundred square metres of peace. Yet something was off. From beyond the fence came the muffled thrum of a popsong, and at the gate I froze. The lock lay in pieces, as if it had been ripped out with a slab of meat.
What on earth? I muttered, giving the gate a push.
What greeted my eyes looked more like a setpiece from a gardenhorror film. My brothers wife, Poppy, lounged in my hammock, queen of anyones deck chairs. In one hand she clutched a glass of pink fizz, in the other a smartphone. She was draped in the same fluffy bathrobe my colleague had given me for my fortyfifth birthday. My barbecue sputtered and smoked in the background.
Ian! My shout was so highpitched that blossoms fell from the nearest apple tree.
Ian emerged from behind the garden shed, brandishing my pruning shears. His Tshirt, emblazoned with Beer Me, Please clung betrayingly to his waist.
Oh, Toni! he grinned, as if breaking into someone elses home was perfectly normal. We thought wed surprise you.
You broke the lock? I let the seedling bags thud to the ground.
I uh it just fell off, Ian scratched his head. It sort of gave way on its own.
From the shrubbery hopped a lanky youngster in orange shorts.
Auntie Toni! Do you have a net? Were catching lizards tonight!
I squinted. It was my eldest nephew, Vicky, or perhaps BobbyI always mixed them up.
You you broke my house? I enunciated each word as if I were taking an angermanagement class.
Ah, Toni, youre finally here! Poppy finally managed to swing herself up from the hammock.
Her robe slipped, revealing sunkissed legs.
We decided to breathe a little life into this place without you! she declared.
Poppy, youre in my robe, I hissed through clenched teeth.
Its so soft! she cooed, stroking the lapel like it were a mink coat. Why is it hanging there? A robes meant to be worn!
A roar and a chorus of shrieks came from the open windows of the house.
My books are being destroyed? I recognised the sound instantly.
My collection of Agatha Christie novels, which I kept on the cottage for leisurely reading, was tumbling off the shelves.
Kids were playing, Ian grimaced. They built a fort out of them. Very symbolic, really.
Symbolic? I raised an eyebrow. You know whats also symbolic? That I asked you not to come without meespecially after you set my summer shed on fire last time!
The candle fell on its own, we were having a romantic evening! Ian protested. And that was last year. Weve grown up a lot since then.
Yes, yes, Poppy nodded. Ive taken up psychology. And you know what I see? Your problems with your brother are just echoes of childhood wounds!
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. It didnt help. I counted to twenty.
Pack your things and leave, now, I said as calmly as possible.
But we just arrived! Ian shouted. And the meat
Leave the meat and get out, I turned toward the car. And check if youve accidentally taken my silver forks.
Your forks are ours now! Ian called after me. The metal isnt even real!
I slipped into the drivers seat, my hands shaking with fury, and turned the key.
***
After sending the trespassers packing, I poured myself a strong cup of tea with a biscuit. And cried, damn it all.
For seven years Id been scrimping, saving every penny, until I finally bought my dream cottage. I planted hydrangeas, sipped coffee from my grandmothers china, and tended the vegetable beds. Most importantly, it was *my* placenot ours with my exhusband, not family. Mine. Full stop.
My reverie was shattered by the phone ringing.
Sweetheart, said my mother, Galina, a selfappointed family therapist with a diploma in everything for the kids and a doctorate in lets not argue. Why are you fighting with your brother?
I sighed deeply.
Mom, they broke into my house.
Maybe the lock was just faulty, she suggested.
It was completely smashed, I said, fighting the urge to bang my head on the table.
Its just a lock, love. Your brothers a good lad, the only person who truly understands you, she cooed. Hes struggling, you know?
If hes my soulmate, then I must be an atheist, I muttered. Theyve trashed everything. Poppys in my robe, the kids are building forts out of my books as if they were LEGO bricks!
Theyre just kids, theyll be mischievous, my mother replied.
Theyre twelve, youre calling them little barbarians! I snapped.
She only sighed.
Right, right, I get it. You dont like your nephews, you dont like your brother, you dont like me either, she said dramatically, pausing for effect. All of us.
I hung up, the classic mothermove of switching from facts to guilt.
Im going to bed, I said, exhausted. Work tomorrow.
Think about it, love, she urged. Theyre family. Doesnt it hurt?
I hit the end button and flopped onto the sofa, wondering what else my brother could possibly do to win Mom over.
***
Ian was not one to give up. He texted: How about we spend the whole summer at the cottage? Poppy would love it, the kids would have a blast.
I set the phone down, poured myself a cup of black coffeeno sugar, just pure bitternessto feel the full weight of the moment.
All summer? ALL OF IT? Three months?
At first I wanted to call Ian and tell him exactly what I thought of him, his wife, and their offspring.
Calm down, Toni, I told myself out loud. Youre an adult, you can handle this.
I nodded at my reflection and lifted the handset.
Ian, are you serious about the whole summer? I asked as soon as he answered.
Why not? he replied, his voice as relaxed as if he were lounging on my own deck chair.
Youre not against it? Youre being nice.
Im nice, but not a fool, I snapped. This is my cottage.
Listen, youre odd, Ian sniffed. What does it matter? Were just looking after the property for you.
Remember when you helped Poppy trim the roses for her friends wedding? I reminded him.
So what? he asked, genuinely puzzled. The friend was thrilled.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, counted to ten, then to a hundred. It didnt help.
Poppy wants to say something! Ian added cheerfully.
A rustle and a scuffle came through the speaker.
Toni! Poppy sang in a voice as sugary as a TV advert. The boys love your cottage, the fresh air is brilliant for them. Be a good aunt, wont you?
Poppy, this is my private property. Youre here without permission. If youd asked, maybe Id have let you stay, I replied calmly, as if explaining to a child why you cant eat sand.
See? If Id said yes, everything would be fine.
Talking to her felt pointless.
Fine then, I said, feigning tranquillity. Enjoy yourselves.
Are you upset, Toni? Ian suddenly asked, reappearing on the line.
No, I replied with a smile he couldnt see. Im going to sort this out.
***
The estate agency smelled of stale coffee and desperationmostly mine. Behind the desk, a poised lady flipped through photos of my cottage on a tablet.
Are you sure you want to sell? she asked, eyes narrowing. Theres a decent market for properties like this.
Yes, absolutely, I nodded so hard my neck ached. The sooner, the better.
She raised an eyebrow.
Rushing?
Im shedding excess baggage, I said, grinning like a martyr. Ive got new goals.
Like throwing your brother out of your life? she mused silently.
The propertys sound, she replied, scrolling. I already have a potential buyer.
I breathed a sigh of reliefeverything was falling into place.
***
The prospective buyer turned out to be Mr. Arthur Whitcombe, a respectable gentleman in his early fifties with a silver foxs coat and eyes that could chill the tropics. He examined the photos, asked three sensible questions, and said:
Ill take it.
Dont you want to see the land in person? I asked, trying not to sound eager.
I trust the pictures, he shrugged. And your honesty.
I felt a pang of humility.
You see I sometimes have relatives dropping by, I confessed.
Is that a problem? his gaze stayed steady.
Not a legal one, I replied, just it could get awkward.
Its irrelevant to me, he said. Im buying the estate, not the family drama. When can we sign?
We arranged for the upcoming Saturday. That was the very day Ian had planned a grand picnic for all the neighbours.
He hadnt told merumours had drifted through Mom. Hed probably break the lock again and pull a surprise.
Well, brother, lets see who ends up laughing.
***
When we arrived, the plot buzzed like a beehive. Neighbours cars lined the drive, an inflatable pool floated on the lawn, music blared, barbecues hissed, children shrieked. A proper celebration of life.
Is it always like this here? Arthur asked, stepping out of his black 4×4.
Only when the brother shows up, I sighed.
We pushed through the gate, and the first person we saw was Poppy, emerging from the house with a massive bowl of salad.
Toni! she shouted. We didnt expect you!
My plans have changed, I smiled. Meet Arthur Whitcombe, and Victor Simmons, a solicitor.
Delighted! Poppy beamed. Youre friends of Toni? Or?
She winked suggestively.
Something more?
Im the new owner of this cottage, Arthur said calmly.
Poppys smile froze, salad bowl still in hand.
What do you meanowner?
Thats exactly what it means, Victor explained. Ms. Clarke sold this plot to Mr. Whitcombe. Here are the documents.
He slapped the paperwork together.
But how? Poppy paled. Ian!
From behind my own barbecue (yes, *my* barbecue) Ian materialised, apron on, kebab skewer in hand, a grin of a man who owned the world.
Toni! he yelled triumphantly. We thought youd turned us away!
Id wave my hand if I could, I muttered.
Ian, Toni sold the cottage! Poppy exclaimed.
Ian froze, skewer midair.
What?
I sold it, I repeated slowly, clearly. Arthur Whitcombe is the new owner. Victor is here to finalise everything.
I braced for a screamfest, accusations, a courtroom drama. Instead, Ian lowered his arms and asked quietly:
Why?
The question caught me off guard.
Because you occupied my home without permission, I said. Because you assume anything I own is automatically yours. Because you disregard my boundaries. Im fed up. Its easier to get rid of this cottage than to keep fighting.
What now? Ian asked, eyes downcast.
Now you pack up and leave, Arthur intervened. Right now. This is private property.
We were planning to live here all summer! Poppy protested. We even have a tent!
Take it with you, Arthur replied. I dont like guests.
Ian ripped off his apron and flung it onto the grass.
This was a cursed trap all along! Driving here, digging in these beds Normal people fly off to Cyprus, not muck about in garden beds!
Fine then, I said. Off to Cyprus you go.
You you Ian stammered, searching for a retort. Youre cruel! This is our family nest!
From where did that come? I crossed my arms. I bought it with my own money. Your contribution was a remark: Why do you need a cottage?
Poppy grabbed Ians elbow.
Lets go. Its clear now. She turned to me and added, Youll regret this, Toni.
I doubt it, I smiled. At least I wont have to watch you turn my garden into a battlefield.
At that moment the nephews bounded out of the house, followed by a handful of neighbour kids.
Auntie Toni! We were bouncing on the sofa like a trampoline!
On the sofa?! I gasped. Have you lost your minds?
Enough, Arthur said sharply. Im calling the police. Youve got half an hour to clear out.
He fished out his phone and dialled dramatically. The terror on Ian and his wifes faces was the perfect reward for years of patience.
***
Toni, love, how are you? Mom asked from across the kitchen table, eyes scanning my face. No regrets?
No, Mum. Not a single one, I replied honestly.
And the brother still sulking? she sighed.
Hell get over it, I shrugged. He has a talent for justifying himself in any situation.
Two months slipped by after the sale. Ian didnt call, I didnt call him. It was the longest silence between us since he learned to ask why the sky is blue and where babies come from.
Hes still your brother, Mom said, now without that familiar pressure.
I know, I nodded. Ill always be his sister, but that doesnt mean I have to endure his shenanigans.
She sat silent, tea cup in hand.
What will you do with the money from the cottage?
I havent decided. Save it, maybe splurge a little, I said breezily. Spending it isnt exactly a brilliant idea.
In fact, Id already spent itbought a brandnew cottage in a different county and was now setting it up. I wasnt about to tell Mum, let alone give her the address.
Id learned a simple truth: whenever something good appears in your life, there will always be someone who wants to ruin it. But the second time around, I wasnt going to let that happen.
