Taught Mother a Lesson
What on earth are you doing?! shrieked Margaret Simmons. This is my land!
The lands yours! her son-in-law Robert bellowed, tearing off a metal sheet with a crash. But that fence? Thats mine! I bought it, all the receipts are in my boot! The claddings mine, too! Im taking the windows as well!
Michael! Please, do something! Margaret darted to her sons side. Hell tear the whole house down!
I remember Margaret sitting in the kitchen, her expression one of a martyr, as a scene unfolded before her daughter-in-law and son.
Thats it, my dears, her voice trembled. Ive decided. I cant keep up with the cottage anymore. My strength is gone, and my health isnt what it was.
Shed started lamenting the journeyto take the train, rattle along the rails, and march three miles through the fields.
Last time, her blood pressure had shot up so high shed nearly blacked out.
Take it. Its yours. Enjoy it, build, rest to your heart’s content!
Michaels face lit up in an instant. Ever since childhood, he remembered those scant quarter-acre plots: overgrown with raspberries, bordered by a wonky fence, and a tiny cottage Granddad had cobbled together from whatever could be found in the eighties.
Mum, come on, he beamed, stepping towards the table. Its brilliant! Alice, did you hear? Well have a real garden! And Ill fix up the cottage, redo the porch myself.
Alice slowly turned her head. Seven years in this family had taught her: when Margaret offered something for free, it came with a hefty catch.
Mrs. Simmons, this isum, quite sudden, Alice said quietly. But lets clear up the paperwork up front.
Will you transfer it to Michael as a gift, or are we doing another way?
A heavy silence settled. Michael gave Alice a reproachful glance; his mother, too, slowly raised her eyes.
Alice, you are so practical, Margaret intoned, stressing the last word. Im offering this from the heart, with my blessing, and you start on about paperwork and the land registry
Im your mother! If I said its yours, its yours. Whats the point of formalities? Just wasted money spent on solicitors
Actually, Margaret, Alice took a seat opposite her, the cottage is in dreadful condition.
The fence is collapsing, the shed roof leaks, and the floorboards have rotted. To make it liveable, wed need at least £5,000 or £7,000.
And I cant invest our savings in a property that doesnt legally belong to us.
You could easily change your mind, and then were penniless.
Margaret pressed her hands to her chest in outrage. Michael! Do you hear? she wailed. Your wife accuses me of being mercenary! Meyour own mother!
Alice, thats going too far, Michael grumbled. Mums handing it to us.
No, Michael. Have her put it in your namethen, tomorrow, Ill hire a crew and order supplies. If not, those raspberries can overrun the place for all I care.
The row lasted nearly two hours. Margaret wept, spoke of her late husband, accused Alice of a capitalist attitude, and finally threw them out, declaring she wouldnt trust such calculative people with even an old bucket.
Two weeks on, over Sunday roastMichaels sister Irene and her husband George presentMargaret declared grandly:
As Michael doesnt want the cottage, Ive given it to Irene. George is so handy, theyve already drafted a plan for repairs.
Michael sat sulkier than a storm cloud all evening, scrolling through photos of country homes, sighing dramatically. Alice quietly ate her salad, knowing the curtain had just risen.
***
Irene and George dove in with gusto. All June, the family chat buzzed with reports:
Weve ordered the picket fence!
Three tonnes of gravel delivered!
George dug a trench for the septic tank himself!
See? Michael grumbled at home, tossing his phone on the sofa. Some people get on with it. Were too busy worrying about being tricked. Not afraid at allnow theyll have a lovely cottage to show for it.
We shall see, Michael, replied Alice calmly. Time will tell.
By August, the cottage was transformed. The old house was clad in crisp panelling, the roof sported shining new tiles, and a sturdy brick-pillared fence ringed the plot.
George even rolled out a swathe of instant turf and set up a handsome swing seat.
Everyone was invited to the grand opening. Margaret held court on the new terrace in a sun-lounger, fanning herself.
Well, my dears, she sang, taking a cool drink from Irene. Isnt it gorgeous? Irene, George, thank you! It does ones heart good. Alice, just look at that fence!
George, thinner and haggard after two months hard graft, approached the table.
Yes, Mum, its been hard work. At least now its safe for the children. By the way, Ive put all the paperwork in a folderreceipts for the supplies, the boiler warranty.
Lets pop into town Monday, shall we? To the Town Hall? You promised, once we finished, that youd sign the cottage over to Irene.
Margaret suddenly seemed terribly interested in her pedicure.
Oh, George, she cooed. Why the rush? Why bother with all that? Just enjoy it! Im not turning you out, am I?
Irene frowned, setting her vegetable dish on the table.
Mumwhat do you mean, enjoy it? That wasnt our agreement. We put nearly all our savings into this. George even took out a small loan for the supplies, to get it done before autumn. You said: Finish the work, and its yours.
I said you could have use of it, Margaret clarified. Which you haveyou come whenever you like. But signing it over
My dear, life is unpredictable. George is your husband todaytomorrow, who knows?
And a cottagewell, its a familys nest. It should stay in the familyheld by me. Thats much safer.
A charged silence fell on the garden. Even the woods behind the house went mute.
So George stood slowly. So none of this is really ours? The £1,500 fence, the septic tank, the roof?
How do you mean not yours? Margaret said, surprised. Of course its yours! Youre using it, arent you? Ill even let you plant cucumbers next year.
But Ill remain the owner. Thats how I prefer it. Argue, and Ill take the keys. I have every right!
Every right?! Irene burst out. Weve worked until our backs broke, in constant debt, and now you treat us as lodgers?!
Dont shout at your mother! Margaret snapped. Listen to you! Wanting everything handed to you, then grumbling about it!
Handed to us?! George exploded. It was all rotting! Every nail was hammered in by me!
He spun on his heel and strode towards the shed.
George, where are you going? called Irene.
Getting the tools!
A minute later, he returned with a crowbar and drill. Without a word, he went to the fence and began unscrewing the bolts with a vengeance. Michael made to step in, but Alice laid a gentle hand on his arm.
Let them sort it, Michael. Not our business.
Watching George tear down the fence, Irene seized a spade and attacked the rose bed Margaret had cherished.
Here, enjoy! she cried, wrenching up a bushroots and all.
The scene dissolved into chaos. George worked methodically: fence down, he moved to the terrace. The polycarbonate sheets ripped away with a crack.
Margaret darted between them, trying to grab George by the shirt or shield the newly painted door.
Im phoning the police! she shrieked, brandishing her mobile. This is theft! Outrage! Ill have you locked up, you sorry excuse for a son-in-law!
Ring them! George flung a scrap of plastic into the car boot. Let them see how a family matriarch fleeced her own kin!
The police arrived within half an hour. A tired-looking constable surveyed the scene: half the plot without a fence, stacks of supplies by the gate, a weeping woman on the steps.
Whats happened here? he asked.
Im being burgled! Margaret pointed at George. Hes destroyed my property! Stolen the fence! Hes tearing up the porch!
George approached, calm, and handed over a folder. Officer, here are my receipts. All in my name. Theres no rental agreement, nor a deed of gift. This woman says I have no claim.
So Im removing what I bought myself. Im not dismantling the house, just taking whats mine.
The officer paged through the documents at length, checked dates, then looked at Margaret.
Madam, this is a civil matter. If he has paperwork proving these are his possessions, theres no crime here. File a claim in court.
What court?! Margaret wailed. Hell take everything away!
Hes entitled to, if its his, the officer said curtly. And you, sir, careful with the structuredont take any doors off.
The police left. George loaded all he could into the caron the roof, in the boot.
The cottage, once a picture, now looked bombed out: a battered shack instead of a neat cottage, ragged earth with post holes.
Irene slammed the car door, revving the engine.
Thats it, mother. Youre the sole mistress of the place. Enjoy your solitude. You wont see us again!
The car roared away in a cloud of dust. Margaret remained standing in the middle of her ancestral home.
She turned to Michael and Alice, whod watched the drama unfold from a safe distance.
At least you she croaked. Mikey, darling Help your mother. Did you see what theyve done?
Irenes lost her senses, George is a brute Come on, you can do anything. Bring some planks, lets get some kind of fence up
Michael looked at his mother.
You know, mum, he said softly, Alice was right. You werent giving us the cottage. You were trying to keep me on a leash.
Did you want us bowing and scraping all our lives for the privilege of mowing the grass?
How could you say such a thing? Margaret clutched at her chest. I did it for you!
No, mum. For yourself. Lets go, Alice.
They got into their car. In the rear-view, Alice caught a glimpse of Margaret sinking onto the old bench, face hidden in her hands.
That evening, Michael sat in the kitchen, staring out the window as Alice cooked supper.
Alice, he called quietly.
Yes?
Im sorry. I really thought you were making a fuss. We nearly ended up in a mess of debt
She came to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
Forget it, Mike. At least you see it now.
Ive been thinking he hesitated. Tomorrow, Ill go to the jewellers. I saw a bracelet once, the one with garnets that you liked. I want to get you something. For being so wise.
Alice smiled.
A gift is nice. But lets agreeno more gifts from your mother. They cost too much, as weve found out.
Agreed. Michael pulled her closer. Ive already changed my number. Let her handle her ancestral home herself for now.
***
Margaret never did sort the place outwhen she finally realised she couldnt fix it up with others hands, she sold it.
Neither son nor daughter speaks to her now. To the extended family, Michael and Irene are painted as the villains.
Margaret never shares the full storyshe simply says that the children she gave life to, turned their backs on her.
