What do you need? Lizzie asked, eyebrows raised.
What could one possibly need at her own countryside cottage? Digging the beds, planting the usual suspects nothing out of the ordinary. Are you all right, Mum? Not feeling a bit lightheaded?
Mum had been rushed to the hospital almost straight after her husbands funeral, a flareup of ischaemic heart disease, precisely on the fortieth day after the burial.
Everyone took it as a natural course: the couple had lived happily, and Mum was terribly upset now that her husband was gone. So they all assumed that the sixtyyearold Mary Smith would be on her own. After all, the bloke was gone and, apparently, she didnt need anyone else.
Dad didnt linger he simply turned on his favourite sitcom and collapsed on the couch. They were just about to celebrate their silver wedding anniversary when, instead, they had to arrange a funeral.
From Dads estate there were a few things left: a threebedroom cottage and a decent piece of land, still being finished when Lizzie was just a toddle.
One weekend Lizzie drove out to the cottage planting season was looming and, shockingly, found a stranger wandering about, his face vaguely familiar. Of course it was the GP from the hospital where Mum had been staying!
Yes, a bloke in his sixties, supposedly a doctor, was ambling around the plot in nothing but his underpants.
The explanations were, of course, varied. Perhaps the kindly physician had turned up for a routine checkup, making sure his patient was still on the right track. Even though it had been almost six months since shed been discharged, a health screening was still timely, right?
But why was he strolling about in his knickers? And where was his stethoscope? Surely a doctor wouldnt be out there in his bloomers!
The sun was beating down, and strolling about a strangers garden in just underwear required a substantial dose of courage.
Mum met her daughter with a hint of annoyance:
What do you want?
Lizzie repeated, What do you want? clearly surprised.
What could be needed at my own cottage? Just a bit of gardening, planting the usual nothing special!
Are you feeling okay, Mum? Not getting a sunstroke?
Mum, Mary, simply nodded. Im fine. So why are you asking, love?
Whats the problem, then? Mum said calmly, looking at her daughter.
The doctorGP, about sixty, stepped closer and gave a polite greeting. He seemed utterly unfazed by the fact that he stood there in his underpants opposite a sprightly thirtyfiveyearold woman. Apparently, his composure was rather impressive.
Lizzie gave a small nod, wrapped up the conversation, felt a mix of embarrassment and curiosity, and slipped back into the house. She wasnt quite sure what to do next.
She didnt want to bolt straight away that would be like fleeing the battlefield before any fighting began. But staying? Surely she wasnt about to start dressing up for a night out! She imagined herself still wandering the plot, waving a garden fork, just as Gran used to say.
She gulped some water and decided she must get to the bottom of it. Why was this man behaving as if he were at home? And what were Mums plans with him?
Hes basically part of the family, Mum explained. And our plans? Big ones were getting married!
Hold on, youre actually getting married? Lizzie gasped. What about Dads memory and eternal love? Wasnt there a song about that?
We could marry crookedly! Mary chuckled, almost laughing at herself. And you, Lizzie, stop hovering about the mans too shy!
Shy? Good heavens, shy! Lizzie thought, flustering. Imagine what would happen if he werent embarrassed
She blurted out loud, Can he be shy somewhere else? And why on earth is he in his underpants?
What else? Mum said, halfserious. Hed be uncomfortable without his trousers!
We love each other, and everything will be joint now: my house is his house!
Honestly, youd be better off moving away!
What? Why? Lizzie protested. I have a right to claim my inheritance! Im entitled to a share of the property!
It turned out things werent as rosy as they seemed. The cottage and land were legally registered solely in Mums name she was the only owner of the cottage and the plot. Dads name didnt appear on any title! Hence, there was no inheritance to split.
Better you go, Lizzie! Here youre nobody, while Im sorting out my love life!
Lizzie sank onto a bench, feeling, indeed, like a nobody if Mum wasnt lying, of course. But why would Mum lie?
The plot had also been given to Lizzies grandmother years ago by the councils housing scheme everyone got a plot back then. The cottage had been started before the granddaughter was even born, and finished while she was a toddler.
Why are you the only registered owner? the younger woman asked.
Well, your father never cared about material things! He lived in his head! Mary replied cheerfully.
During the whole chat, the rather bald doctor paused his digging hed started to till the beds, all businesslike.
Now, leaning on his spade, he nodded with his bald crown, as if saying, Im fully on board, dear.
There was a deep, almost moral satisfaction in his eyes and not just moral.
The seedlings, laid out in the sun, stared back at Lizzie, who sat silently beside them, wondering if she should just leave.
On paper, she had no claim to the cottage shed been a child when the deeds were drawn up, and a child wasnt listed as an owner.
Lizzie, in a kind of stupor they often spent holidays at the cottage left without a proper goodbye, heading back home.
One thought kept looping in her head: why was Mum acting like this, and why the sudden, fierce hostility toward her daughter? Could the strange GP be to blame?
At the same time, she realised the cottage had gone a bit pear-shaped, as Gran used to say. Something that should never have happened had happened. In short, a repeat of the impossible.
Then she thought perhaps this wasnt the only hidden snag.
Maybe something would go wrong with the flat she also owned a share of. Mum had suddenly turned into a resourceful, clever woman.
Mark, her husband, was spooked by his wifes sudden appearance she usually didnt return until Sunday night. It was only Saturday noon now.
Whats up with Mary? Mark asked, his voice thin after hearing about Mums heart condition.
Lizzie and Mark had been married ten years; their eightyearold daughter, Ruby, spent her school holidays at the granddads cottage. That weekend, the second grandma Marks mum had taken Ruby away.
Lizzie grimaced and told her husband the sad news: Looks like the cottage isnt ours! And the flat is a mess too!
Ah, the motherinlaw! Mark chuckled. Even an ischaemic heart attack cant stop a good drama!
Dont you forget your mums surname, doc? Lizzie asked, trying to recall the doctors full name.
Rivers Dr. Rupert Rivers! she remembered. I even spoke to him once about Mum.
But without his white coat and stethoscope, he looked like a completely different person
Mark poked around the internet and discovered that Rupert Rivers was married!
So how does he plan to marry Mum? Lizzie wondered.
Divorce, perhaps! Polygamy isnt allowed here, Mark guessed. But we should talk to Mary about it.
Lets drive over to Marks friend the solicitor who never loses a case. Hes practically the devils advocate.
Victor Hughes, a topnotch barrister, explained that they could try to settle everything amicably, or otherwise head to court. After all, the cottage and land were bought during marriage, and regardless of whose name was on the title, it counted as joint property Mum hadnt built it all on her own money.
Feeling a bit uplifted, the couple drove back to the cursed cottage to negotiate and, as Victor put it, forge some iron without losing our mind.
Negotiations fell apart. This time Mum wouldnt even let them in! She wasnt about to argue with an older woman who had a dodgy heart!
Then well sue! Mark shouted over the garden fence.
Do as you like! the doctorGP declared, fully stepping into the role of owner.
And so they lodged a claim.
Mums fury rose like a tide: You want to take Mum to court? My husbands corpse is turning over in his coffin because his widow is causing all this! Im not going to stand by while you bring in a married man to my garden!
Lizzie snapped, Youve never even mourned properly you dragged a married bloke onto our land! Disgraceful!
Nothing you do will help, Mary roared, parking her car and making a scene. The cottage is mine, not up for division! Youll get a slice of the flat, but dont even look at the cottage!
Mark would divorce, well marry, and live there in summer! No court will side with you! Go buy your own place instead of begging for a bite of ours!
Lizzie felt ashamed to drag everything to court, yet she saw no other way Mary refused any outofcourt settlement.
In the end, the court granted Lizzie a quarter of the cottage and a quarter of the flat; the rest went to Mum.
It wasnt a miracle, but it was something.
Mary screamed like a wounded animal, refusing to let her daughter onto the property. She simply would not allow it.
The judge ordered the whole lot to be sold, the proceeds split according to inheritance shares, or the parties could buy each other out.
Lizzie offered to buy the cottage from Mum. Selling it to Mum seemed odd, but Mary finally agreed shed been nudged by someone else.
A notarised agreement was drawn up: if Lizzie bought the cottage, she would give up her share of Mums twobed flat. Divide and conquer, they said.
Thus Mum became sole owner of the flat plus a nice sum for the share she sold, while Lizzie walked away with the cottage.
Mark vanished! He quit his job at the hospital, probably bitter that the cottage didnt end up his, or perhaps his pension had run out.
Money didnt fix everything; now they could divorce and throw a new wedding in a fancy restaurant with a DJ. But there was no one left to sort it out.
Mary, still battling her heart condition, ended up without medical supervision
Lizzie and Mary patched things up after the mysterious lover vanished. Mum suddenly returned to being the loving mother, grandmother, and motherinlaw she once was. Everything became shared again: the flat, the cottage
Mary explained her odd behaviour as a temporary cloud of confusion, Mercury in retrograde, and a rogue asteroid brushing past Earth.
And really, you can blame everything on solar flares thats a foolproof excuse!
If the asteroid ever hits, well just have to dodge it.
