Ungrateful Daughters
Sarah, hunched over the garden bed, could feel sweat trickling annoyingly down her back, dampening her t-shirt. Her twin sister, Helen, groaned and muttered next to her, wrestling with a stubborn strand of hair under her baseball cap.
They were weeding the wretched strawberry patch.
Helen, why are we doing this? Sarah grumbled, dropping her trowel and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Were both allergic to strawberries! Why on earth are we the ones stuck doing this?
Because children should help their parents, Sarah mimicked their mothers voice, Mrs. Ann Miller, nailing the tone so perfectly that Helen couldnt help but smirk. Theyre getting on a bit while were ungrateful daughters.
The song of the ungrateful daughters was a favourite in their house. If the girls refused to back-break or weed, they were instantly ungrateful. And yet their best childhood years had been spent here in this vegetable patch.
Suddenly, laughter echoed from beyond the fence.
It was their old matesTom, Dave, and Alice. Theyd cycled over, ringing their bells, each one clutching bottles of fizzy drink, cheeks bright from the sun.
Oi, girls! Where dyou think youre hiding? Come out! Lets go for a bike ride! Were heading to the riverits lovely and warm! Already been to the shop, and Bills starting up the barbecue! Come on!
Go without us! Helen shouted back.
Mum and Dad wont let us! Sarah added.
Suit yourselves Alice called, rolling her eyes.
Helen nearly burst into tears with envy.
Id give anything to go with them she whispered, her mind already at the riverbank, the sizzle of barbecue, the golden July evening She squeezed her eyes shut but opened them again to the familiar, relentless garden.
Wishful thinking, said Sarah, sharper than she meant to be but trying to lighten the mood. Theres a mountain of work here. And did you forget what Mum said? No river until its all weeded! And if it rains, the weeds will grow twice as fast! Well have to start all over again in a week.
Yeah, and the strawberries are probably the easiest part, Helen sighed wearily, glancing over at the never-ending rows of potatoes, the wilted cabbage that looked more like an abandoned flower bed, and the greenhouse that was so stifling she was sure shed faint.
This isnt a veg patch, its practically a plantation, Helen muttered, holding back tears. You work and work, but its never done And as soon as you finish, you just start again
Sarah snorted, her mouth twisted in something closer to horror than a smile. For once, Helen was right. Calling it a garden was generousit was more like a small farming estate, sprawling across a good acre.
Their parents, Ann and John Miller, grew anything and everythingpotatoes, cabbages, even exotic varieties of tomatoes and cucumbers whose names even the girls, living half their lives with them, could never remember.
Some of it ended up on their table, but most was sold off at the local market for a bit of extra cash.
But to sell it, you needed to labour from dawn till dusk, come rain or shine, no matter how cheerfully your old schoolmates cycled by. And the daughters toiled alongside their parents. Since they could walk.
Sarah and Helen spent their entire childhood and youth slaving over those endless rows. They watched their friends in town, enjoying the summercinema trips, dances, campingwhile they could only dream of such a life
***
Now they were both well into their forties.
Each lived in the city, had families, jobs, hobbies even, and at last, something they never had as childrenthe right to rest.
But every year, as July approached, the old song began again:
Girls, come and give us a hand! Were getting on, you know, its too much for us now! The veg plots getting overrun! We cant manage without you!
Sarah and Helen would schedule their annual leave to suit the parents, putting aside city life, travel plans, everything, to set off to their obligatory exile in the countryside.
But annual leave wasnt limitless, and both had their own families by now. Their husbands wanted a break too. The kids were long bored of the countryside and begged for a holiday by the sea. The mere thought of more weeding made the sisters wilt.
But say no? That they never dared.
So the whole family, husbands, children, all turned up at Ann and Johns house for the entirety of July.
The first day was always a feast with plenty of tea and, of course, an evening in the garden shed with Johns homebrew, to shake off the road. The next morning, however, the holiday was over. At seven sharp, their mother would stand at the door with a cheerful Lets make a start, now youre all rested and well-fed!
After a month of this, no one even had the energy for annoyance.
Bending over the rows, Sarah heard her husband, Paul, cursing beneath the apple tree where he was tryingand failingto gather gooseberries from under the branches.
Paul, what are you groaning about over there? she called, raising her voice over the wind and rustling leaves. Leave those gooseberries, theyre not ripe. Pick the apples, at least! Theyre just dropping and rottingyou could make compote or jam out of them!
Sarah didnt believe her own words. If there was anything worse than sweating over weeds, it was turning the harvest into preserves in the stifling kitchen. Better let the caterpillars eat the lot.
Sarah, I cant go on like this! Paul grumbled, emerging from beneath the apple tree. My backs killing me! At this point, Id rather fork out maintenance than suffer another holiday here. I love you, darling, but this could be the end He dramatically collapsed onto the garden path.
Oh, dont be so melodramatic, Paul! Sarah snapped, I dont love it either. But what can you do? Theyre our parents! Imagine if they had to do it all themselves.
Theyd give it up, Paul replied. Which would do everyone a favour.
Paul! And dont forget youve promised to fix that shed roof as well.
Yes, dear. On my way.
Helens husband, George, was more relaxed. He lounged in a folding chair under the pear tree, sipping cold ginger beer their daughter had brought him and benignly watching his wife slave away. He was clever, cultureda true city gentlemanbut hard work was not in his nature. Or any work, for that matter.
George, couldnt you at least mow the lawn? Helen complained, fanning away the flies.
My dear Helen, do I look like a groundskeeper? George flashed a cheeky smile. Im a city manmy hands werent made for that sort of thing. Im here to inspire you ladies to new heights of productivity!
Comedian, that one.
Helen rolled her eyes.
George was a master of observation, fine words, and leaving the heavy lifting to someone else. He sometimes created the impression he was helpingbut rarely lifted a finger.
By the end of the holiday, nerves were understandably stretched thin. Sarah and Helen decided, desperately, something had to change.
Why are you doing all this? Sarah asked, seating their parents at the busy kitchen table where the family always gathered. How many more tomatoes, cucumbers, and potatoes do you need? Youre not getting any younger. You couldnt possibly eat it all, and selling it isnt essential. We could just give you money. Buy what you like, go on holiday! Forget the garden!
Yes, Mum, Helen chimed in, hoping this time theyd be heard. You dont need to wear yourselves out. Well help, of course! If you dont want cash, well hire someone. It wont cost muchless than all our health and time.
Oh, you and your silly ideas their mother tutted.
What do you mean, no garden? their father frowned. Money, helpers! Its not just about vegit gives us something to do! What would we do otherwise? Rot in front of the telly?
Well, Sarah hesitated, you could go to the theatre, cinema
Theatre isnt for us! Ann retorted. Were workers! And I never thought youd be so reluctant to help your parents.
And anyway, John added, who wants to be always waiting for money from someone else? Id rather earn my own keep.
Theyd had this conversation before. Last year. And three years before that.
But Dad, its hard on you! Helen tried again, not understanding her parents stubbornness.
Hard if you do nothing! John snapped. Were not dead yet!
But
You just want to buy yourselves off! Ann cried. You just dont want to work. I never thought helping your parents would seem such a burden to you. If not for the garden, you probably wouldnt come here at all.
The conversation ended there. Again.
***
A year later.
Summer loomed, as hopeful as ever.
Paul surprised Sarah with a trip to Italytheir long-dreamed escape.
Helen, having finally divorced her lazy George (hed never found a job, in any case), craved nothing but rest at home with her daughter, doing whatever took her fancy.
The sisters met over tea, catching up and discussing their summer plans. This time, it was a clear decisionthey had to tell their parents: not this year.
Usually they only visited at weekendsthe distance was their saving grace, or theyd never have had a proper summer or a single weekend to themselvesbut now, it was time to face their parents.
They didnt know quite how to begin.
Ann, squinting suspiciously, sensed trouble.
What are you two planning now?
Its nothing, Mum, Helen assured her. But this year, we wont be able to come for all of July. Nor August.
And why not? Mum demanded. Whats this? Have you lost all sense of decency?
Her tone sent them straight into defensive mode.
Mum, you knowthe trip to Italy is already paid for, weve all been looking forward to it. Pauls got annual leave tooIts been years since we had a real holiday
Didnt matter. Not a jot.
Dads face was a mask of disappointment.
Italy, is it! Mum sneered. And what about us? Dont we count? Are we just supposed to look after ourselves now? Is the garden meant to magically weed itself?
Mum, weve offered you money! Helen reminded her. Or you could always hire someonehalf the neighbours would do the work for a bit of cash!
Helpers just dont do it properly, John declared. They rush through, dont care. But youre familytheres heart in it with you
Dad, what heart is there in weeding potatoes? Sarah snapped.
Hard work is good for you.
Good for you? When youre breaking your back and your hands are blistered! Helen was incensed. Weve got jobs, too! And in our actual holiday, we want to rest. For once!
Rest when youre retired! Mum responded. While youre still strong, you can help your parents.
Were not refusing to help, but this is just too much
It was true.
No one could remember a proper holiday.
Too much! Ann repeated. Who looked after you when you were little? Who went without sleep so you were cared for? Who raised you, poured their heart into you? And now, ten days basking at a beach buffet is worth more than your parents?
Dont guilt-trip us! Sarah sighed, rubbing her temples. Were grateful, but there has to be a limit
And with that, voices were raised.
Their daughters had abandoned them. Their daughters didnt care. Their daughters were just lazy.
Fine! Sarah exclaimed, furious. Do what you like! Give the house to Mrs. Brown if you want, ignore us for all we care! Were not coming!
Oh, is that so? Well, dont expect forgiveness! snapped Ann.
Honestlywhatever!
***
Sarah and Paul flew to Italy. Best fortnight in years! Just them, the kids, the sea, the sunshine. The children were on their best behaviour all holiday toohappy for the change.
Helen made a retreat of her own at homelounging on the sofa, marathoning TV, reading, meeting friends, getting massages, not thinking about anything except what pleased her.
But as the holiday drew to an end, Sarah and Paul were back, children in tow, preparing to return to work, and Helen was beginning to restore her normal routinewhen the phone rang, turning everything upside down.
It was their father.
Helen, he said, sounding shaken. Come quickly. Your mothers not well. Shes in the hospital. Please, call Sarah.
Helens heart froze.
Within the hour, they were at the nearest hospital to the village.
There they found their father at once.
Whats wrong with her?
What happened to Mum?
Her heart?
A stroke?
Is she conscious?
Have you talked to her?
Can we see her?
Questions poured out, one over the other.
Its her heart, John said quietly. Out in the garden from six in the morning till three in the afternoon, under the sun. It just got too much.
Mum, it turned out, was not in such dreadful shape. Conscious, up in a normal ward, a bit pale perhaps, but nothing permanenta jump in blood pressure, nothing worse.
But she glanced at the daughters only briefly.
Oh, its you, she said. Come to watch your dying mother?
Mum, dont talk like that! Sarah cut her off. Youll be home in a couple of days. Youll be fine.
I dont know, girls, Ann sighed. Just cant take it anymore. Such a shame no one came to help
Helen clenched her jaw.
Mum, who asked you to push yourself so hard? We offered help, we said you could hire people! Theres no shortage of neighbours looking for summer work. Why not?
Help! Ann snapped. I dont need your help! Ill manage! If no one came, so be it. Im used to hard work.
You overdid it, Sarah muttered under her breath.
Sarah! Helen admonished.
What? What did I say? Sarah retorted.
Dont argue, not over me, Mum drawled dramatically, Im not worth it.
Sarah and Helen fell silent, knowing it was useless to reason.
Mum, well pay for everything, Helen promised. Medicine, treatmentanything. Just get better.
And well hire someone to help with the garden, Sarah added.
Ann said nothing.
Within a few days, she was well on the mend, and a week later, the doctors sent her home to finish recoveringfeeling strong, but under strict instructions not to overdo it.
Sarah and Helen hoped, finally, their parents would see sense.
But when they went to visit, the sight wasnt what theyd wanted. The two kindly ladies theyd arranged to help were nowhere to be seen, and Ann, heedless of the doctors, was already pottering about in the dirt, bent over her tomatoes.
Mum! What are you doing? Youre not supposed to!
I cant sit about with my hands idle! Those women dont do it right, its slapdash. Best to do it myself! Besides, Ive saved your moneywell use it for something useful. And if you really care about your parents, come and do the next row yourselves!
Arguing was pointless. She would always have her way.
