They say that old grudges linger long after the garden fences have rusted, and I have often thought of those days when my motherinlaw, Agnes Whitby, used to thunder about the soil and the shovels. I still remember the sharpness of her voice as if it were the clang of a smiths hammer.
What garden? What are you muttering about? I asked, rolling my eyes for effect. You keep saying my hands sprout from the same place as my legs!
It would have been better if I had neither, for she swore she would roll the garden into asphalt after I was gone.
Enough, dear, Agnes snarled, her brow furrowing. You neednt be frightened! With a spade youll manage just fine.
You flatter me, you do! I huffed, shaking my head. Youve praised me to the point of blushing!
She raised her voice, demanding, Will you help me in the garden, Mabel?
How, the last time? I retorted. And after that, what? Shall we go mute?
Her mouth twisted. Your tongue has no bone! If you swing a spade youll look as if you were brandishing a tongue! She pointed at the plot. Come, Ill show you what must be done.
What can I possibly do? I recoiled. You told me last time you didnt want my eyes on you!
She reminded me that I endured her tirades for the sake of my son, Billy, and that I would not be allowed to blister my own eyes on her sacred plot.
I must look after my dear motherinlaw, after all, I muttered.
A scamp, you are! Agnes shouted. I shall try to survive somehow! Ill demonstrate the work and will not stand in your way. My eyes shall be fine.
Is that so? Youre full of tricks! I replied with a wry smile. You asked for help and now you bring chaos. You wanted my hands to join yours, yet you never even noticed me in the picture!
If we stood nose to nose on a single bed, I might have thought otherwise, but to turn over your entire farm without any guidance or kind wordno, I would not consent.
And if I were to do something wrong, you would eat me alive! Why should I stay, when there is no love between us?
I decided to sit by the kitchen fire while Billy steamed in the bathhouse.
Youre babbling nonstop! Agnes fumed. You could have finished everything ages ago! Young, healthy, strong
Thanks for the compliment! I laughed broadly. My motherinlaw still has plenty of vigor and energy. She scales hills, performs feats! Yet a month ago she shouted at me, and to this day my left ear still rings from the outburst.
The power of her voice was something to envybright and white, she claimed. Do not worry! I mean it from the bottom of my heart!
Mabel, Ill tell Billy you refused to go to the garden, that you turned down my help, Agnes threatened. Do you think hell simply forgive and forget?
Where did I refuse? I demanded. Im eager, just give me the chance! Ill be a marvel of assistance, as good as any motherinlaw.
The same coin Id toss at you, and then some more, because for my dear motherinlaw I spare nothing! Are you sorry?
What are you sorry for? Agnes asked, bewildered.
Last summer, Billy and I broke our backs working on your farm, and you rewarded us with curses instead of a harvest! I cried. Sure, youre grateful we lost weight and built muscle, but we needed a proper meal, not just the pain of labour.
If memory serves, youre pained by the thought of us straining our backs and hands so we dont have to cart jars on a bus, I added. Now we have a car, a free boot, and well haul your garden produce if we must plough and sow again this year. If not, dismiss us! The desire is gone.
Youre vindictive! Agnes snapped.
It was never my thought, I replied. I have plenty to do without your garden. My husband disappears without a word, my sweet son aches for a mother.
Will I have to tend another garden? I asked, looking straight into her eyes. Answer me, for I know not what to say!
Youre a mother yourself! You should understand! she chided. Katherine needs help! I prepared the harvest and canned the jam for her. She raises two daughters alone! And youwhat of your husband?
Why not drive Katherine and her girls onto your plot? They come for the harvest, so let them work there! I wont interfere, not even step on their toes! All for your own pleasure!
Oh, Billy chose! Oh, what a curse! Agnes muttered, shaking her head. Either a bane or something worse.
Youre still coddling me with sweet words! I smiled. Why not call me a serpent? It feels more natural and calmer.
Or perhaps youve grown fond of me? I said, Then I shall go and confess. Perhaps youll already be sending me off to the guest room!
Spit! Agnes shouted.
Whats that about? I feigned surprise. Didnt you prophesy Billys fate as a widower just to rid him of me?
***
I married John, not his whole brood. I loved him, respected him, and wanted to spend my days with him, to watch our grandchildren grow old. The endless clan of his relatives existed only in my imaginationuntil reality proved otherwise.
My parents were welltodo, though not rolling in gold as the gossiping relatives claimed. They gave me a flat as a wedding present. Their modest livestock business brought a steady income, but it was earned by hard, sweaty work. You could move mountains with foreign hands, but money earned without ones own sweat always feels light.
When Billys hands reached for my parents purse, they would have become his own, but Billy loved me, not my parents money. He only learned of it at the wedding. The wedding itself we funded together.
Billys attitude never changed after he learned about money. He simply said, Mabel, if we truly need money, lets first try to earn it ourselves. If that fails, then well ask for help. He kept his word. Three years after the wedding, when our son needed a cot, a pram, a baby bath, we turned to my parents for support. Billy insisted on a written agreement; the solicitor shrugged it off, and Billy repaid the debt honestly.
How did Billy become such a man in a mercenary family? Perhaps a neighbours influence. Agnes Whitby had given birth out of wedlock, though she swore the father was the same as that of her older daughter, Katherine.
The truth remains her burden. No matter how hard she tried, she could not spoil Billy. A few wretches would have sufficed.
When the secret of the parents condition surfaced, greedy hands reached for my cat. Billy would not have followed. He handed them this outright:
Before the wedding Ill help a little, but after the wedding my family and my budget are my own. If the wife agrees, Ill give a penny; if not, Ill ask for nothing.
I saw through their scheming. Following my husbands example, I did not send them to fields, meadows, hills, or marshes. Instead I drove them to my parents pig farm.
Gentlefolk! Work here is endless and wellpaid. You can combine it with your main jobs. The pigs eat, but someone must clear the endless waste! The cousins and aunt declined, though they held a low opinion of my husband.
Excuse me! Ill take the money myself!
When the sisterinlaw was hinted where she would be taken, she cut off all contact with me and Billy in an instant. She had enough adventures already: finding a father for two angels, not dealing with pigs.
Our kind motherinlaw, Agnes, after hearing of the sisters and nephews exploits, decided to act smarter and craftier.
The girls still young, hence bold! She just got married! Life will test her, and her wages will vanish. Then well start squeezing juice from her! She was patient, waiting for the youngsters to settle, have children, and circle through endless cares, all the while keeping a friendly neutrality.
Grandson Andrew turned five when Agnes thought to push her advantage.
She already knew I had no access to my parents money, and that Billy could not be forced. Where money cannot be taken, you can bargain with goods! she mused.
Agnes lived in a modest cottage on the edge of a hamlet soon to be swallowed by the expanding town of Middleton. The real prize was her impressive garden, and she resolved to draw upon my strength there.
I, too, grew up in a similar village where my parents kept a small pig farm. Though I worked as an accountant in the city, I could wield a spade or swing a rake with ease.
When Agnes asked for help, both Billy and I volunteered. We took two weeks of leave to plant everything, then another two weeks to weed and prune, spending weekends hauling and hoeing.
It was unclear who reaped more loss when Agnes harvested the crop.
Youre a family of two, both working! Why need you? Katherine, however, raises children alone! She needs help! she declared.
A public row would have been the easiest route, but no loud scoldings or grand declarations passed that day. Neighbours leaned over fences, trying to catch every turn of phrase, as if to drink the richness of the English tongue.
I chose not to inflame the matter.
Billy, you can understand her, I said.
No! Billy shouted.
Im not saying Ill forgive her, I cut in, but I can understand her. Her behaviour is something else, and your mother cannot be changed. Yet remaining enemies with a close person would be worse. To avoid that, we must not let her ride us again.
Darling, shell keep pestering you! Im your son, your beloved, and youre my daughterinlaw! The law says we must look after the daughterinlaw! Billy sighed heavily. I must protect you.
My dear, Im no fool! I laughed. Believe me, Ill find an answer.
My replies left Agness eyes bulging. The worst part was that I never called her names; still, she felt as if a heap of manure had been dragged over me.
Agness retorts were blunt and unvarnished, and she poured everything out without shame. I turned the tables, refusing to help with cleaning, cooking, preserving, or any domestic chores, let alone the garden.
She thought I would never return. Yet I did, with Billy, as proper. She assumed Id give in, but I offered another excuse, another protest, another outburstyet never said anything truly hurtful.
Enough of that talk! Agnes snapped. Do I wish ill on my own son? I try my utmost to please him!
Weve stripped the tongue! I beamed. And I pour all my strength into pleasing Billy! What if I tire on your garden? What if I lose my vigor?
How then shall I care for Billy? How shall I love him? How shall I feed him, give him drink, lay him down to sleep? If I neglect him, hell be displeased and will tell his mother that his wife does not love, feed, or look after him!
Will you stay silent? she asked. No, of course not! We will quarrel! Yet why should I sour my relationship with my motherinlaw further? She already spares me little. So no garden work! Ill keep my strength for Billy!
Mabel Agnes started, bewildered.
Do not persuade me! I replied firmly. I am needed by my husband! He would be lost without me. I cannot be traded for gardens and chores at your place, only for my own home and for Billy!
Agnes was no fool. She saw that I had outwitted her on every front, and she could not blame a son for standing his ground.
When the tempers finally cooled, she sipped her homebrewed brandy and said soberly, Billy is clever on his own, and with such backing I feel at peace.
Thus the old grudges faded, and the garden, once a battlefield of words, became merely a patch of earth where we all learned that patience and a steady hand are worth more than any inherited quarrel.
