My wife comes from a sprawling family, scattered among hamlets nestled in the English countryside. Many of her relatives have spouses and children; as a result, theres plenty of property within the clan. For example, my mother-in-law and father-in-law own three cottages in a village. Two stand side by side, and they use them as one grand estate to gather the family for Sunday roasts and Christmas, while the third cottage sits alone, decaying, untouched, and quietly swallowed by wild brambles. Nobody lives in it, nobody visitsit’s just a stubborn fixture, fading into the landscape.
My mother-in-law has tried several times to sell this lonely cottage, but who would bother? The village is remote, theres nothing much to catch the eye, and the place needs the sort of renovation that would scare off anyone but the most eccentric. Still, Im drawn to it. The idea of owning that peculiar old cottage enchanted meI even discussed with my wife the possibility that her parents might gift it to us as a holiday retreat. She hoped so, brought it up with her mother, but admitted she wasnt holding her breath. Perhaps, she suggested, her mother still clings to hope of selling it for a tidy sum and making a profit.
Yet, for a year and a half, since I suggested we start tidying the cottage, everythings stood frozenno one sells, no one buys, no one lifts a finger.
When my wife finally told her father bluntly that wed love to have the cottage, he just shrugged, asking what we needed it for when they already had two cottages with room enough for everyone. But theres a world of difference between staying at ones in-laws, and being in ones own space.
Maybe theyre waiting for us to make an offer, to buy back the cottage. My mother-in-law would never part with it freelyshed expect at least a few pounds for her trouble. And I have no notion of what would be fair to offer. My wife and I dont have much money; otherwise, wed buy a holiday cottage elsewhere, and besides, wed need to set aside funds for repairs if we ever did get it. And yet, Im haunted by the thought: does my mother-in-law have no heart, no scruples, to sell anything to her own daughter? Surely a mother should look out for her child, not demand payment.
This whole cottage business feels like wandering down a foggy, winding lane that leads nowherean endless, muddled dead end in a dream, where the old stones and tangled ivy never quite let you go.
