My word, well have it all sorted in no time, Ellie! Dont worry yourself! The excitement in the voice on the line rang with such enthusiasm that Eleanor actually paused as she was slicing cabbage in her cosy kitchen. Therell be a bunch of us. Me, Sophie, maybe Ill rope in Charlotte as well. Were no strangers to hard work, you know! Well have that potato patch sorted by lunchtime, then do the blackcurrants. You just get the barbecue ready well bring the muscle, you provide the feast!
Eleanor sighed, switching the phone to her other ear and wiping her damp hands on her apron. She glanced out the window, the midday July sun baking endless potato rows and hefty bushes bent beneath blackcurrant clusters. It was certainly far more than she could manage alone especially with her back acting up since the previous weekend.
Mary, youre quite certain? She couldnt keep the doubt from her voice. Theres a lot to do. This heat is no joke, and its proper graft, not just pottering about. If you lot just want a nice day out, maybe come when Tom and I have finished?
Oh, dont be daft! her sister-in-law fired back, sounding affronted. Were not featherweights, you know. Toms done his back, youre up to your neck its about helping family, from the heart. Just wait for us at noon! Dress code: best farmyard chic!
The phone went dead. Eleanor glanced over at her husband Tom, who was at the kitchen table tentatively buttering bread, careful not to twist his injured back. Just a fortnight back, hed put it out hefting timber on a job, and now he shuffled around the cottage garden like an old clock, sheepishly watching his wife do everything.
So, are they coming? he asked when he saw her face.
Theyre coming, Eleanor replied, turning back to the cabbage. Marys bringing half the street, apparently. Says theyll sort the spuds and get the berries done too.
Tom gave a sceptical snort, taking a bite of his sandwich. Mary and hard graft in the same sentence? Dont get your hopes up, El.
Oh, come on, she smiled weakly. Maybe guilts finally caught up with her. She sees the state were in. Besides, I laid down the law barbecue only after the works done! Thats motivation enough, surely.
If you say so, Tom muttered, not wishing to argue further.
Eleanor willed herself to believe. After all, Mary was thirty-five, with two children (conveniently left with their grandma this weekend). She should know a patch of ground was no picture in a magazine, but sheer, unrelenting effort.
Feeling inspired by the prospect of help, Eleanor threw herself into preparations. With so many workers, theyd need a proper meal. She started a huge pot of new potatoes boiling, whipped up bowls of cold summer soup perfect for the heat, and marinated nearly ten pounds of pork shoulder for the grill fresh, pricey, bought just for this occasion. Theyll work hard. Theyll deserve a treat, she told herself, sprinkling liberal handfuls of onions and herbs.
By noon, everything was ready. Eleanor, whod already managed to weed two rows of carrots, showered, changed into clean shorts and a T-shirt, and stepped onto the porch. Sun blazed overhead; the hedge hummed with grasshoppers, and the air held the heady scent of sun-warmed pine and dill.
No sign of Mary by twelve. Nor by one. Tom, napping in a hammock beneath the apple tree, just checked his watch, wisely saying nothing. But Eleanor grew restless. The potatoes cooled, the cold soup waited in the fridge, and the precious time before the worst afternoon heat drifted away.
Finally, round about three, an engine rumbled up. A gleaming silver SUV nosed up to the garden gate, pop music blasting from the open windows for the whole village to hear. Eleanor hurried to meet them.
It felt as though people poured out endlessly. First came Mary, huge sunglasses covering half her face, a flop-brimmed straw hat, and a bright sundress far more suited to Brighton Pier than a cottage veg patch. Sophie and Charlotte followed, acquaintances Eleanor barely knew, both decked out in similarly garish beach outfits sarongs, bikinis peeking through, platform sandals and heaps of costume jewellery.
Yoo-hoo, you country lot! cried Mary. Blimey, its boiling! Nearly melted in the car air con was useless, traffic nightmare!
Eleanor, taken aback at the parade, managed to accept the hug, the scent of expensive perfume smothering the smell of dill.
Hello girls, she managed, taking in their attire. Have you er, brought anything to change into? Ive got a couple of old aprons and joggers, but not enough for everyone.
Mary flapped a hand. Oh El, all in good time! Let us just get our breath back. Gasping have you got any squash? Or lemonade? Cold, preferably!
She made for the boot of the car. Eleanor half expected to see wellies or at least gardening gloves appear, but instead out came three folding sun-loungers, a huge cool box, an inflatable flamingo, and a portable speaker.
Whats all this for? Eleanor tried not to let her irritation show.
What for? piped up Charlotte, pouting. To sunbathe, obviously! You said the weather was gorgeous. Well combine the pleasant with the useful.
Eleanor glanced at Tom, who had emerged stiffly from his hammock, watching the scene with the resigned air of a man foreseeing disaster.
Mary, he began, no offence, but Eleanor did say about the garden. The spuds arent earthed up, fruits dropping everywhere. You came to help, didnt you?
Tommy! Mary pecked her brothers cheek, leaving a smudge of lipstick. Dont be boring, honestly. Weve only just arrived! Little cocktail first, bit of a unwind while its roasting hot, then well get cracking wont we, girls?
Of course! sang the girls, already unfolding sun-loungers right across Eleanors painstakingly mown lawn.
Eleanor stood by, watching as the lawn became a makeshift beach: towels, sun creams in all factors, glossy magazines, cans of fruity cider lined up in battalions.
El, why are you hovering like a statue? called Sophie, already peeling off her sarong to reveal a startling bikini. Bring some glasses, the Proseccos getting warm! Something to nibble too? You said there was cold soup?
There is, Eleanor replied slowly, but its for after the work.
Oh, here we go, Mary rolled her eyes. Dont be stingy! Well faint if we dont eat soon. Go on, be a sport.
Eleanor ground her teeth. She wanted nothing more than to send the lot of them back to busy London. But her upbringing and the thought of Toms bad back stopped her.
Fine, she said crisply. Ill bring some soup. But after, its straight out there. The potatoes wont earth themselves up.
She headed inside, clattering bowls. Tom followed, limping.
El, dont let it rile you, he murmured.
You wont say a word, Tom, she shot back softly. You know what your sisters like. If you kick up a fuss, shell shriek the place down. Let them eat. Maybe guilt will kick in.
Lunch degenerated into shrieks of laughter, gossiping about men and swimsuits. Eleanor ate in silence, eyes fixed on her plate, rattling through her food, while the others dawdled, called for seconds, and then demanded tea.
Oh, that went down a treat! Mary flopped back. Honestly, El, youre a marvel in the kitchen thats why I adore you. Right, time for this food to settle.
Mary, said Eleanor, starting to clear plates, its four oclock. Suns a bit weaker time.
Time for what? Charlotte enquired lazily, donning bigger sunglasses.
For the spuds. And the blackcurrants. Got your buckets and hoes sorted. Only found three pairs of old gloves between you, unless you brought your own?
The friends exchanged glances.
Youre not serious? Mary gaped as if Eleanor had lost her mind. Now? On a full tummy? In this heat? Ill have a dizzy spell. Plus, weve just done sun cream. Needs time to soak in.
You promised, Eleanor said firmly.
Promise we will! Mary flapped a hand dismissively. When the suns gone down. Bit cooler. Well get it all done easy. For now Sophie, stick on some tunes!
And so, the village rang to dance beats while the three sprawled, cider in hand, relishing their holiday.
Eleanor, arms full of dirty dishes, felt something break inside. She caught Toms eye; he sat on a bench, head in his hands mortified for his sister, for Eleanor, for everything.
Ill go to the garden, she told Tom. Alone.
Ill help, he groaned, trying to rise.
Sit, she put a hand on his shoulder. Youll only do yourself a worse injury. Entertain your guests.
She changed, tied a scarf round her hair, grabbed a hoe, and trudged to the vegetable plot. The worst of the heat had faded, but the earth was baked dry. She hacked at it grimly, channeling her simmering anger through the handle. Thwack, thwack.
From the house there was only laughter, shrieks and the chink of bottles.
Tom! Why so gloomy? Mary could be heard shrilling. Come over and well rub some sun cream on your back!
Eleanor blocked them out. She worked down one row, then another. Sweat stung her eyes, mosquitos settled for the evening feast. Her back screamed. On autopilot, she pressed on.
Time passed. She finished the potatoes, then sat on a small stool to pluck blackcurrants urgent work lest they all drop. Her fingers turned purple, legs went numb.
At seven the music finally ceased. Eleanor straightened and saw the trio weaving from the house, cheeks flushed and voices tipsier than ever.
Oh look, Cinderellas still slaving! Sophie whooped. Were famished now, El barbecue time, please!
Eleanor rose slowly, a full bucket of blackcurrants in hand.
You here to help? her voice crackled.
Dont be like that! Mary pouted, reaching for berries. Eleanor held the bucket away. You can see were not in shape. Sophies just got her nails done, shed ruin them. And Charlotte went all queasy in the sun. Besides, its too late mozzies are ruthless. Well do it tomorrow, early doors, promise! For now meat! Tom said youd marinated pork. Mmmm, yum!
Eleanor stared at her. Marys look was brazen, hungry, resentful. It was clear she saw the place as a free hotel; Eleanor as permanent staff, the food as her right.
There wont be any barbecue, Eleanor said quietly.
What? Mary stopped smiling. What do you mean, no barbecue? But you said
I did. For those who did the work. We had a deal, Mary. You help, I feed you. You havent lifted a finger. You trampled my lawn, blasted music, gobbled my lunch, while I slogged out here alone.
Oh, get over yourself! Sophie scoffed. Bit precious, arent you? Were guests!
Youre not guests, Eleanors voice was steel. Guests have manners. Youre freeloaders.
Excuse me? Mary screeched. Tom! You hearing this? Your wifes talking to me like Im a stranger! Im your sister!
Tom had followed, pale-faced. Im hearing you, Mary, he said quietly. And Eleanors right.
What? Not you as well! How dare you! We came all this way for you
With sun-loungers? Eleanor broke in. Pack your things, Mary. Now.
Im not going anywhere! Ive been drinking, I cant drive. And neither can the girls. Were staying the night. Well talk in the morning! Now, wheres the food?
The porks in the fridge. Sos the key, and the house is locked, Eleanor declared, jingling the ring of keys in her shorts pocket. Ive got them.
You cant do that! Its my brothers house! Mary shouted, advancing on her.
Its our house, Tom replied, stepping in front of Eleanor. And El runs it. I shouldve said this earlier, Mary; I hoped youd grown up. But you brought a circus, turned the place into a beach, while my wife was torching herself in the garden. Did you even notice her hands? Did you once ask if help was needed?
Im not interested in your precious veg patch! Mary snarled. You country types, living knee-deep in muck. Normal people relax at their cottages!
Then find yourself a hotel or a resort, Eleanor shot back. Here, help is part of the deal.
Im not leaving! Theres no way Ill get a taxi out here! Youll have to pay for it! Mary howled.
Ill pay nothing, Eleanor replied, turning for the house. Youve got half an hour to pack. After that Ill let Barclay out.
Barclay was the neighbours huge mastiff, who Tom sometimes dog-sat. Barclay wasnt actually there, but Mary deathly afraid of dogs didnt know that.
Bluffing! Mary called after her.
Try me, said Eleanor, not looking back.
The girls, whod been silent, began to hurry.
Lets just go, Mary, Charlotte whispered. Honestly, I cant be bothered theyre mad. And if that dog comes out
I wont forget this! Mary screeched, folding up the sun-loungers. Youre dead to me! Miserly pair!
Eleanor locked herself in, then closed all the windows. She watched through the curtain as three women in hats and swimwear frantically crammed things into the bonnet. Inevitably, the flamingo wouldnt deflate.
Tom stood in the yard, watching, not helping.
Twenty minutes later a taxi rolled up. Mary, slamming the door of her own car in a fit of pique she left it behind, too nervous to drive stomped off to the cab, followed by her friends.
When they rounded the bend, silence fell on the garden. Only then did Eleanor realise how much noise there had been all day.
Tom came in. Eleanor was in the kitchen, staring at the blackcurrant bucket, hands trembling.
Gone? she asked.
Gone, Tom nodded, and stooped just to hug her. Im sorry, El. I shouldve sent them packing at the first sight of sun-loungers.
You should, Eleanor agreed, relaxing into the hug. But youre too kind. Family, after all.
Family like thats worse than enemies, Tom sighed. Do you know what she said as she left? That I owed her petrol money.
Eleanor snorted with laughter. And you said?
Told her Id deduct it from the cost of letting them rent the lawn and all the barbecue they didnt get!
They sat in silence a while.
What about all that pork? Tom remembered suddenly. Be a shame for it to go to waste.
Eleanor looked up and, for the first time that day, smiled truly.
It wont waste. Fire up the barbecue, Tom. Gently, mind your back. Lets have dinner. Just us. In peace and with our own music: crickets.
It became their best summer evening. They grilled pork, drank cold cordial, and Tom regaled her with stories from work, making Eleanor laugh. They lingered on the veranda into the night, watching stars glimmer in the velvet sky.
Marys car stood on their drive for three more days, until her taciturn husband turned up for it. He said nothing but thanks, then left. Mary herself didnt call for a month. Later, she phoned Tom and Eleanors mum to complain about being thrown out hungry, but his mother wise and well aware of her daughter rang Eleanor, got the full story about the sun-loungers and untouched blackcurrants, and simply said, You did right, my dear. Long overdue.
New rules quietly took hold after that. El hung a cheeky sign on the garden gate: If you don’t work, you don’t eat. For most, especially Mary (who did resurface in autumn, just as she fancied free veg), it wasnt a joke.
That time, Mary arrived alone, no friends or sun-lounger in sight. Eleanor, without a word, handed her a bucket and pointed her to the apple tree. Mary grumbled, but she went because now she knew: in this house, promises are kept and the key to the fridge is non-negotiable.
Eleanor and Tom bought their own sun-loungers, and in the evenings, after a hard day, theyd stretch out side by side, watching the sun set. They took quiet satisfaction in sharing the fruits of their labour with those who truly valued them.
Sometimes the people closest to us can take us most for granted. But learning to value your own effort and respecting honest give and take is the real key to any homes happiness.
