Who on earth has been rambling around our cottage? I complained, my voice sharp as a cutthroat razor. Give your family a bell and let them come over to sort it out. Im done tidying up after them. Ive had enough of washing the sheets every night because your mates have been crashing here on the weekend.
Your mother called just now, Sam said, pushing his plate across the table. She and the rest of the clan are planning a weekend barbecue at the lake.
Thats all well and good, I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm from bubbling over. But why should we stay put? Ive never liked your mother, Margaret, much.
They just want to use the cottage, Sam explained. They dont have a place of their own, and Ive got a garage job on Saturday. He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I told Mum we couldnt go up to the cottage at the weekend, so she asked for the keys.
I had no choice but to agree, a decision I later regretted. When the next weekend arrived and Sam and I drove up to the cottage, the sight that met us was like a scene after a hurricane. The garden was overrun with weeds, the floorboards were filthy, and a lonely pot of ancient stew sat on the stove. The kitchen curtains had been ripped down. I could not make heads or tails of the wreckage. Sams parents were already in their sixties.
I let it all out at once.
Who in blazes has been mucking about here? I roared again. Call your family and have them sort this mess out. Im not going to keep cleaning after their drunken nights. Im fed up with laundering the linens after your friends latenight parties.
Youre overreacting, Sam said, rubbing his temples. Just toss the laundry in the machine, pull it out, and hang it to dry.
Fine, next time youll do it yourself! I snapped. Are you proud of the state of our cottage and garden?
Sam didnt pick up the phone. I stopped talking to him, and after a tense silence we managed a truce. Wed only been married two years, a wedding that had started out of love, though now I sometimes wondered if Id rushed in. We had no children yet.
Life went on as it always had work, the house, work, the house. Weekends were spent strolling in the park or driving out with friends to the countryside. Everything changed when my mother, Evelyn, suddenly remarried and moved to another city. The family cottage fell into my hands.
From that moment, Sams relatives seemed to love the place. One after another they turned up, insisting on staying for the weekend, claiming that barbecues tasted better under open skies. Cousins, aunts, uncles, even Sams grandmother turned up with picnic baskets, fishing rods, and a hunger for grilled sausages. Sams mates showed up too.
Everyone arrived with their bags, ready to camp out. Sam would light the grill as usual, and I grew weary of the endless stream of guests, yet I didnt want to sour his relationships. Something had to give.
By the time the next weekend rolled around I was practically buzzing with dread. When Sam and I married, his mother was already well into her later years. Shed given birth to a son quite late in life and had a daughter, Marion, Sams sister, who was ten years older than he was. Marion, a smalltown woman through and through, believed everything was a family affair.
Marion and Margaret began pilfering everything from the cottage lotions, shampoos, sponges, even my slippers. Then the motherinlaw called again, asking Sam to hand over the cottage keys. This time Marion wanted to bring her boss, Ms. Whitaker, for a weekend retreat and a BBQ.
As usual, they never asked me what I thought.
Well give Mum the keys, Sam said. He remembered my fury after the previous relatives visit, but he kept his mouth shut.
I realised I had to act, and Sam found himself on the opposite side of the argument. After weighing my options, I phoned my mother and vented.
Ill call you back, she replied curtly.
About twenty minutes later I was on the line again, telling her that my sister and her husband would be coming to the cottage for a few days. Dont worry about a thing. Aunt Eleanor will sort it, I added.
Aunt Eleanor had always been a source of childhood anxiety. As a kid shed whisked me off to seaside holidays, and those memories still clung to me. Eleanor Bryson, though firm, knew how to keep things in order.
That evening Eleanor rang.
My dear niece, you havent called in ages. Whats the plan? she asked, halfteasing. Do we give them a gentle scare or go fullforce? She laughed, clearly delighted at the prospect of a little drama.
I shivered. Did you tell them the cottage belongs to me? she inquired.
I dont recall, but they all swear its theirs, I muttered.
Dont fret, love. Well sort it out, she assured.
On Sunday Sams mother, Margaret, called, irate. Did you sell the cottage? she shrieked. Wheres the money? Why didnt anyone tell us?
It turned out that on Saturday Marion, her boss, and Margaret had all turned up at the cottage, a party of five already gathered around a makeshift grill on the lawn.
What are you doing here? Eleanor gasped.
And who, exactly, are you? the boss asked, her tone authoritative. I am the owner of this property. I dont know you. How did you get the keys?
Marion tried to explain the family connections and the handover of the keys, but Eleanors displeased stare left her tonguetied. The guests fell silent.
In the end, Eleanor snatched the keys from Marion, politely asked them to leave, and warned that any further trespass would be dealt with more forcefully.
From a distance I heard Margaret screaming into the receiver. Sam looked bewildered, unable to utter a word.
Put the phone to your wife, Sam whispered, handing me the handset. The cottage isnt yours! Margaret declared, her voice echoing with a strange, ceremonial authority.
What? Did you even ask? I tried to keep my tone steady. Do you think everything around us is yours as well?
Dont you realise that Marion invited her boss? If her boss loses her job, youll be blamed for it, Eleanor snapped. She needed to curry favour; if shes sacked, itll be on your conscience.
Ive got nothing to do with it! Aunt Eleanor, youve shown up uninvited. Get your own holiday spot and leave ours alone, I retorted. Youve lived without this cottage for years; now youre going to live without it too.
Sams face went pale. Im never going back there again, and neither will my relatives, he muttered.
It was the first time wed really fought. Sam was hurt. Marion was dismissed from her job. Ill never forgive you for this, he told me. My family has always looked after you, and youve betrayed us.
I was convinced Marions dismissal had another cause. Suddenly I realised I didnt care about any of them. Our marriage had hit a dead end.
Mom, I think Im going to divorce Sam, I said.
Decide for yourself, love. Youre an adult now. Where will you live? Ive let my flat go. You can stay with Eleanor, she suggested.
Thanks, I suppose, I replied, surprised at my own composure. Ill probably rent a flat.
I filed for divorce, rented a small flat in Leeds, and left Sams house for good. I never set foot in the cottage again.
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