“Mum, you’ve had your fun at our cottage, now off you pop back home,” the daughter-in-law shooed her mother-in-law off the property.
Emma still couldnt quite believe it. Had they actually bought their own countryside retreat? Theyd dreamt of it for ten long years, but life kept throwing spanners in the worksmortgage payments, the kids school fees, yet another economic downturn. Now, after glancing at their savings, they decided: it was now or never.
Her husband, James, worked at an insurance firmnothing extraordinarywhile Emma was a paediatric physiotherapist. She earned decently, but a countryside home had always felt like a pipe dream. Then fate intervened: both her grandmother and Jamess passed away within months, each leaving them a flat in sleepy market towns.
After lengthy discussions, the couple sold both properties, pooled the cash, and made their dream a realitybuying a plot of land.
A listing popped up quickly. Few people sell in winter, preferring to wait for summer buyers. But James was adamant. “If we dont do this now, well talk ourselves out of it and never have a cottage,” he grumbled.
Emma agreed wholeheartedly. Everything was falling into place!
The plot was perfectelectricity, gas, utilities, all sorted. All they needed was a modest house, even if just for summer use.
Come spring, James took leave and, with his mate Nigel, got to work. They hammered away without breaks, and within a month, the family was celebrating their new home.
Admittedly, sleeping arrangements were cosyinflatable mattresses on the floor and city-brought duvets. But the essentials were there: a stove and running water. The rest could come later.
“Right then, James, cheers to you!” Nigel raised his pint.
The men downed their drinks, grabbed kebabs slathered in onions and ketchup, and dug in.
“Whod have thought itd happen this fast!” Emma marvelled. “At New Years, I hadnt even dared dream of a cottage, and nowta-da!” She gestured at the house.
Despite the gathering dusk, the group lingered outside, prolonging their impromptu barbecue.
“Hello, love, hows tricks?” came Margarets honeyed voice over the phone.
If she sounded this sweet, she was definitely scheming.
“Mum, brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” James chirped.
“Oh, I know. The grandkids mentioned youve bought a cottage?”
“That we have! Not just any cottagea proper country estate!” he declared proudly.
“Oh, dont be daft,” Margaret tittered, then her tone flattened. “Well, good for you…”
“Mum, howve you been?” James belatedly asked.
“Oh, whats there to say at my age? Doctors reckon I need peace, quiet, no stress. Then maybe my healthll improve… But where to find such a place? Spas cost a fortunefar beyond my means,” she hinted heavily.
“Mum, come stay with us!” James offered eagerly.
“Oh, love, dont be silly! As if youve nothing better to do! And Emma wont like it…” she demurred.
“Mum, stop it. Youre coming, end of discussion!”
“Alright, darling, if you insist. Ill bake your favouritemy Victoria sponge.”
When James broke the news to Emma, she was less than thrilled.
“So, we get a cottage, and suddenly her doctors prescribe fresh air?” Emma deadpanned.
“Basically,” James shrugged.
“Not suspicious at all, is it?”
“Nope. Shes got high blood pressure.”
“James, youre missing the point. Shes not here for her healthshes here to snoop!”
“Relax. Shell stay a week, then toddle off.”
“Forgotten her last visit, have you?”
James had. Emma hadnt. Margaret had done her utmost to wreck their marriage: spreading gossip, stirring rows, implying her eldest son had “married beneath him.” Petty sabotage toooversalting soup, swapping icing sugar for baking powder. Emma had finally snapped and packed her off on the first train home.
Emma had no doubt Margaret would bring the drama this time too. But bad-mouthing his mum felt unfair. Maybe, just maybe, this visit would be different?
“Oh, this is simply lovely, you two! A little slice of heaven! The air, the trees, this adorable house” Margaret gushed. “This mustve been Emmas doing! Shes such a clever girlhold onto her, James, wives like her dont grow on trees!”
“Thats new. Whats brought this on, Margaret?” Emma frowned.
“Oh, youve always been my favourite. My sons a bit of a plank, but youre pure gold. Weve had our spats, but water under the bridge, eh?”
“So Im a plank?” James laughed.
“Yes, but my plank,” Margaret smiled. “Now then, whats for dinner?”
“Barbecue every night here!” Emma grinned. “Hope thats alright? Were just mad for cooking outdoors.”
“Lovely. Last time I had kebabs was in Brighton. James was still in school. Imagine how long ago that was!”
“Right, James, fire up the grill. Ill fetch the meat.”
“Mind if I tag along? Fancy another peek at the house.”
“Of course!” Emma nodded.
This time, Margaret was differentjovial, cracking jokes, downright chummy with Emma. Maybe time had mellowed her? Perhaps past rows had made her rethink. Why sabotage them now? Theyd been together years, had grown kids, now this cottage. Plus, Emma was a gem: hardworking, loyal, a cracking cook.
While James and Margaret fetched plates, his phone buzzed, screen-up. Emmas gaze snagged on the message, and her blood ran cold.
*When are you back in town? Have you told her about us? Waiting to hear. Kisses.*
Emma dropped the phone. It landed softly in the grass. Her mind raced*How do we tell the kids? Split the flat? Who is she? How could James do this?*
“Plates are here!” James set them down.
“I need a minute,” Emma blurted, bolting inside. She couldnt face him. Cold water. Air.
She flew to the sink, splashing her face.
“Whats wrong?” Margaret dodged, fumbling a ketchup bottle.
Tears mixed with tap water. Emma dried her face, trembling.
“James is seeing someone.”
“Oh, love, come here.” Margaret hugged her. Oddly, she didnt seem surprised.
“You knew?”
“I hoped hed snap out of it. Youve been together since uni, have kids, this place. Like I saidplank.”
Emma sobbed. If hed told his mum, it was serious. Their marriage was over.
“Listen. Dry your eyes. Well handle this. No way are we handing him to some floozy.”
Somehow, that helped.
Next morning, James headed to town”for warmer clothes,” he claimed, citing a chilly forecast.
Emma knew the real reason. Playing along, she kept quiet.
Once his car vanished, Margaret sidled up on the porch with a plan.
“You need a man.”
“*What?*”
“Not seriously. Just to make James jealous. Men get complacentwifes old news, eyes wander. But if he sees youre desirable too, he might wake up.”
Absurd yet weirdly logical.
“Whod volunteer?”
“What about Nigel? Single. Helped build this place.”
“Ring him. Kebabs, drinks, short skirt. Let James come home to find his spot taken!” Margaret grinned.
To Emmas shock, Nigel agreed, though theyd barely spoken before. Arriving, he asked, “Wheres James?”
“Back tonight. Im hopeless at grillingneed a mans touch,” Emma simpered.
Margaret watched through the window.
“Top up your wine?” Nigel reached for the bottle.
“Please, but Ill be tipsy if I dont eat more,” Emma flirted.
“Youre stunning, Em,” Nigel passed her fruit. “Wish I had someone like you. Dont tell James, thoughjust thinking aloud.”
Emma flushed. This wasnt part of the plan. What if he got handsy? James would be back soon. Not that she cared anymore.
Her thoughts swirled. She took another sipthen tires crunched on gravel.
James screeched in, nearly taking out the fence.
“What the hells going on here?!” he roared, leaping out.
“James! Youre back early?” Emma feigned surprise.
“Mum rang saying some bloke came sniffing round! And its *Nigel*? My best mate!”
“Whats it to you? Sort out your mistress. Ill be single soon.”
“What mistress?”
“The
