**Diary Entry 15th June**
“Mum, youve had your bit of fun at our cottagetime to pack up and go,” my wife finally said, shooing her mother-in-law off the property.
Emily still couldnt believe it. Had they really just bought their own countryside cottage? Theyd dreamt of it for ten long years, but life kept throwing obstacles in their waymortgages, school fees for the kids, another economic downturn. But now, after checking their savings, theyd decided: it was now or never.
Her husband, James, worked at an insurance firmnothing extraordinarywhile Emily was a paediatric physiotherapist. She earned well, but a country home had always seemed out of reach. Then fate intervened. Both her grandmother and Jamess passed away within months, each leaving them a flat in small market towns.
After long discussions, they sold both properties, pooled the money, and made their dream a realitya plot of land in the Cotswolds.
The perfect spot came up quickly. Few people sell in winter, preferring to wait for spring. But James was adamant.
“Well find a million reasons to back out if we wait,” he grumbled.
Emily agreed. Everything was falling into place!
The plot was idealelectricity, gas, plumbing, all connected. All they needed was to build a modest summer house.
Come spring, James took leave and, with his mate Nigel, got to work. They hammered away without breaks, and within a month, the family celebrated their housewarming.
Sleeping arrangements were makeshiftinflatable mattresses and duvets brought from the city. But the essentials were there: a stove, running water. The rest could wait.
“Heres to you, James!” Nigel raised a pint.
The men downed their drinks, grabbed kebabs slathered in HP sauce, and dug in.
“Whod have thought itd happen so fast?” Emily marvelled. “At Christmas, I never imagined wed have our own cottageand here it is!” She gestured proudly.
As dusk fell, they lingered outside, enjoying their impromptu barbecue.
“Hello, love, hows it all going?” came Margarets saccharine voice over the phone.
When she sounded that sweet, trouble always followed.
“Brilliant, Mum!” James chirped.
“Oh, I heard. The grandkids mentioned youve bought a cottage?”
“Thats right! Not just any cottagea proper country retreat!”
“Oh, dont be silly,” Margaret laughed theatrically, her tone suddenly flat. “Well, good for you”
“How are you, Mum?”
“Oh, whats there to say at my age? The doctor says I need peace, quiet, no stress. But where? Spas cost a fortune…”
“Come stay with us!”
“Oh, love, I couldnt impose. And Emily wouldnt want”
“Mum, just come.”
“Fine, since you insist. Ill bake your favouritemy Victoria sponge.”
When James told Emily, she wasnt thrilled.
“So, we get a cottage, and suddenly her doctor prescribes country air?” she scoffed.
“Yep.”
“Not suspicious at all.”
“Nah, her blood pressures bad.”
“Youre missing the point. Shes not here for her healthshes here to snoop!”
“Relax. Shell stay a week, then leave.”
“Remember last time?”
James had forgotten. Emily hadnt. Margaret had done everything to sabotage their marriagespreading gossip, stirring fights, hinting James was “too good” for her. Petty, toooversalting soup, swapping sugar for salt. Emily had sent her packing.
She had no doubt history would repeat. But arguing wasnt worth it. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different?
“Oh, its lovely here! A proper little paradise!” Margaret gushed. “This mustve been your idea, Emily! Clever girl. Hold onto her, Jameswives like this dont grow on trees!”
“Since when the flattery?” Emily frowned.
“Youve always been my favourite. My sons a muppet, but you? Gold.”
“Cheers, Mum,” James laughed.
“Oh, hush. Whats for dinner?”
“BBQ every nighthope thats alright?”
“Lovely! Last time I had kebabs was in Brighton, when James was in school!”
“Right, Jamesfire up the grill. Ill grab the meat.”
“Mind if I tag along? Fancy another look at the house.”
Margaret was different this timewarm, joking. Maybe time had softened her. Why would she ruin things now? They had kids, a home, this cottage. And Emily was a good wifehardworking, loyal, a great cook.
While James and Margaret fetched plates, a phone buzzed, screen up. Emilys eyes caught a message:
*When are you back in town? Have you told her? Im waiting. Kisses.*
Her hands trembled. The phone thudded onto the grass.
*How do we tell the kids? Split the flat? Who is she? How could James do this?*
“Plates are here!” James announced.
“I need a minute,” Emily choked out, fleeing inside.
She splashed cold water on her face, tears mixing with the stream.
“Whats wrong?” Margaret startled, dropping a ketchup bottle.
“James is seeing someone.”
“Oh, love…” Margaret pulled her close, unsurprised.
“You knew?”
“I hoped hed snap out of it. Youve been together since unikids, this place. Like I saidmuppet.”
Emily sobbed. If hed told his mother, it was serious. Their marriage was over.
“Listen. Dry your eyes. You dont want a scene, do you?”
Emily shook her head.
“Well sort this. No way we let *her* have him.”
It helpeda little.
The next day, James left for the city”for warmer clothes,” he claimed, citing a cold snap.
Emily knew the truth. She played along.
As his car vanished, Margaret perched beside her.
“You need a man.”
“What?!”
“Doesnt have to be real. Just make James jealous. Men wander when they take wives for granted. If he sees youre desirable, he might remember what hes losing.”
Absurdbut there was logic.
“Who, then? Nigel?”
“Call him. Kebabs, wine, that short dress. Let James come home to his spot *taken*.”
To her shock, Nigel agreed, though theyd barely spoken.
“Wheres James?” he asked.
“Back later. Im hopeless at grillingneed a mans touch,” Emily demurred.
Margaret watched from the window.
“More wine?” Nigel offered.
“Go easyIm a lightweight,” she flirted.
“Youre gorgeous, Em. Pity I dont have a woman like you. Dont tell James, thoughjust thinking aloud.”
Emily flushed. What if he tried something? Not that she owed James loyalty now.
A car screeched up the drive.
“What the hells going on?” James roared.
“Youre back early?”
“Mum calledsaid some admirer was here! And its *Nigel*?”
“Whats it to you? Sort out your fling. Ill be single soon.”
“What fling?”
“The one you raced to town for! I saw the text!”
“I thought that was a wrong number! Theres no one!”
Emilys eyes darted to the window. Margaret yanked the curtains shut.
“Mum! Get out here!”
“Oh, it was just a joke!” Margaret cackled. “Your faces!”
“Trying to break us up is a *joke*?”
“Ill go,” Nigel muttered, ignored.
“You set this up? The text?”
“Course! Two phones, dear.”
“Mum, this isnt funny. I nearly lost everything.”
“But you didnt! Besides, Im *helping*! Retirements dull.”
“Pack your things. James will drive you to the station tomorrow,” Emily said coldly, steering her out.
“Youre *kicking me out*?”
“Youve had your fun. Piss off.”
“Where will I sleep?”
“The car. Its not winteryoull live.”
The next morning, James drove her in silence.
**Lesson Learned:** Blood may be thicker than water, but some relatives test even that. Boundaries arent crueltytheyre survival.
