Nothing, Mum! Youve got your own home, havent you? Thats where you live. So unless we invite you, please dont come round here.
My mum lives in a cosy little village on the banks of a winding river. Theres a patch of woodland just behind her garden, and, in the right season, you can gather a whole hamper full of blackberries and mushrooms there. Ive been running across those familiar meadows, basket in hand, ever since I was a kid. It always felt like such a treat to be right at the heart of nature.
When I got married to my childhood sweetheartTomhis parents happened to live just down the lane from my mum, though on the other side of the road, and their garden doesnt back onto the woods or the river. So whenever we come down from London, we always end up staying at my mums.
Lately, though, my mums changed a lot. Maybe its age, or maybe shes just become a bit jealous of Tom, but our little holidays started turning into rows more and more often. It got harder and harder to sort things out calmly. And when we tried staying with Toms mum and dad a few times, my mum managed to start an argument all over again, this time with their neighbour, over things that really didnt matter. Toms mum got so cross she was shouting at the top of her lungs. I swear the whole village could hear the old grievances spilling out onto the street.
A month later, once things had cooled off a bit, Tom and I came up with what we thought was a brilliant ideawed build our very own house, somewhere we could go and really feel at home without anyone taking offence.
Sorting out the land was a right old hassle. But after a load of paperwork and a fair bit of luck, we managed it. Toms mum and dad jumped in and helped with the building, full of excitement. His dad was more or less a permanent fixture at the site.
The only one causing trouble was my mum. She kept popping by, giving advice, criticising anything that was already finished. In short, she never gave us a moments peace even there. Building that house was honestly a bit of a nightmare.
A year later, our house was finally done, and Id hoped we could breathe easy. No such luck! Mum refused to stop turning up unannounced, accusing us of being selfish, and huffing that now we werent offering her any help. Never mind the fact that Tom had always done odd jobs for hermowing the lawn, fixing her roof, tinkering here and there whenever something broke.
One day, when her patience wore thin, she said: Why are you even coming here now? Go on, stay in your city, and whenever you visit here you just show off your nice new things.
That was Toms last straw. He strode calmly over to my mum, and there was something about his calm that made her edge towards the hallway.
What are you doing, Tom? she asked.
He smiled gently and replied, Nothing, Mum! Youve got your own place, havent you? You live there. Please dont come to ours unless we invite you. Just leave us one free weekend now and then, alright? If you need help, ring us, and if theres a fire, well come running!
She spluttered, What do you mean, what fire?
At that, she scuttled out the door so quickly I almost burst out laughing. Tom just shrugged after shed gone. Alright, maybe the fire bit was a tad much, he admitted.
I said, No, honestly, it was about right.
We ended up laughing together, remembering the look on mums face. Ever since then, things have been really quiet in our new home. Mum doesnt drop round, she happily accepts help when Tom offers, but she only really speaks to us in yes or nos. I reckon she still remembers that fire…
