The air was thick with the scent of dew-drenched grass as Evelyn and William arrived at their countryside cottage. Theyd bought it in autumn, a quaint little place sturdy enough for winter, though the garden was wild and overgrown, begging for order.
The old orchard needed tamingtwisted branches pleading for a gardeners hand. A new sauna had been ordered, due in a week, its spot yet unchosen. Nearby, a laundry shed, a woodshed, perhaps a gazebo. The children had promised to visit, to help set things right.
“Lovely here,” murmured Evelyn. “Quiet. We could stay year-round now were retired.”
“I checked the cellar,” William said. “Only the door needs replacing.”
“And I looked at the back veranda. Remember the gazebo idea? Pointless. The verandas got that old round table, those antique chairsjust needs polishing. A hundred more years in them, easy. And the viewstraight into the orchard. Tea under the boughs.” She frowned. “The door feels… off. Like someones been inside.”
“New locks first, then. Well fix up the back garden firsthidden from the road, but still pretty. The fronts for the lawn and flowers.”
“The perennials are already sprouting. Just need sorting. Maybe move a few. But well leave it this summer.”
A week later, the sauna arrived. The children came. Work began. The neighbourMrs. Higginbothamappeared, her grandchildren darting like sparrows around the property.
“Youve grandchildren of your own?” she asked, sharp-eyed.
“Theyll visit,” Evelyn said.
“Why such a tall fence? Weve always done without round here.”
“Without? We just tore the old one downrotten, collapsed. You never minded, but we like things tidy. Dont worry, its right on the boundary. Not an inch over.”
“No gate between us? The children always cut through.”
“You mean trespassing? No. The only entrances from the lane.”
“But where will they play? Youve cut the apple trees downthey loved climbing those!”
“Pruned, not felled. And new ones planted. Your lot can climb *your* trees.”
“Everythings new with you. And why bushes along the fence?”
“*Our* fence,” William said. “For privacy.”
Mrs. Higginbotham leftbut returned, always with new complaints. Her grandchildren scrambled over flowerbeds until the new gates went up.
“Youve settled in proper,” she remarked. “Staying through winter?”
“Perhaps.”
“Why lock the gates? The children always played football heresafe, flat. The roads full of cars!”
“My front gardens not a pitch. Yours is just weeds. Cant tell thyme from tarragon unless its labelled. And strawberries? Only seen them in jam. Be friendly, maybe.”
“The gates stay shut. Keep your brood out. Two days ago, they let our hens loose. Not ones been found.”
“Youve chickens? So youre staying, then?”
“Were here already.”
By late August, Williams birthday brought the family togetherchildren, grandchildren, laughter. Men grilled meat; women set the veranda table. Then
“Hello, neighbours!” Mrs. Higginbotham beamed, her flock already swarming. “We always drop in uninvited. Saves fuss. The children knew by dawnwhere theres cooking, theres a party!”
“We didnt invite you. Family only.”
“Oh, that can change! Kidsll grow up. Might be kin one day!”
No matter the hints, she stayed. Her grandchildren shook fruit trees, scaled the sauna roof, thendrawn to decorative stonesbegan hurling them into the inflatable pool. Water erupted.
“Autumns coming anyway,” Mrs. Higginbotham shrugged. “Good timing.”
“Time you left.”
“But the children are hungry! All that runningcome on, everyone, tuck in!”
The celebration soured. A week later, the family returned for Evelyn and Williams anniversarythirty-five years. This time, the youngest grandson, seven-year-old Oliver, bolted the gate.
Knocking echoed. The family pretended not to hear. The air hummed with skewered lamb and crisp twilight.
“Whens the move back to town?” someone asked.
“Well see. Autumn first. Then winter. Theres apples to pickbumper crop this year. We love it here. Except *her*. But shes learnable.”
Laughter rippled.
Guests left. Evelyn and William remained. Aheadautumn, winter… Theyd try. And if not? The city flat waited.
As for Mrs. Higginbotham? School called. Her daughter needed help with the children.
William exhaled. “Thank heavens for small mercies.”
