The next morning, our neighbour was once again lingering over our garden fence. My wife went out to speak with her, telling her that we had far too much to do today, so we wouldnt have time to sit and chat as we did yesterday. What about tomorrow? Marianne asked with obvious curiosity. It will be just the same tomorrow. In truth, please, do not come by again, my wife replied firmly.
Looking back now, my yearning to settle in the city led to nothing good.
My wife owns a cottage in the countryside. In the days when her mother and father were still with us, we used to visit them often. I remember the evenings, when wed lay out supper beneath the great old pear tree, the table groaning with food, while we lingered with our conversation until nightfall. It was always the same when we called there. And in winter, her mother would light the old range. Youd always find fresh cakes on the side, and the whole house was awash with a warm, sweet scent.
My wife and I both enjoyed long walks and the odd bit of sledging in the snowy months. But then, her parents both passed away. We kept the cottage, thinking wed still visit as we used to. But life rarely gives us what we intend.
There was always some duty to see to, some reason to stay away. In time, we almost forgot the place entirely, swept along by the rolling years. Our son grew up, found himself a sweetheart, and married her. My daughter-in-law, Margaret, often remarked how lovely it would be to spend the summers in the countryside.
Thats when we remembered the cottage. My wife and I travelled there first, for it had been so terribly long since wed last gone. Amazingly, the place hadnt changed, except for the dust and overgrown hedges. The house was a bit neglected, thats all.
We set to work straightaway. Ellen, my wife, tackled the house from top to bottom, while I set about the garden and the outbuildings. I half expected it all to be falling apart after so many empty years, but not a bit of it. With a bit of elbow grease, the old place began to look cheery once more. The very next day, the children arrived. They pitched in too, and within a single day, every room was aired and welcoming. The ladies prepared a splendid supper, and my son and I mended the timeworn table and benches beneath the pear tree.
It was then we noticed a woman peering at us from over the fence. She soon introduced herself, saying shed only just bought the cottage next door and had come to get acquainted. Being hospitable sorts, we invited her to join us for dinner. Her name was Marianne. She told us she lived alone here, having bought a house for her daughter, who had three little ones of her own. Marianne was on her own, long divorced, she confided. She kept nattering on, but my mind started to wander.
Then, quite suddenly, I felt something brushing against my leg. When I glanced down, I caught sight of our neighbours foot under the table, creeping toward mine. I hastily moved my foot away, but she persisted, attempting to stroke my ankle. I confess Id never been in such a situation. I sat frozen, not daring to draw attention, hoping my wife wouldnt notice. Still, Marianne kept chattering away. The children were starting to get tetchy, and frankly, I hoped shed be on her way.
As we cleared the table, my wife mentioned that Marianne seemed a frivolous sort. I couldnt disagree. Of course, I never owned up to what had taken place under the tableI was mortified enough. I rather suspect this was not Marianne’s first foray into mischief with a married man.
That next morning, there she was, leaning on the fence once again. My wife went out to meet her and told her, quite directly, that we were much too busy today for visits.
But what about tomorrow? Marianne pressed.
Itll be the same tomorrow, my wife replied. Please, dont come round any more.
That took a bit of courage. The neighbour muttered beneath her breath for some time, but I paid her no mind. I think Ellen was absolutely right. We pride ourselves on our warmth and honesty, but when someone doesnt suit, its best to keep ones distance. And we immediately sensed we wanted nothing further to do with her.
