You cant tell the difference between a sprig of parsley and a weed just by the label on the shop shelf! And youve only ever seen berries in jam! grumbled the offended neighbour, MrsImogen Clarke.
Helen and George had driven out to their old country cottage in the Vale of York. Theyd bought it in the autumn, and now, in the lingering heat of summer, they decided to put everything right. The house was still charming, even in the chill of winter, but the garden and the outbuildings were a tangled mess.
The overgrown orchard needed to be turned into a picturebook paradise. A new wooden sauna had been ordered; a delivery truck would arrive in a week and set it up, they only had to choose the spot. At the same time they planned a drying rack for laundry, a woodshed, and a little gazebo beside the sauna. Their grandchildren had promised to come and help with everything.
Its quiet here, we could live like this all year. Were retirees now, after all, George said, eyeing the crumbling porch.
Ive inspected the cellar; only the front door needs replacing, Helen replied, sweeping her gaze across the back veranda.
Remember we talked about a gazebo? Its unnecessary. The veranda already has a round table and a set of antique chairs.
They just need a little polishing; theyll last another hundred years. From there well look out over the garden, sip tea and watch the world drift by. The back door also needs a new hinge; it feels as if someone has been in the house this winter, or perhaps just yesterday.
Yes, the doors first. Well do everything in the rear yard, out of sight from the road, and still keep the place pretty. In front of the house well have a lawn and flower beds.
The perennials are already there, theyve been growing for years; we just have to decide where each should stay. Maybe well have to move a few, but for this summer well leave them as they are.
A week later the sauna arrived, the grandchildren swarmed in, and the work began. The neighbour popped over to introduce herself; her grandchildren were constantly circling the cottage, their laughter echoing like wind chimes.
Do you have grandchildren?
Yes, theyll be coming soon.
Why are you putting up such a massive fence? Weve always managed without any boundaries.
Without a fence? What was here before? We just tore down the old one; it had collapsed. You didnt mind, but we need order. Dont worry, we havent taken any extra metres from you. The fence sits exactly on the property line.
No gate then? Weve always had a way in.
You mean somewhere between us? No, that isnt planned. The entrance is only from the road.
And what about the children, ours and yours? I saw you cut down the apple trees; the kids loved crawling over their roots.
We didnt cut them down, we pruned and cleared, and weve planted new saplings. Let your children play among your own apple trees.
Everythings new with you. Why plant hedges along our fence?
For aesthetics!
MrsClarke left, then returned with fresh questions. Her grandchildren continued to sprint across Helen and Georges plot until the new gate was finally erected.
Youve settled in here well, she said again, eyes halfclosed as if in a reverie. Will you stay through the winter?
Time will tell.
Why did you lock the gate? The kids used to kick a ball right in front of the house; it was convenient, even on the road.
My garden beds are already full, unlike yours. You only recognize parsley by its shop label, and youve only ever tasted berries in jam. You should be friendly with me.
The gate is shut to keep prying eyes away and to stop your grandchildren from taking over. Two days ago they let our feral hens loose; we still havent found any of them.
You keep chickens too? So you really intend to live here?
We already do.
At the end of August they celebrated Georges birthday. The children arrived, the grandchildren too. The whole family gathered on the veranda; men grilled meat on the barbecue, women tossed salads, and a blanket of sunlight fell over the table.
Here we are, dropping by for a neighbourly hello, as we always do, uninvited. Were neighbours, after all. The kids know the schedule before sunrise.
Youve prepared everything, the guests are here, so its a party. Lets sit, the children will have more fun together, and perhaps its finally time for us to be friends.
It seems we never invited you. This is a family celebration; our relations are neighbourly, not familial.
Perhaps one day itll change. The children will grow up; maybe well even become relatives, the neighbour replied with a mischievous grin.
No matter what anyone said, she kept rearranging things and never left. Her grandchildren clambered everywhere, shaking the apple and pear trees, scaling the roof of the sauna andmiraculouslynever falling.
Soon they were drawn to the smooth stones set around the outbuildings. One of them began hurling the stones into an inflatable pool. The splash went unnoticed until the children shrieked with delight as water burst forth.
Autumn is almost here, the pool will have to be put away, mused MrsClarke, smiling at the dripping puddles. The kids have had their fun.
Time to go home!
We havent even sat down yet; the children are starving. Appetite has awakened. Everyone, to the table!
The celebration faltered, but another lay ahead. A week later the children returned, this time to mark the thirtyfiveyear anniversary of Helen and Georges life together.
Someone had the bright idea to lock the gate again. It turned out the culprit was the youngest their sevenyearold grandson, who loved the secret click of the latch.
The thud of a knocker echoed on the gate. The whole family pretended nothing was happening, the air scented with roast meat and fresh herbs, a cool breeze drifting in.
When will you be back in town?
Well think about it. Autumn is coming, well harvest, then well see. The apples are abundant this year. We like everything here except the neighbour, but she isnt a barrier. Weve learned to live without her.
Everyone laughed together.
The guests drifted away, leaving Helen and George alone. Autumn lay before them, then winter They would try, and if it failed, they could always return to their flat in London.
MrsClarke eventually drove off, her grandchildren needing school. Her daughter was overwhelmed, and the grandmother promised to help. Helen and George sighed with relief. God help us if we get more of these troublesome neighbours, George muttered.
What do you think of all this? the dream whispered, fading as the sunrise painted the garden gold.
