13November2025
Ive been turning this over in my head for hours, and the more I write, the clearer it becomes. Yesterday was a nightmare that still feels too vivid to shake off.
When Michaels mother, Eleanor Whitaker, arrived at our cottage in the Cotswolds while we were away, she turned our modest garden into a battlefield. You never know what you truly want, she snapped, as if Id just declared I wanted my own tomatoes and cucumbers. She swore shed arranged everything for me, and now she was fuming over the very idea of a tidy plot.
I never said such a thing, only mentioned that the neighbours garden was neat and tidy. Eleanor, however, seemed to have heard a different story altogether.
She stood in the middle of what had been our little courtyard just yesterday, arms flailing. The greenhouse is already paid for! Itll be delivered and set up right here, where those useless phlox were growing, she announced. Ive moved the phlox temporarily to the fence, dont worry. Well replant them later. The roots are a bit broken, but theyll survive phlox are as hardy as weeds.
I could do nothing but stare at Michael beside me. His face was a mask of disbelief. The sight was almost comical.
Our beloved corner, the cottage we bought with the hardearned £3,200 that meant giving up holidays and a new car, had turned in three days into a freshly ploughed field. The emerald lawn of yesterday was now a series of dark furrows, the pride of Michaels garden turned into a raw, turnedover earth.
Mother, Michael said, his voice unusually low, what have you done?
Eleanor lifted an eyebrow. What have I done? I organised the garden for you lot! You city folk know nothing about this, and Ive spent my whole life with my hands in the soil, I know whats right.
She spoke as if she were delivering a sales pitch in a conference centre, oblivious to the opposite effect her words had.
Just wait until autumn well have a bumper harvest! Everyone will be jealous. Well plant potatoes, beetroot, carrots. And that lawn youve grown? Its nothing but a folly. Yes, it looks nice, but a lawn wont feed anyone!
Her confidence knocked the wind out of me.
Wed been away for three days, attending a wedding of friends in nearby Oxford, leaving Eleanor to look after the house. She certainly looked after it in her own way.
When we returned, I tried to keep my voice steady. Eleanor, this is our cottage not yours. We never asked you to replough the garden or rebuild it.
She rolled her eyes. Oh, Lucy, dont be so ungrateful! Im doing this for you! Youre young and inexperienced, and Ive been gardening all my life. In the north we used to grow tomatoes the size of watermelons! And here you are, planting flowers and seeding grass. Its nonsense.
Michael stepped forward, and I placed a hand on his shoulder, fearing hed say something hed later regret.
Mother, he said firmly, cancel the greenhouse order immediately.
His voice trembled slightly, but he held himself together. Eleanor stared at him, a mixture of surprise and indignation flashing across her face.
No way! she shouted. I wont cancel it!
Mother Michael clenched his fists. Who asked you to do this?
The relationship between Michael and his mother had always been tense. Shed raised him alone, but he was never one of those clingy, mamasboy types who still needed his mothers permission at fifty. Hed become independent at fourteen, left for university at eighteen, found a job, and thats where we met. We married and eventually moved back, I from my own roots.
Eleanor tried to carve a place for herself in our family, but Michael kept her at arms length, sometimes even harshly.
Ive even paid a deposit from my pension, mind you! she muttered, shaking her head. Youre ungrateful! I only want the best for you, and you
At that moment I could hold back no longer. Id swallowed her unsolicited advice, her I know better for years, but seeing the wilted phlox, the dried roots by the fence, the ruined garden broke the last dam of patience.
Leave, I whispered.
What? Eleanors eyes widened in disbelief.
Leave, I repeated, a little louder. Pack your things and go today.
Lucy, are you serious? she gasped. Im Michaels mother!
And so what? I shot back. This is our home, our plot, and you had no right to take over.
She tried to protest, but I cut her off. You destroyed what we built over the past two years. Michael spent every weekend tending that lawn, I grew flowers from seeds and cared for them like children. And in three days you My voice wavered, then steadied. You tore everything down. Leave, Eleanor. Take the key with you.
She stared at me, then at her son.
Mick! she called, pleading. Mick, you cant let this this lady
Go home, Mother, Michael said, weary, with the greenhouse if you must. Well sort it out ourselves.
What are you going to do with my greenhouse? Eleanor shrieked.
My greenhouse? I asked, incredulous. Thats news.
Yes, mine! I ordered it with my own money!
Then take it with you when it arrives, I snapped. Because we dont need it. We asked you only to water the flowers and feed the cat. Thats it. Youve gone and turned our garden into a disaster.
Ungrateful lot! Eleanor wailed. I came with a clean heart I wanted to help! And you you have no conscience! Ungrateful, ungrateful!
She ranted a little longer, then stormed out. Michael and I could still hear her shouting about ingratitude, about how wed regret it, how wed be lost without her.
The next day the delivery truck arrived with the greenhouse. We sent it back, as the order was in Eleanors name, and there were no claims against us. We got back to work, and soon the yard was green again. A fresh roll of lawn sat in neat strips, new phlox and asters lined the pathways in tidy rows.
When Eleanor heard this, she was livid. What have you done? she yelled into the phone. Everyones garden is a garden, and yours is just a patch of grass! No cucumbers, no tomatoes, just lawn! Bah!
We did what we thought best, Michael replied curtly.
Bah to you! she snapped. If I ever do anything for you again if I ever give you any advice ask me nothing more! I wont help!
