Poppy Whitaker was suddenly talking about sorting out a garden plot, even though shed never mentioned it before.
Again? Whats happening now? she asked, staring at her husband with a puzzled expression. We just helped your mum the other day. Im not keen for more Lets just have a quiet weekend for ourselves, just the two of us.
Her eyes begged, but George was firm.
Poppy, you know Mums having a tough time. Dads gone, and she cant manage everything on her own. Im the only son, so I have to step in.
Fine, but why is your mum turning up at our flat this time?
I told you she needs new wallpaper, something milkywhite, and a few other bits of kit.
Cant she just order it online?
She doesnt know how to order. Well all go over the weekend, get a walk in, clear your head.
Strolling through a DIY megastore for a day out? Thats your idea of fun? Poppy huffed, though she didnt want to ruin the weekend. She ordered everything on the list, selected the items herself, and paid for them outright.
All that was left for the motherinlaw was to receive the supplies, and there was no longer any need for her to pop into their city flat. The delivery was due Friday night, so Poppy figured there should be no hiccups.
She was in for a surprise when Agnes Whitaker arrived on Saturday morning, lugging bags of goods.
You wanted me to haul all this weight. Why? George, didnt you tell her?
Its a surprise, dear, Poppy, still in her pajamas, said, trying to smooth things over.
The matriarch gave Poppy a dismissive glance, then turned to her son. Whats the silence? Got something stuck in your throat? Tell your wife about the surprise.
What surprise? Poppy asked, feeling she was being kept in the dark.
Im moving in with you for a few months, Agnes declared, shrugging off her coat.
Before Poppy could process that, another bomb dropped.
And youre staying with me, she heard herself say.
Agnes drifted into the kitchen while Poppy grabbed Georges hand and whispered, halfirritated, Whats this about? I never agreed to any move.
Sorry, I didnt get the chance to tell you. Mum suggested it. Dont worry, were not packing tomorrow, George shrugged, as if nothing had changed, and headed off to his mother.
Poppy retreated to the bedroom, avoiding a direct clash with Agnes. As evening approached, the picture cleared a bit. George finally explained.
Poppy, you have an opportunity. Think about it. Well refurbish the house the way you like. Itll look great on your portfolio, all the clients will love it.
Well live there while we work. Mum isnt at an age to breathe plaster dust, but well need to keep an eye on the workers.
Do I have to do that? Poppy asked, more bewildered than ever.
Exactly. You need a job, and were looking after you, you and Mum.
This is absurd. Moving me to a village for months? I love my flat.
First thing, were not moving tomorrow. You just ordered the wallpaper, right? Well redo one room, make it cosy for Mum.
How will she cope with the dust?
Well crack a window, she wont even notice. Shell just supervise.
The house belongs to me on paper, the flat belongs to her. She only has it because you never claimed your inheritance.
Why are you meddling in our family affairs? Weve already sorted everything. Im the sole heir after Mum, so everything will end up with us anyway.
If the flat had been in your name, Mum wouldnt have kicked us out for months. Now, thanks to your naïveté, were stuck in the countryside!
Agnes, listening at the door, burst in as Poppy flared.
Youd better keep quiet, Agnes snapped, defending her son. You had no right to pick a side.
What do you mean pick a side? Poppy asked, taken aback.
Of course I chose. Without George, Id be lost. And now youre eyeing the inheritance?
I think its fair. Youre shortchanging our son.
You want justice, Agnes said, fixing George with a sharp stare. And why are you silent? Agree with her?
George stayed mute, not wanting to pick a side.
I do, Poppy replied, standing her ground. It seems youve taken everything from our son. If you married again, what then?
Me? Agnes laughed. Marry? Oh, dear, Im not that old. She softened a bit, pleased that Poppy didnt call her a crone. Fine, you renovate the house and Ill transfer the flat to George. Happy?
Just one condition the house goes into my name.
Poppy felt a small victory. George was a little down about arguing with his mother, but he tried to hide it.
Its still awkward dealing with Mum, he muttered in the car later.
They quickly refurbished a single room, and within a week they were packing for the village.
Its all about us now, love. Soon the flat will be ours again. Just picture it
Poppy dreamed of owning a threebedroom flat, and it seemed that dream might finally materialise.
The village house was far from a postcard. Faded walls, a massive workload, and a price tag that made George sigh.
Just take out a mortgage, he reasoned, and in the end well have the flat.
Poppy agreed and threw herself into the project. Though she fretted about living in a rustic house without all the comforts, the vision of a tidy garden kept her going.
Every private house needs a flowerbed, she told herself, or at least a little patch of blooms.
She started the paperwork for a garden plot, something she hadnt planned at all. Each evening she proudly recounted the days progress to George.
Well plant roses; Ive already ordered the seedlings.
Poppy, thats beyond our budget. We cant afford it. Mum will move in and do the planting herself.
Something inside Poppy snapped, and she poured her heart into the conversation.
George, why dont we just stay here? I love it, and the house is already in your name, no need to transfer anything.
Dont you want the flat?
Whats the point? Its cramped, stifling. Here we have space!
Ill talk to Mum.
Poppy felt a surge of happiness. She now tended both home and garden, and life seemed perfectuntil the motherinlaw turned up again.
Good afternoon, Agnes Whitaker. Why show up unannounced? Poppy greeted, ready to showcase the renovation, though something about Georges mother didnt sit right with her.
What am I supposed to warn you about when Im coming home? Youve taken forever with the work, so Im here to see whats become of it.
Youre coming home? Oh, George hasnt told me yet; were staying here.
Where? Im back, and you can go back to the flat if you dont like it here.
Agnes, you misunderstand. Were staying in the house. Its Georges, theres no need to retitle anything.
Agnes burst out, You ungrateful thing, stealing my home! I came to help, and you push me out?
Ill stay, and George is right behind me. Dont make a scene, pack your things.
Poppy was stunned. She hadnt expected Agnes to like the house. Shed always praised the city flat, bragging about how lucky they were to live in civilisation while she was stuck out in the sticks.
George and Agnes sat in silence for an hour, each lost in their own thoughts, both hoping the other would back down.
George arrived in a sour mood, seeing his mother and wife together, and sighed heavily.
Whats happened? they both asked, adding to his discomfort.
My firm went bust, Ive got no work. Looks like well have to stay here, Poppy. The garden could help us save a few quid.
His mother watched him quietly. Inside, Poppy felt a small triumph. She didnt even have to force George into a choice; hed made it himself.
Poppy still had doubts, as George often followed his mothers wishes.
Mum, sorry, but it really will be simpler for us here. Well pay off the mortgage and get back on our feet.
Time was short, village life was cheaper, and there were no pricey supermarketsjust the essentials.
Agnes agreed with her son, unable to oppose him in his current mood.
She said goodbye to her children and left. George flashed a wide grin at Poppy.
So, whats the plan, actress? he teased.
What do you mean?
I know Mum wanted to go back to her house and saw how happy you are here.
Hed guessed shed never refuse. He didnt want to argue over the property any longer.
Poppy hugged him, grateful for the outcome.
