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We’re Planning to Celebrate the New Year at Your Cottage. ‘I’ve Come for the Keys,’ said My Brother-in-Law’s Sister.
Were thinking of spending NewYears at your cottage. Im here for the keys, my sisterinlaw said.
Why bother going up to the country? You two could have a lovely night in the house. Weve got a big lot three kids to look after over the holidays! Poppy snapped, clearly annoyed. Do you even know what its like living with three little ones?
I havent a clue, Laura replied calmly. Mike and I havent even started thinking about kids yet. First we need a place of our own and a steady job, then maybe well talk about a family.
Exactly! We never planned anything with Greg, Poppy shot back.
Then youre living off child benefits, Laura noted. Gregs hopping from one gig to another, no stability. I dont want a life like that.
Thats our business. Dont count other peoples money! Poppy roared. So, hand over the cottage keys.
No, Laura said firmly. Weve already booked it for NewYears with friends.
Fine, then change your mind! If you dont hand the keys over nicely, Ill call Mike and tell him how youre being rude, Poppy threatened.
Go right ahead, as long as you like, Laura smiled.
Poppy made a sour face and stalked out of the flat.
***
The cottage Poppy had her eye on actually belongs to Laura it was left to her by her grandmother, Mrs. Valerie Turner, whos well into her eighties. Lauras parents insisted Valerie live in London all year, under their watchful eye, instead of moving back to the country.
The cottage is a proper country house, fully equipped. Five years ago Lauras parents added an extension to give Valerie a bathroom and installed central heating.
Grandma Val refused to leave the city at first, but as age caught up she started thinking about a move. She made Laura promise not to sell the place and to look after the garden so nothing would suffer the frost.
Laura asked her parents to let her watch over the house. She remembers spending summer holidays at her grans as a kid those are some of her brightest memories.
With Mikes blessing, Laura set about a cosmetic overhaul: fresh wallpaper, new paint on the ceiling, modern chandeliers, and swapping a few pieces of furniture for something sleeker.
It wasnt cheap, but now the cottage is cosy enough for a weekend any time of year. So the pair didnt think twice about inviting friends over for a NewYears bash.
Then Poppy turned up, demanding Laura hand the house over to her. She argued that because Mike is younger, he should give way to his older sister. Laura couldnt see how her grandmothers cottage fit into that, and she felt no guilt about saying no.
***
Poppy flushed with anger. Instead of phoning her younger brother, she marched straight to his office. Mike was halfway through a meeting when his sister burst in, drawing the eyes of everyone around.
Mike! she shouted, making sure the whole floor heard. We need to talk, now!
Keep it down, Mike snapped. People are working here. Lets go to the smoking area.
Mike lit a cigarette, already sensing this wasnt going to end well.
What do you want? he asked shortly.
I want the keys to your cottage! Poppy demanded.
What cottage? Mike was confused. Oh, you mean the country house?
Yes, that one, Poppy said, pursing her lips. Ive already planned my NewYears. You need to talk to your wife and get those keys from her.
Even if I could, I wouldnt. How dare you make such a demand? Its the twentyfifth of December and decent people give a headsup about their plans! Mike retorted.
Dont lecture me, its nothing! Poppy snapped.
Were only five years apart. It might have mattered when we were kids, not now, Mike tried to reason. My breaks over, you should go home.
Poppy left more irritated than when she arrived, but she wasnt about to give up.
***
On the morning of 31December Laura was dashing between shops as Mikes last workday of the year wound down. He promised hed be free after lunch and theyd have everything ready, but Laura was still a little nervous.
Luckily everything fell into place, and by sixpm the couple were on the road to the Cotswolds. They had to do a bit of work to get the water running, and by nine the guests started arriving, ready to set the table, grill some kebabs and usher in the old year.
Mike, I think someones pulling up, Laura said. Probably Claire and Tom are getting here early to help. Theyre always on time! she added with a grin.
Ill meet them and unload the gear, Mike replied.
Great, Laura beamed, feeling the excitement building. Finally NewYears would be exactly how shed always imagined: fresh air, good friends, and a proper celebration.
Mike tossed on his coat and headed out to the yard. When he opened the gate, he froze.
Hey, brother! Poppy shouted, rushing in and planting kisses on both cheeks. Happy NewYear!
Mike needed a moment to collect himself as Greg hauled stuff out of the boot, while Poppy jabbered about the party. He finally shook his head and said, What are you doing here? We agreed this a week ago!
Listen, Poppy raised an eyebrow, you decided, I just didnt say Id go along.
Mike, whats the holdup? Laura called out, surprised to see his sister.
Yes, thats right, Poppy replied proudly. Things dont always go the way you want.
When Greg tried to bring the first batch of bags inside, Mike snatched his arm.
Youre not getting in, he growled.
Poppy, helping the kids unzip their seat belts, heard Mikes harsh tone and turned on him instantly.
Let Greg go right now! she shouted.
I wont, Mike replied. Everyone, pack up and leave now!
What did you just say? Poppy asked, pulling at Mikes arm.
What you heard!
Were not going anywhere, she said haughtily. Weve got a whole carload of kids.
I love my nieces, but theyll have to celebrate somewhere else tonight, Mike explained. You wont be going in.
Maybe youll call the police? Poppy quipped.
Id have to if it wasnt NewYears Eve, Laura intervened. Better you all leave peacefully, unless my friends boxerfighter husband shows up. He wont let you in.
Youre threatening me? Poppy sneered.
No, Im just making sure you leave.
Laura, taking charge, said, Everyone out, now, or well have a real mess.
Mike and Laura shut the gate, keeping the unwanted guests out. Poppy and Greg had no choice but to head back home, where Poppy launched a fullblown tirade at Greg in the car.
You could have at least nudged him aside! she yelled. What a clumsy mess!
They drove back to the house theyd lived in for years, where Poppys mother, Evelyn Lewis, still didnt speak to her son since his wedding.
Now Ill stop talking to Mike too, Poppys mother said, tossing her coat onto a chair.
What? Evelyn asked, squinting.
You threw us out of the cottage. Can you imagine? her daughter replied, indignant. And his wife, she wanted to call the police like we were thieves!
Thats why I dont talk to him, Evelyn muttered. Remember when I tried moving in and they said the flat was too small? They claimed wed have to share a cramped space with the kids!
Oh, Mum, stop, Poppys sister cried. Lauras ruined Mike for us.
Meanwhile the kids were running around making a mess, and Evelyn and Poppy happily sipped champagne while watching Love Actually. Greg was frantically trying to fix the kitchen.
Back at the cottage, Laura and Mike greeted the arriving guests and started the festivities. Laughter and chatter filled the air. Laura slipped away from the crowd, pulled Mike aside and whispered, Ive got something to tell you. She handed him an ultrasound photo.
Are you serious? Mike looked up, eyes widening. Were having a baby?
Yep, Laura smiled brightly.
Mike pulled her into a hug, kissed her and said, Thats the best NewYears present ever.
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Mother-in-Law Anna Peters was sitting in her kitchen, watching the milk quietly simmering on the stove. She had forgotten to stir it three times already, each time remembering too late: the milk would froth, spill over, and she would clean the stove irritably with a cloth. In those moments she felt it keenly: it wasn’t really about the milk. Ever since her second grandchild was born, everything in the family seemed to derail. Her daughter grew tired, thinner, and quieter. Her son-in-law came home late, ate in silence, sometimes heading straight to the bedroom. Anna saw this and thought: how can you just leave a woman to cope alone? She spoke up. At first gently, then more sharply. First to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. And then she noticed something strange: after she spoke, the house didn’t feel lighter, but heavier. Her daughter defended her husband, he grew gloomier, and Anna returned home with a sinking feeling that once again, she hadn’t done things right. That day she went to see their vicar, not for advice, but because there was nowhere else to go with this feeling. “I suppose I’m just not a good person,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I always do things wrong.” The vicar was sitting at his desk, writing. He set his pen aside. “Why do you think that?” Anna shrugged. “I tried to help. Instead, I only seem to make everyone angry.” He looked at her attentively, but without judgment. “You’re not a bad person. You’re just exhausted. And very anxious.” She sighed. That rang true. “I’m so worried for my daughter,” she said. “She’s so different since the baby. And him…” She waved a hand. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice.” “Do you notice what he does?” the vicar asked. Anna thought for a moment. She remembered how, last week, he washed the dishes late at night when he thought no one saw. How on Sunday he took the pram out for a walk, even though he looked as if he’d rather collapse into bed. “He does help… I suppose,” she replied doubtfully. “But not the way he should.” “And what way is that?” the vicar asked gently. Anna wanted to reply at once, but realised she didn’t know. She could only think: more, better, more attentively. But what, exactly, was hard to explain. “I just want things to be easier for her,” she said. “Then say that,” the vicar replied quietly. “Not to him, but to yourself.” She looked at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re not fighting for your daughter — you’re fighting her husband. And fighting means being tense. That exhausts everyone: you, and them.” Anna was silent for a long while. Then she asked, “So what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine?” “No,” he replied. “Just do what helps. Not words, but actions. And not against someone, but for someone.” On her way home, she thought over his words. Remembered how, when her daughter was a little girl, she would just sit beside her quietly if she cried — never lecturing. Why was it different now? The next day, she arrived unannounced. She brought soup. Her daughter was surprised; her son-in-law embarrassed. “I won’t stay long,” Anna said. “Just wanted to help.” She watched the children while her daughter slept. Left quietly, without a word about how hard things were, or what they ought to do. The next week, she came again. And again, the week after. She still noticed that her son-in-law was far from perfect. But she began to see other things: the way he gently picked up the baby, how at night he tucked a blanket around her daughter when he thought no one was looking. One day, in the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself and asked him, “Is it hard for you right now?” He looked startled, as if no one had ever asked before. “It’s hard,” he answered, after a pause. “Very.” And nothing more. But something sharp in the air between them was gone. Anna realised she’d been waiting for him to change. But it needed to start with her. She stopped discussing him with her daughter. When her daughter complained, she didn’t say “I told you so.” She just listened. Sometimes she took the children to give her daughter a break. Sometimes she called her son-in-law to ask how things were. It wasn’t easy. It was much easier to stay angry. But gradually, the house grew quieter. Not better, not perfect — just quieter. Free of endless tension. One day her daughter said, “Mum, thank you for being with us now, not against us.” Anna thought about those words for a long time. She understood something simple: reconciliation doesn’t come from someone admitting they’re wrong. It comes when someone is willing to stop fighting first. She still wanted her son-in-law to be more attentive. That wish hadn’t gone away. But alongside it lived something more important: for her family to have peace. And every time the old feeling — frustration, resentment, the urge to criticise — rose up, she asked herself: Do I want to be right, or do I want to make things easier for them? Almost always, the answer showed her what to do next.
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– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...