Oh, you wont believe what happenedZina, your grandkids stripped every last one of my bilberry bushes! The neighbour didnt even bat an eyelid. “So what? Theyre just kids.” “Just kids? Theyve ruined my entire harvest!” “Oh, come on, dont make such a fuss, love.”
Antoinetteeveryone called her Toniwould start her mornings with a cuppa in hand, strolling around her cottage garden, checking the veg patch and admiring the fruit trees. Her and her husband, Peter, had a decent-sized plotfifteen acres. Half was dedicated to potatoes, carrots, and cabbages, the other half to an orchard with apple and pear trees, plus her beloved bilberry bushes.
Shed planted those bilberries five years ago and was finally expecting her first proper harvest. Nearby were blackberry brambles, always heavy with sweet fruit, and along the fence, a grapevine with clusters just starting to ripen.
“Peter, look how plump the bilberries are getting!” shed call out.
“Lovely,” hed agree.
Come summer, their grandkids, twelve-year-old Alfie and ten-year-old Emily, would visit. Theyd help in the garden, pick berries, and splash about in the nearby brook. Toni adored them.
Next door lived her neighbour, Zena. Her plot was smallerjust six acreswith no veg patch, just flowerbeds and a cosy little cottage.
Zena had five grandkids staying over the summer, aged four to fourteen. Their parents worked in the city, so it was just her looking after the little terrors all season.
The kids all got along, running between both gardens. Toni didnt mindshe loved hearing them laugh.
“Auntie Toni, can we play in your garden?” theyd ask.
“Of course, darlings. Just mind the veg patch.”
Then one morning, Toni noticed something odd. Several bilberry bushes were practically bare. Instead of ripe berries, only green ones hung untouched.
“Peter, come here!” she called.
“Whats wrong?”
“Look at the bilberries. Where are they?”
He peered closer. “Thats odd. They were full yesterday.”
“Could it be birds?”
“Birds peck one at a time. This looks like someone picked them clean.”
Toni checked the other bushes. The blackberries were nearly gone tooeven the unripe ones had been stripped.
“Peter, the blackberries are gone as well!”
“Blimey!”
But there was no denying it. Bushes that had been full the day before were now empty.
That evening, Toni decided to keep watch. She sat on the bench with a book but kept an eye on the garden.
An hour later, she spotted Zenas grandkids squeezing through a gap in the fence. All five made a beeline for the bilberries.
“Look how blue they are!” the youngest cheered.
“Lets take the lot,” the eldest suggested.
And they set to work, plucking every last berrystuffing their pockets, eating as they went, filling a carrier bag theyd found.
Toni stepped out. “What on earth are you doing?”
The kids froze. The older ones tried hiding the bag.
“We were just trying a few,” the thirteen-year-old, Mikey, said weakly.
“A few? Youve stripped the bushes bare!”
“Auntie Toni, can we take some more?” little Katie asked. “Theyre so yummy!”
“No. These are our berries. We grew them.”
The kids trudged back through the fence. Toni watched them go, then marched over to Zenas. She was sitting on the porch.
“Zena, we need to talk.”
“Go on.”
“Your grandkids have picked every last bilberry!”
Zena didnt even flinch. “So? Theyre kids.”
“So? Theyve ruined my harvest!”
“Oh, dont get your knickers in a twist. Theyre just berries.”
Toni was stunned. “Just berries? Ive spent five years growing them!”
“Well, grow some more. No need to fuss.”
“Zena, the least you could do is apologise!”
“Apologise for what? Kids will be kids.”
The conversation went nowhere. Zena clearly saw nothing wrong with her grandkids behaviour.
The next day, Toni found the grape clusters gone toothe ones meant to ripen by late August.
“Zena!” she called over the fence.
“What now?”
“Your grandkids have taken the grapes!”
“And? Probably sour anyway.”
“Of course theyre sour! Theyre not ripe! Theyve stripped nearly every bunch!”
“Kids are curious. They tried em and left em.”
Toni felt her temper rise. “Zena, your kids are destroying my garden!”
“Dont be dramatic! Youve got plenty.”
“Thats not the point! Ive spent years tending these plants!”
“Well, keep tending them.”
Zena slammed the door.
That evening, Toni told Peter about the conversation.
“Can you believe it? She wouldnt even apologise!”
“What did you expect?” Peter shrugged. “Easier for her to brush it off than teach the kids manners.”
“Its stealing!”
“Love, theyre just kids. They dont know better.”
“The eldest is thirteen! He should know not to take what isnt his!”
Peter sighed. He didnt want a feud over berries.
A few days later, even the gooseberries were gone.
“Thats it,” Toni said firmly.
She marched back to Zenas. Zena was watering her flowers.
“Now theyve taken the gooseberries!”
“What gooseberries?”
“Mine! Your grandkids were over the fence again!”
“Toni, youre blowing this out of proportion! Kids picking a few berries isnt the end of the world.”
“They didnt pick a fewthey took everything!”
“Stop blaming the kids! This is your fault!”
Toni stared. “My fault?”
“You let them run wild in your garden! They think everythings fair game!”
“I was being kind! Letting them play together!”
“Well, look where that got you!”
Zena stormed off, muttering, “If you didnt want them taking stuff, you shouldve built a taller fence.”
Toni went home, sat on the bench, and cried. Years of work, gone.
“Dont take on so,” Peter comforted. “Therell be more berries next year.”
“Its not about the berries! Its that she wont even apologise!”
“What can you do? You know what shes like.”
Zena had a reputation in the village for being difficult, but until now, theyd got along fine.
“Peter, lets raise the fence.”
“Itll cost a bit.”
“What choice do we have? Theyll wreck the place otherwise.”
The next day, work began. Peter brought in timber, mesh, and posts, working dawn till dusk.
Zena watched from her garden, sneering, “How tight can you get? Fencing off kids!”
Toni ignored her, jaw clenched.
Zenas grandkids circled the fence, hunting for gaps, but Peter sealed every one.
“Auntie Toni, whyd you build the fence?” little Katie asked.
“To keep the berries safe.”
“Can we still come play?”
“No. Not anymore.”
The fence helped, but the relationship with Zena was ruined. Shed turn away when they passed, and the kids stopped visiting.
“Mean old miser!” theyd shout over the fence. “Stingy old cow!”
Toni tried to ignore it, but it weighed on her. The garden, once full of laughter, was now silent.
Meanwhile, Zena spun her own tale to the other villagers:
“Would you believe it? Wont even let kids have a berry! Built a ruddy great fence!”
“Did they take much?” neighbours asked.
“A handful! But youd think theyd nicked her life savings!”
Zenas version won sympathy. Whod believe kids could strip bushes bare?
Soon, the village saw Toni as the grumpy one, Zena as the saintly gran raising five grandkids alone.
By summers end, things got worse. With no access to the garden, the kids found other ways to lash outkicking balls over, tossing rubbish. One morning, Toni found cigarette butts and sweet wrappers strewn over the veg patch.
“Zena, control your grandkids!”
“Whatd they do?”
“Threw litter everywhere!”
“How dyou know it was mine? Couldve been the wind.”
The mischief continuedhoses sprayed over the fence, stones tossed at windows.
Toni realised Zena wasnt just letting it happenshe was egging them on.
“Peter, should we call the police?”
“Over kids pranks? Dont be daft.”
“But its vandalism!”
“Just hang on. Summers nearly over.”
Sure enough, by late August, the noisy bunch left for the city.
That evening, Toni sat quietly on the bench, dreading next summer. Zena would bring the kids back. Then what? More tension, more stones, more name-calling? The kids already saw her as the wicked old witch, and Zena wouldnt correct them.
The garden didnt feel like her happy place anymoreit was a fortress, and not just for berries. Her peace was under siege too.
What would you have done? Whats your advice for Toni? Drop your thoughts below!
