When Ellie’s family returns from their Christmas holiday, they are surprised to find their house egged and a cryptic note left behind. Determined to find the culprit, Ellie checks the security footage and discovers that the vandal is someone very close to her. A confrontation with this person reveals years of resentment and manipulation that nearly destroyed their bond. Will Ellie be able to cope with this?
Christmas has always been about family. That’s why for the past four years, my husband Ethan, our seven-year-old daughter Maddie, our five-year-old son Noah and I have made it a tradition to go away to the islands.
Just the four of us, basking in the sunshine, recuperating before a whirlwind of holiday dinners and social obligations.
And this year was no exception. Or so I thought.
When we pulled into our driveway after our trip, I froze.
Our house looked like a crime scene.
There were sticky streams of raw eggs dripping off the walls, the porch was littered with broken eggshells, and even the holiday wreath I had lovingly created was splattered and stinky.
‘What the hell?’ muttered Ethan as he got out of the car, Noah following at his heels.
‘Mum, what’s wrong?’ asked Maddie from the back seat.
‘I don’t know, honey,’ I replied, feeling a knot tighten in my chest.
Noah crouched down next to the mess.
‘Daddy, can a bird do that?’ – he asked.
I tried to stay calm for the sake of the kids, but inside me everything was boiling.
Who could have done this?
We were good neighbours – no, we were great neighbours! I baked biscuits for new families, helped organise block parties and never turned down an opportunity to help.
This wasn’t random vandalism. It was purposeful. That’s the way it should be.
Then Ethan found the note. It was stuffed under the doorjamb, the edges crumpled and damp. He held it out to me.
This is for what you took from me before Christmas.
I stared at the words, my thoughts racing.
What had I taken away? And from whom?
That night, after putting the kids to bed, Ethan and I went straight to the security cameras. As we scrolled through the footage, my stomach cramped.
The camera captured a hooded figure sneaking down our driveway with cartons of eggs in hand. Each throw was deliberate, as if they had rehearsed the movement. This wasn’t a prank, this was a vendetta.
‘This is crazy,’ Ethan said. ‘Who does something like this anyway? It’s a drunken prank for rowdy teenagers. Eggs and toilet paper.’
Then something about the figure made me freeze. The way they tilted their head. The way their shoulders slouched between throws. It took my breath away.
‘No,’ I whispered, shaking my head. ‘This can’t be happening.’
But it was.
The hooded figure who had vandalised our house was my mother.
The next morning, I left Ethan with the kids and drove to my mother’s house. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly I thought I might break it in two.
When I rang the bell, she opened the door with her usual warm smile.
‘Ellie! What a surprise!’
‘Why?’ I whispered, letting the pleasantries pass my ears. ‘Just explain why.’
Her smile trembled.
‘Why what? Explain what?’ – She asked.
‘Why did you do this to us? Don’t even try to hide it, Mum. Come on!’
She blinked, her face pale as she tried to think of what to say. Then she looked away, her expression darkened with guilt.
‘Let’s sit down, Elle,’ she said.
‘I don’t want to sit down, Mum. I want to know why you took the trouble to spoil my house.’
‘It’s all because of your mother-in-law,’ she finally said, her voice becoming hard.
‘What does Gloria have to do with it?’ I asked.
‘She called me, Eleanor,’ Mum snapped, anger rising in her voice. ‘Just before Christmas, she called to gloat about how you and Ethan took her on your precious island holiday. She said you made her feel so important, so special. And that she got to spend time with her kids. And me, oh, I was just left here sitting alone in the cold.’
I stared at her, completely stunned.
‘Mum,’ I said quietly. ‘We didn’t take Gloria with us. That’s not true at all. She wasn’t on the trip, I promise!’
Mum’s eyes widened.
‘But then…why did she say that?’
‘To hurt you,’ I said, my voice soft but firm. ‘To make you feel this way. To drive a wedge between us. Why did I have to accept Gloria and not my own mother?’
She sank down on the couch, covering her face with her hands.
‘I was so angry, Ellie. I felt invisible, like I didn’t matter to you anymore. And I…I lost control of myself.’
Her words pierced to the core because they weren’t entirely wrong.
To be completely honest, the truth was that I had let my mum take a back seat in our lives. I adored her, of course, but while raising two young children, working full-time and managing everything else, I didn’t notice how isolated she became.
Looking back, I can see that the signs were there. The fluctuations in her voice during phone calls, the way she stopped dropping by unannounced, usually with baked goods for all of us.
I let my schedule get out of whack. And I didn’t think about the consequences.
‘Mum,’ I said softly, sitting down next to her. ‘What you did was wrong. But I understand why you were hurt. And I’m sorry if I made you feel abandoned. I let my life get away from me, Mum. It wasn’t easy, balancing work and children.’
Her face crinkled.
‘I’m so sorry, Ellie,’ she said. ‘I’ll make it up to you! I promise! I’ll pay for the cleaning and do whatever you need me to do.’
‘We’ll clean it up, Mum,’ I interrupted. ‘Together. But we’ll start by fixing ourselves. No more games. No more letting other people’s words distort our feelings. Okay?’
She nodded, her relief palpable. We hugged, and for the first time in years, I felt like the walls between us had finally crumbled.
After lunch, Mum came in with a bucket of soapy water and a stack of rags. Together we scrubbed the egg off the walls, porch and windows.
It was dirty, smelly, gruelling work, but somehow with each strip we scrubbed off it felt like we were erasing years of tension.
By the time we were done, the house looked – and felt – whole again.
That evening, after Ethan and I made the kids grilled cheese sandwiches and put them to bed, we sat down to talk over a glass of wine.
‘Babe, it was your mum who started all this. Gloria called my mum and told her she was holidaying with us and having the best time of her life. She made it so real that my mum broke down.’
‘You’re kidding, Elle,’ Ethan said, shaking his head. ‘She actually did it? What was she thinking?’
‘I have no idea, but I think you need to talk to her. I need to focus on Mum, darling. She’s been feeling abandoned for years and this was just her breaking point. I’m sorry, but Gloria is on your conscience.’
‘I’ll call her,’ Ethan said, his voice firm. ‘She’ll have no choice but to tell me the truth.’
Ethan went to our bedroom and called his mum and I called my mum again.
‘Mum, why don’t you come over and celebrate New Year’s Eve with us? We’ll just be at home, okay? We’ll just eat and drink and have a good time!’
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then her voice rang out in a way I hadn’t heard in a long time.
‘Do you really think so?’ – She asked.
‘Yes, Mum,’ I replied. ‘It’s time.’
On New Year’s Eve, Mum came in with a tray of homemade dumplings, chocolate cake and lagtons for the kids. She was wearing a sparkling dress that made her look about ten years younger.
Maddie and Noah rushed to meet her at the door, clinging to her legs as she bustled around them. Ethan handed her a glass of champagne and even managed to make her laugh with one of his notoriously awful jokes.
At midnight, as fireworks lit up the sky outside the window, we raised our glasses together.
‘Let’s drink to new beginnings,’ my mum said quietly.
I looked around the room – the happy, sleepy faces of my children, my husband’s arm around my shoulders, and my mum glowing with happiness. Something had changed.
A week later, Ethan and I were sitting with Gloria at a coffee shop.
‘Mum, explain yourself,’ Ethan said, adding sugar to the coffee. ‘And don’t deny anything. Be honest.’
‘I lied to your mum because I was hurt that you didn’t invite us. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I think I was overcome with loneliness too. You know how the holidays sneak up on widows…’
‘Why didn’t you just go and spend time with her?’ I asked, taking a bite out of my croissant. ‘You were both lonely. You could have spent time together and enjoyed the holidays getting to know each other better. You could have watched films, baked and chatted until the early hours of the morning.’
‘I wasn’t thinking, Ellie,’ she said, her voice trailing off. ‘I’d take it all back in a heartbeat if I could, I promise you.’
For a while we were all silent.
‘So what now?’ asked Ethan.
‘I’m going to call Irene and make things right. I’m going to have a tea party with her and fix everything. We’re going to fix everything. You’ll see.’
‘I hope so, Gloria,’ I said. ‘Because we can’t have kids torn between their grandmothers. I’m not going to let that happen.’
‘You bet!’ – she exclaimed. ‘I wouldn’t let that happen either. I’ll fix it, Ellie. Don’t worry about it, honey.’
Eventually we left our mothers to their own devices, and slowly but surely they mended their relationship. They are now mahjong buddies who bake something new every weekend.
And by the way, I can’t stand eggs anymore.
What would you do?
