Margaret was setting the table for supper, preparing a quiet, cosy evening for herself and her husband. The peace hung heavy in the air until a sharp knock at the door shattered the stillness. They hadn’t been expecting guests, and the sound lingered like an omen of something unforeseen.
“Thomas, would you mind seeing who that is?” Margaret called from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.
With a sigh, Thomas tore himself away from the telly and trudged to the door. When he opened it, he froze, disbelief flashing across his face.
“Aunt Beatrice? Good heavens, where have you sprung from?” His voice held genuine surprise. Before him stood his late mother’s elder sister, a woman he hadn’t seen in years.
“Good evening, Tommy,” Beatrice smiled, though weariness flickered in her eyes. “Thought I’d pay you a visit. May I come in?”
“Of course!” Thomas stepped aside. “You might’ve given us a ring. I’d have met you at the station.”
“Oh, it all came about rather suddenly,” she replied, setting down a heavy bag. “I’d just been up north visiting your cousin Elizabeth in Manchester, and then I fancied coming your way for a spell.”
Margaret emerged from the kitchen, adjusting her apron. At the sight of their guest, her lips pressed thin.
“Hello, Beatrice. What a surprise. Will you stay for supper?”
“Don’t mind if I do, thank you,” Beatrice answered, heading to the loo to wash her hands.
Margaret shot Thomas a pointed look, barely concealing her irritation.
“I had no idea she was coming,” he whispered defensively.
“And how long is she staying?” Margaret crossed her arms. “Are we meant to play tour guide and hostess all week? What’s this about?”
“Calm down, we’ll sort it,” Thomas muttered, trying to keep the peace.
When Beatrice returned, she set a parcel of treats on the table.
“Brought some bits from the countryside—fresh honey from a neighbour, herbs, a bit of home-cured bacon. You’d pay a pretty penny for this in the city. So, tell me, how are you getting on? How’s young William?”
“Managing as best we can,” Thomas sighed. “Mortgage hanging over us, work keeping us busy. William’s in Year Eleven now, taken to coding. Should be back from football soon. And how’ve you been?”
“Glad you’ve made a home of your own,” Beatrice nodded. “After your mother passed, Tommy, we all rather lost touch. Life gets in the way, I suppose. But it’s lonely out in the country these days. Growing old isn’t all roses, as they say.”
“Your shepherd’s pie is divine, Margaret,” Beatrice added after a bite. “And such a snug little house you’ve made.”
Margaret forced a smile. The praise was flattering, but the intrusion still rankled.
“How long will you be staying?” she asked carefully. Thomas gave her a warning glance.
“Just a few days,” Beatrice replied. “Fancied seeing the city again—been too long. Then I’ll be off. It’s lovely to catch up with you all. You’ve a fine home, Margaret, and such a gracious hostess.”
The compliment pricked Margaret’s conscience, but the situation still nettled her.
“You’ll have to make do with the sofa, I’m afraid,” she said. “Only two bedrooms—ours and William’s.”
“Oh, I’m easy to please,” Beatrice waved a hand. “The meal was splendid, thank you.”
Just then, the front door burst open, and William stumbled in, breathless, his kit bag slung over his shoulder.
“Will, this is your great-aunt Beatrice, your grandmother’s sister,” Thomas explained. “You wouldn’t remember—you were just a lad when we last saw her.”
“Hello,” William studied her curiously. “You do look a bit like Gran.”
“Pleasure to finally meet you, William,” Beatrice smiled. “Heard you’ve a knack for computers?”
“Yeah,” he perked up. “Though mine’s ancient—takes forever to load anything.”
“Keep at it,” she encouraged. “Programmers are worth their weight in gold these days.”
“What did you used to do?” William asked.
“I was a surgeon, then taught at the medical college. Married later, moved to the countryside. Helping folks—that’s what matters, William.”
“Brilliant,” he grinned, impressed.
“Let’s get you settled,” Thomas said. “I’ve the day off tomorrow—can show you round if you like.”
“Thank you, Tommy,” Beatrice said, her voice trembling with gratitude.
Later, in bed, Margaret hissed at Thomas,
“What’s all this about? Turning up unannounced, bearing honey and bacon, expecting us to be thrilled? Now we must entertain her!”
“Margaret, please,” Thomas whispered. “She’s my only living aunt. Raised my mother after their parents died. Lost two husbands, her son—all alone now. Just humour her for a couple of days.”
“I know her story. But that doesn’t excuse this,” Margaret huffed. “Tomorrow, I’m visiting Mum. You can play guide.”
“Fine,” Thomas sighed.
The next day, Thomas, Beatrice, and William explored the city. Margaret spent the day at her mother’s. Returning that evening, she was met with laughter and a kitchen table piled with shopping bags.
“What on earth—?” she gaped.
“Margaret, I’ve brought you all a few things!” Beatrice beamed. “New china for you, fresh linens. And William—I got that computer he’s been after!”
“Mum, can you believe it?” William nearly bounced. “Aunt Bea bought me a proper gaming rig!”
Margaret’s jaw slackened as she stared between them.
“Beatrice, that’s far too generous—”
“Nonsense,” Beatrice dismissed. “I’ve no need to scrimp these days. Seeing William’s face was worth every penny. We’ve had such a lovely day. Thank you for having me. You’re all the family I’ve left.”
Still stunned, Margaret unpacked the gifts and began supper with the fresh ingredients. The woman’s generosity was staggering.
Over a bottle of wine, Beatrice raised her glass.
“To your fine family. Your kindness means the world. When I visited your cousin in Manchester, she near slammed the door in my face. Made it plain I wasn’t welcome. Had to stay in a hotel. But you—you took me in without a second thought. That’s the mark of good people.”
She paused, warmth in her gaze.
“You’ve grown into a fine man, Tommy. Didn’t turn an old woman away. That’s worth more than money. To your good hearts!”
“Aunt Bea, you’re too kind,” Thomas murmured.
“But there’s something else,” Beatrice continued. “Years ago, I saved a man’s life—performed a risky surgery. Recently, I learned he’d left me a flat in central London. A token of thanks. I’ve no need for it, so I’m signing it over to you, Tommy. Do as you please—live there, sell it, clear your mortgage. We’ll see the solicitor tomorrow.”
“A—flat? For me?” Thomas choked.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “You’re the only family who’s shown me kindness. No strings. Just visit me now and then.”
Margaret flushed hot with sudden shame.
That evening, they talked long into the night, Beatrice sharing tales of her youth. Margaret realized, with a pang, how wrongly she’d judged their guest—a woman of depth, wit, and startling generosity.
The next day, the papers were signed. Beatrice left for her village, seen off at the station by Thomas and William.
The family could scarcely believe it—owners of a London flat. They’d visit first, then decide. Sell this house, be free of the mortgage. Life had turned like the pages of a fairy tale.
An unexpected guest, an unimaginable gift. Life, it seemed, had a way of surprising you when you least expected it.
