The rain drummed steadily on the roof of the cottage when Margaret heard a timid knock at the door. She set aside her knitting and listened. The knock came again—hesitant, almost apologetic.
“Who’s there?” she called, approaching the door.
“Please, could you let me in?” came a faint female voice. “I’ve gotten lost…”
Margaret opened the door a crack, still on the chain. On the step stood a woman in her mid-twenties, soaked to the bone. Her dark hair clung to her face, her light jacket drenched. She clutched a small handbag.
“Good heavens, you’re soaked through!” Margaret unhooked the chain and swung the door wide. “Come in, before you catch your death!”
“Thank you so much,” the girl murmured, stepping inside, her wet shoes leaving prints on the mat. “I’m Emily. I was following a path, but it led me into the woods. My phone died, and now I don’t even know where I am…”
“Off with that jacket at once!” Margaret bustled about, helping her out of the wet coat. “You’re dripping everywhere! What on earth were you doing out alone in this weather?”
Emily lowered her eyes.
“I had a row with… my boyfriend. He made me get out of the car, said I could walk. I didn’t realise how far it was to town…”
“The nerve of him!” Margaret huffed. “Leaving a young woman out in the woods! Straight to the kitchen with you—I’ll put the kettle on. You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Emily followed her into the small but cosy kitchen. Margaret switched on the electric kettle and fetched a thick dressing gown.
“Here, change into this. We’ll hang your clothes by the radiator—they’ll dry by morning. Where are you from?”
“Oh, out in the counties,” Emily replied vaguely, gratefully accepting the robe. “I work in town, at an office.”
“You young people these days!” Margaret shook her head. “In my day, men had some decency—wouldn’t dream of treating a woman so poorly. But now?” She tutted. “Sit down, I’ll fix you a proper meal.”
Margaret busied herself at the stove, pulling eggs and butter from the fridge, frying them up with a pinch of salt. She sliced bread, set out pickles from her own stores.
“Eat up, don’t be shy,” she said, setting the plate before Emily. “You look half-starved. When did you last eat?”
“A bite this morning,” Emily admitted, digging in hungrily. “We were driving all day, arguing…”
“What was it about, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Emily chewed her toast slowly before answering.
“He wanted us to move in together. But I’ve got my job, my plans. I’m not ready. So he got angry, said awful things…”
“Quite right not to rush,” Margaret nodded approvingly. “At your age, I didn’t wait—married the first chap who asked. Thought love would see us through. It didn’t. Left me with our boy when he ran off with another woman.”
“You have a son?” Emily asked.
“Had,” Margaret’s face darkened. “Grown now, with a family of his own. But we… don’t get on. Rarely see him.”
She poured herself tea, stirring absently.
“Do you live here alone?” Emily ventured.
“Aye. Late husband—second one—built this place. Good man, gone too soon. Come summers, I stay here, though not every year. Flat in town for the winters.”
Emily nodded, finishing her meal. The rain had eased, but dusk settled outside.
“Listen, love,” Margaret said, “stay the night. Morning’s soon enough to get you to the bus stop. No sense wandering out now in the dark.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose…”
“Nonsense! Company’s welcome. The sofa in the parlour’s comfy, fresh linen too. Make yourself at home.”
They talked long into the evening. Emily spoke of her job at a retail firm, the trials of renting in town. Margaret shared tales of her youth, sighing over loneliness.
“All my friends are gone—passed or moved near their children. Neighbours here are poorly, elderly. Gets dull, just me and the walls…”
“Why don’t you see your son?” Emily asked gently.
Margaret’s expression soured.
“His wife can’t stand me. Says I meddle. Can’t I ask after my own grandchildren? Now even holidays pass without word…”
Morning brought clear skies. Margaret packed Emily a breakfast parcel, walked her to the bus stop.
“Thank you, truly,” Emily said earnestly. “You saved me.”
“Go on with you! Come again, if you like. There’s pen and paper—write the address down.”
Emily tapped it into her phone, waving from the bus window.
Weeks passed. Margaret had nearly forgotten her unexpected guest when the knock came again.
“Emily!” She beamed, opening the door. “How are you, lass? Come in!”
“Would you mind if I stayed a night or two?” Emily asked sheepishly. “They’re renovating my building—nowhere to stay. Landlady said I ought to lodge with family, but I’ve none close…”
“Course you can stay! Long as you need. Brightens my days.”
Emily settled into the small upstairs room. Helped with chores, cooked, cleaned. Margaret delighted in the help.
“Better than a daughter,” she told Mrs. Wilkins next door. “Cooks a roast proper, even darns socks. Wish my son had married such a girl…”
Days flowed quietly. Emily left for work mornings, returned evenings. They shared meals, telly, news.
“Emily, love,” Margaret said one evening, “I’ve been thinking of my will. Flat to my son, but this cottage… Might leave it to you. No one else wants it, and you’ve been happy here.”
Emily flushed.
“Margaret, don’t! It’s too soon for such talk. And it wouldn’t be right. You’ve family…”
“Family who treat me like a stranger. You’ve been like a daughter.”
Time passed. Emily belonged now, as if she’d always been there. Margaret thrived under the care, no longer lonely.
Then everything changed.
Margaret lay in hospital after a heart attack. Emily visited daily, brought treats, read to her.
“Doctor says you’ll be home soon,” Emily said during one visit. “Rest better in your own bed.”
“Emily,” Margaret whispered weakly, “there’s something… In the bedside drawer, back compartment. Important papers. If anything happens—”
“Don’t say that!” Emily cut in. “You’ll be fine!”
But Margaret worsened. Doctors murmured about risky surgery.
Emily returned from the hospital distraught. She opened the drawer, found the will. The cottage was indeed left to her.
She sat a long while, staring at the papers. Then dialled her phone.
“Andrew? It’s Emily. We met… Yes. Your mother’s in hospital—it’s bad. You should come.”
Next day, a man near fifty arrived with his wife and two teens. Andrew resembled his mother—same grey eyes, stubborn jaw.
“Where is she?” he demanded upon entering.
“Hospital. Surgery today,” Emily replied.
“And you are?” His wife eyed her suspiciously.
“I—I’ve been staying here. Margaret said—”
“Of course she did,” the wife sneered. “Another stray.”
Andrew inspected the house, peering into rooms.
“Place has changed. Mum come into money? New telly, fridge…”
“We bought them together,” Emily said softly. “I helped.”
“Helped?” The wife barked a laugh. “With what? Or were you angling for inheritance?”
Emily paled but stayed silent.
At the hospital, Margaret brightened at her son.
“Andrew! You came!” She reached weakly for his hand.
He gave it an awkward shake.
“How are you, Mum? What’s the prognosis?”
“Operation’s needed. Andrew, I’m scared… What if—?”
“Rubbish! You’re tough.” His tone was gruff.
His wife lingered by the door, examining her nails. The kids fidgeted.
“Mum, when’s dinner?” the youngest whined. “This place stinks.”
Back at the cottage, the wife rifled through drawers.
“Andrew, where does she keep her documents? Probably the bedside table.”
They found the will quickly. The wife gasped.
“She’s left the cottage to this stranger! What, are we meant to live on the street? Has she no shame?”
“Come off it,” Andrew muttered. “She’s not dead yet.”
But his wife was already scheming.
When Emily returned from the shops, the air had shifted. Andrew eyed her coldly; his wife bristled.
“Listen, girl,” Andrew began, “Mum said you were staying temporarily. How temporary?”
“I—I don’t know. Until the renovations—”
“Paying rentOne autumn evening, as the wind rattled the bare branches outside, Margaret sat alone by the cold hearth, still waiting for the knock that would never come, while Emily rode a train to Manchester with enough cash to start fresh—her conscience eased by the lie that she’d done the right thing, and the money tucked safely in her coat pocket.
