A Stranger Yet Family
“Mum Fay, how are you? Anton and I were passing by after shopping and thought we’d pop in—got you something,” Julia hugged the woman who wasn’t her birth mother but had become so in every way that mattered.
They’d agreed years ago—Fay and Julia would be mother and daughter. Fay was nearing seventy, sixty-six to be exact. Life hadn’t been kind to her, filled with hardships and sorrow. She’d endured it all.
But thirteen years ago, fate smiled on her when Julia stumbled into her life. One evening, there was a knock at Fay’s cottage door. She opened it to find a young woman, bruised and shivering. Without hesitation, Fay pulled her inside.
“Come in, love, come in,” Fay murmured, glancing past her into the dark. “Don’t be afraid—I live alone. What’s happened to you?” she fussed, helping her out of a tattered coat.
It was autumn, early but already damp and bitter.
“What’s your name?” Fay asked gently. “I’m Fay Stephens—call me Auntie Fay if you like, or just Fay.”
“Julia,” the girl whispered before breaking into quiet sobs.
“Go on, love, cry it out,” Fay soothed, stroking her hair. She fetched her first-aid box, cleaned the scrape on Julia’s cheek, and made her a strong cup of tea. The girl refused food, so Fay didn’t press. The story would come in time.
Eventually, Julia thawed.
“Thank you, Auntie Fay. I was so cold—I walked all day, don’t even know how far. What village is this? It was dark when I got here.”
“This is Haysfield. Where’ve you come from?”
“My husband and I lived in town. We’d only been married two years. At first, he seemed fine, but then… he changed. His temper, the way he treated me. I wanted a child, but he refused. Then I fell pregnant anyway. When I told him, he—” Julia shuddered. “I ran. Had nowhere to go—I grew up in care. I just walked, terrified he’d follow. Saw your lane and…”
“Oh, love,” Fay sighed. “You’re safe now. Stay as long as you need. Stay forever, if you like—I’ve got no one.”
And so Julia did. She had her son, Anton, and Fay helped raise him as her own. The village women remarked on it at the shop:
“Your Julia’s a good sort, Fay. Respectful. And that boy of hers—polite as anything. Funny how life works, eh? Your own daughter left, but the Lord sent you Julia.”
“Aye,” Fay agreed. “We were two lost souls that night. Now, with Anton, there’s no room for loneliness.”
Then came Max, a local man who’d taken a shine to Julia. Her quiet kindness drew him in, and Anton being part of the deal didn’t put him off. His first marriage had ended badly—his wife refused children and ran off to live wildly elsewhere. He’d sworn off love till Julia.
He proposed. Julia hesitated, but Fay urged her:
“Take him, love. Good man, steady. He’ll treat Anton right.”
“But you’ll be alone again.”
“Nonsense! He lives two doors down. We’ll still see each other daily.”
So Julia married Max. He welcomed Anton, and they later had a daughter. Fay remained in her cottage, but they looked after her—Max too, treating her like family.
It hadn’t always been this way.
Long ago, Fay had married Archie, believing it love. They had a daughter, Vera. At first, it was tolerable, living with her mother-in-law, who was decent enough. But Archie started drinking, staying out late.
“Where d’you slink off to?” his mother scolded. “Wife and child waiting, and you—”
He blamed work, then his mates. But the village knew the truth—he was carrying on with Tamara, a woman with a reputation.
Fay wanted to leave, but her mother-in-law pleaded:
“Don’t rush, Fay. Give him time—Vera’s still young.”
But it got worse. She fled to her mother’s cottage with Vera. Just the two of them now—her father long gone, her mother ailing. When her mother died, it was just Fay and Vera struggling on.
Years passed. Vera married a local lad, but it fell apart in three years. No children.
Meanwhile, Zach courted Fay. Vera encouraged it: “Marry him, Mum—he’s decent.” And he was, at first. Then Vera divorced and moved back in.
Things soured. When Fay was hospitalised with heart trouble, Vera assured her:
“Don’t worry—I’ll look after Zach.”
She did. Too well.
Fay returned to find her husband and daughter entwined on the porch. The neighbour had warned her: “Keep an eye on those two.”
At dinner, Fay confronted them.
“How could you? My own daughter—”
Vera smirked. “You were gone. I stepped in.”
Zach didn’t deny it.
“Out,” Fay said coldly. “Both of you.”
Vera sneered. “Where? This is my home too.”
“Your problem now.”
They left. A year later, Zach returned, begging forgiveness.
“Vera’s gone—brought men home. Take me back.”
Fay shut the door in his face.
Vera never came back. A neighbour spotted her in town:
“Your mum’s alone, Vera.”
“So? I’ve got men keeping me fed and clothed. What’s she got? Nothing. Tell her I’m dead to her.”
Fay merely wiped her eyes. “God judge her.”
Then came Julia, and life bloomed anew. Now, with a daughter, grandchildren, and a son-in-law nearby, Fay’s cottage brimmed with love. Strangers no more—family.
