“Mary, quick! I just saw your daughter-in-law at the shop,” Peter called over the fence, his voice urgent. “She was buying rat poisontwo boxes! Said she had mice. But I know there arent any in your house!” Marys legs nearly gave way. So that was her planto get rid of her and take the house.
“Baron, old friend,” Mary sighed, stepping into the yard with a bowl of porridge. “Just you and me left in this wide world now.” The dog lifted his head, licked her hand gratefully, and set to eating. Mary Turner was sixty-five but carried herself with the vigor of a much younger womanstrong, upright, her silver hair neatly coiled. Only her eyes betrayed the grief she carried, deep and sorrowful, as if the pain had settled there for good.
Six months ago, her son James had died in a motorbike crash. Hed bought the bike for his fortieth birthdaya lifelong dream, hed said. Mary had begged him not to, but what mother could refuse her only child? A month later, the hospital called. Hed lost control on a sharp bend.
After the funeral, Natalie, his widow, took their grandson Liam and moved back to her parents in Manchester. At first, shed let Mary speak to Liam on the phone, but the calls grew fewer. Mary tried to insistshe had a legal right to see her grandson. But Natalie always had an excuse: Liam was ill, she was too busy. Then she changed her number.
Mary went to their old flat, but the neighbors said Natalie and her parents had sold up and moved awayno one knew where.
“Oi, Mary! Still alive?” Peters voice boomed over the fence. The spry seventy-year-old widower had been a family friend for decades. After her husband passed, Peter had taken it upon himself to check in on her.
“Alive and kicking, Peter,” Mary forced a smile. “Come in for tea.”
“Cant todayoff to town for the chemist and groceries. Need anything?”
“No, Im all right.”
Peter frowned. “Youre holed up here like an owl. Its not right, Mary. Lifes for living.”
After he left, Mary wandered back inside. The hallway walls were lined with photographsher whole life laid bare. There she was, young and radiant on her wedding day; there was James taking his first steps; later, a grown man with Natalie and baby Liam. All smiles. All gone.
She sighed heavily and moved to the kitchen. The day stretched endlessly. The telly droned, but she couldnt focus. She picked up her knitting, but her hands wouldnt cooperate. Defeated, she went to bed early, hoping sleep would bring respite.
“Mum! Mum!”
Marys eyes flew open. James stood before heryoung, smiling, wearing the checked shirt shed given him for his birthday.
“James!” she sobbed. “My boy!”
“Dont cry, Mum,” he said gently. “I came to warn you. Be careful. Evils closeright beside you. Keep safe.”
“What evil? James!”
But he was already fading into the dawn light. Mary woke in tears. Outside, the morning chorus had begun, the air crisp and clear. The dream felt so real, as if hed truly visited.
She washed her face and stepped outside. The sunrise over the river was breathtaking, the mist rising like a phantom. Her heart ached with its beauty.
“Granny Mary! Granny!”
A little girlSophie, nine years oldraced up the path. Her parents had died in a car crash two years prior, and she lived at the local childrens home. Mary visited often, bringing sweets and helping with homework.
“Sophie, love! Why so early?”
“Were off potato picking at Farmer Greens. I came to say goodbyeback in a week!”
“Wait!” Mary hurried inside and returned with a parcel. “Hereapple pastries, fruit from the garden, and sweets. Share with the others.”
“Thank you!” Sophie hugged her tightly. “I love you!”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Be careful.”
As Sophie trotted off, Mary watched until she disappeared. How often shed thought of taking the girl in! But a lone elderly woman wouldnt be granted custody. They wanted stable families, steady incomes, medical checks. What family did she have left?
The day passed in quiet choresweeding, feeding the chickens, cooking. By evening, exhaustion took over, and she slept deeply. The dream returned.
This time, James stood by the gate, waving frantically. “Dont let her in! Mum, its not safe!”
A pounding at the door woke her. Nearly midnight. Whod come at this hour?
“Whos there?” she called, not opening up.
“Mary, its meNatalie. Please, let me in!”
Natalie? Mary unlatched the door. Her daughter-in-law stood theredisheveled, clutching a large bag, clothes rumpled.
“Sorry its so late. There was a firemy house burned down. Barely got out.”
“Good heavens! Wheres Liam?”
“With my parents. They took him to the seaside. Mary, can I stay? Just until I sort something out?”
Mary studied her. Natalie had never been warm, even before James died. And now, appearing in the dead of night
*Dont let her in.* Jamess warning echoed.
But how could she turn away someone in need?
“Come in,” Mary sighed. “Jamess old rooms free.”
For days, Natalie was helpfulcooking, tidying, even running errands. Mary began to wonder if shed misjudged her. Maybe grief had softened her.
“Its so peaceful here,” Natalie remarked over supper. “The citys chaosthis is heaven.”
“Stay as long as you need,” Mary said.
But a week later, Natalie changed. She lazed about, demanded special meals, even asked to move the telly to her room.
“Mary, you should check the house deeds. I worked in a law firmcould help if theres an error.”
Mary stiffened. Why would Natalie care about deeds?
“Thanks, but everythings in order.”
Natalies lips thinned, and she stalked off. That night, James returned in her dreams.
“Mum, shes plotting. Dont eat or drink anything she gives you.”
“James, what do I do? Shes Liams mother!”
“Liams safe. Youre not. Remember.”
The next morning, Natalie was already in the kitchen. “Porridges readycoffee too. Sit down.”
“Later. Chickens first.”
Outside, Peter leaned over the fence. “Youve gone quiet.”
“Just thinking.”
“Heard Natalies back. How is she?”
“Says her house burned down.”
Peter scowled. “Odd. I was in town yesterdayran into Tim from her old office. Said she was sacked six months ago for theft. And no fire. Shed been living with some bloke who threw her out. Thats why shes here.”
Marys blood ran cold. The dreams *had* been warnings.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Be careful, Mary. Who knows what shes after?”
Days passed. Mary stayed vigilant, cooking her own meals, watching Natalies every move. The younger woman grew bolderrearranging furniture, inviting friends over.
“This house is huge. Why not rent rooms? Extra income.”
“I dont need income. I need peace.”
“Peace, peacelive a little! You could even remarry. Peters a widowerperfect match!”
Mary said nothing, but the message was clear: Natalie wanted her gone.
The answer came suddenly. Peter rushed over one morning, pale.
“Mary, listen! I saw Natalie at the shopbuying rat poison! Two packs! Said she had mice, but youve none!”
Marys knees buckled. So this was her planmurder.
“What do I do?”
“Play dumbbut be ready. If she tries anything, come straight to me.”
That evening, Natalie was oddly sweet. “I baked apple pieyour favorite. And herbal tea.”
“Lovely. Set it outIll be right there.”
Upstairs, Mary texted Peter: *Its happening. Be ready.*
Natalie poured two cups. Mary stalled.
“You know, Natalie, James visited me in a dream last night.”
Natalie flinched. “Oh?”
“Warned me about danger. Said someone meant me harm.”
“Dreams are nonsense,” Natalie laughed nervously. “Drink upitll get cold.”
“Just need sugar.”
Mary switched the cups when Natalie wasnt looking.
Natalie took a long sipthen gasped, clutching her throat.
“Youyou swapped them!”
“Something wrong with your tea, dear? You made it
