Early Spring
Little four-year-old Emily was eyeing the “newcomer” in their neighbourhooda retired gentleman with silver-grey hair, sitting on a bench. He held a walking stick, leaning on it like a wizard from a fairy tale.
Emily wasted no time asking:
“Grandad, are you a wizard?”
When he said no, her face fell just a little.
“Then why d’you have a staff?” she pressed.
“Its for walking, lovemakes it easier,” explained George Wilson, introducing himself.
“So youre really old, then?” Emily blinked up at him.
“By your standards, maybe. By mine, not quite. Just had a bad fallbroke my leg. Still healing, hence the stick.”
Just then, her nan, Margaret, appeared, taking her hand to head to the park. She greeted the new neighbour warmly, and he smiled back. But the real friendship blossomed between George and Emily. The little girl would often dash out early while waiting for her nan, eager to share updatestodays weather, what Margaret had cooked for lunch, or why her best friend had been off school last week.
George always had a treat for her: a posh chocolate. And every time, without fail, Emily would thank him, unwrap it, take one neat bitethen carefully fold the other half into the wrapper and tuck it into her coat pocket.
“Not keen on it?” George teased once.
“Its lovely! But Im saving half for Nan,” she explained.
Touched, he brought two chocolates next time. Yet Emily still halved one and tucked the rest away.
“Whos the lucky one now?” George chuckled. “Youre thriftier than a squirrel!”
“Mum and Dad! They *could* buy their own, but they like being spoiled too,” she reasoned.
“Ah, so youve got a tight-knit lot, then. Lucky girland a kind heart to boot.”
“Nans even kinder. She loves *everyone*,” Emily started, but Margaret was already at the door, beckoning.
“Oh, George, thank you for the sweets, but reallyEmily and I shouldnt indulge. Doctors orders,” Margaret said apologetically.
“Well now, thats a pickle. What *can* I spoil you with, then?”
“Weve plenty at home, truly,” she laughed.
“Nonsense. Good neighbourly relations demand treats. Im not giving up,” George declared.
Margaret relented. “Finenuts. But well only eat them at home, with clean hands. Deal?”
Emily and George nodded. Soon, her pockets were full of walnuts or hazelnuts after their walks.
“Youre my little squirrel,” Margaret sighed. “But these arent cheap, loveGeorge needs his medicines, you know.”
“Hes *not* old, and his legs getting better!” Emily huffed. “Hes even going skiing by winter!”
“Skiing?!” Margaret raised a brow. “Well, good for him.”
“Nan, can *I* have skis?” Emily begged. “George promised to teach me!”
In the park, Margaret soon spotted George striding alongno stick in sight.
“Grandad, wait for me!” Emily sprinted to join him.
“Hold up, thenwait for me too!” Margaret called, hurrying after.
Their trio became a fixture. Emilys energy was boundlessdancing ahead, clambering onto benches, then marching beside them, chanting, “*Left, right, left, right! Eyes forward!*”
Afterwards, Margaret and George would rest on the bench while Emily played. But shed always return for her nutty “salary” from George.
“Youre spoiling her,” Margaret fretted. “Lets save this for holidays, please?”
Over time, George shared how hed lost his wife five years prior and recently downsizeda one-bed flat for him, a two-bed for his sons family.
“Quieter life, but still neighbours matter.”
Two days later, George answered a knock to find Emily and Margaret bearing a plate of scones.
“Our turn to treat *you*,” Margaret said.
“Got a kettle?” Emily added.
“Absolute bliss!” George ushered them in.
Over tea, Emily marvelled at his bookcase and framed landscapes while Margaret watched, amused by his patience as he explained each one.
“My grandkids are off at uni. Miss em,” George admitted. “Your nans still young, though!” He ruffled Emilys hair and handed her paper and pencils.
“Only two years retiredno time to mope,” Margaret said, nodding at Emily. “Plus, my daughters expecting again. Lucky were just next door, really.”
By winter, true to her word, Margaret bought Emily skis. The trio took to the parks groomed trails, George and Margaret chatting while Emily zigzagged ahead.
But one day, George left to visit family in London.
Emily moped. “Whens Grandad back?”
“A full month, he said. Well keep an eye on his flat,” Margaret repliedthough she missed him too: his jokes, the odd DIY fix, the way he made their outings brighter.
On the eighth day, Margaret stepped outsideand there he was, on *his* bench.
“Back so soon?” she gasped.
“Londons noise wore me out. Everyones busy Missed this place. Missed *you*.”
“Did you bring your grandkids sweets?” Emily asked.
George laughed. “Theyre past that. Gave em cash insteadstudents always skint.”
“Glad youre home,” Margaret said softly. “Feels right now.”
Emily hugged him fiercely.
“Weve stacks of pancakes insideall sorts. Come on, teas waiting,” Margaret urged as a light drizzle began.
George linked arms with her, took Emilys hand, and they hurried inside.
“Whys it so mild today?” he mused.
“Cause springs coming!” Emily cheered. “Soon its Mothers Day, and Nans hosting*youre* invited!”
“Bless you both,” George murmured, climbing the stairs.
After tea, he presented gifts: a painted nesting doll for Emily, a silver brooch for Margaret.
Outside, their usual route was half-melted, puddles gleaming. Emily hopped over cracks, chanting, “*Left, right! Faster!*”
George and Margaret exchanged a glancethen, laughing, sped up to chase her.
