Homeless and Hopeless: A Desperate Search for Shelter
Emily had nowhere left to turn. Absolutely nowhere. *Maybe I can sleep at the train station for a few nights. But then what?* Then, like a flicker of hope, it came to her*the cottage! How could I forget?* Though calling it a cottage was generousit was little more than a rundown shack. Still, it was better than a cold bench in Paddington.
Boarding the commuter train, Emily leaned against the icy window and closed her eyes. Memories of the past two years flooded her mindlosing her parents, dropping out of university, scraping by on odd jobs. Then, shed thought her luck had changed when she met James. Kind, dependable James. They married quickly in a small registry office ceremony.
For a while, life seemed steady. But then James convinced her to sell her parents flat in Kensington to start a business. *”Well be stable soon,”* hed promised. *”Then we can think about starting a family.”* She had believed him.
But the business failed. Arguments over money grew bitter, and one day, James brought another woman home. *”Get out,”* he told her coldly. She thought of going to the policebut what could she say? Shed signed over the flat willingly.
The train shuddered to a stop. Emily stepped onto the empty platform, the early spring air sharp against her skin. The cottage had been neglected for years, overgrown with weeds, the wood rotten. *It doesnt matter. Ill fix it.* But she knew nothing would ever be the same.
She found the key under the porch, but the warped door wouldnt budge. She shoved against it, her frustration mounting until, defeated, she sank onto the steps and wept.
Thensmoke. A rustling from the neighbouring garden. Relieved, she hurried over.
“Mrs. Whitmore? Are you home?”
Instead, an unkempt elderly man crouched by a small fire, heating water in a tin mug. She froze.
“Who are you?” she demanded, stepping back. “Wheres Mrs. Whitmore?”
The man raised his hands. “Dont be afraid. And pleasedont call the police. Im not trespassing. I sleep out here.”
His voice was gentle, educatedout of place with his ragged appearance.
“Youre homeless?” she blurted.
He nodded. “Yes. You live next door? I wont bother you.”
“Whats your name?”
“Henry.”
“Henry what?”
“Henry Whitmore,” he said quietly.
Emily studied himhis clothes worn but clean, his beard neatly trimmed.
“I I need help,” she admitted. “The doors stuck.”
“Let me try.”
As he worked, Emily sat on the porch, struck by a sudden thought*Who am I to judge him? Im just as lost.*
With a creak, the door gave way. “There you are, love,” Henry said. “Planning to stay?”
“Where else?”
“Got heating in there?”
“Just an old stove” She hesitated.
“Wood?”
She shook her head.
“Right. Wait here.”
An hour later, the cottage was swept cleanbut still freezing. Then Henry returned, arms full of firewood. To her surprise, she was glad for the company.
He lit the stove, the warmth slowly filling the room. “Keep feeding it slowly. Dont leave it burning overnight,” he instructed.
“And you? Where will you go?”
“Back to the garden.”
“Wait.” She bit her lip. “Stay for tea. Then if youd like, theres a spare room.”
He didnt refuse.
Over dinner, Henry told his storya retired Oxford professor, swindled by his own niece. Shed sold his flat, vanished with the money, left him with nothing.
“Its a rotten shame,” he murmured. “But youyoure young. Youll find your way.”
Emily smiled faintly. “Enough sadness. Lets eat.”
Watching him devour spaghetti on toast, her heart ached. *How awful, to be so alone.*
Then”Emily, I can help you return to university. Ive still got friends there. Theyll arrange a scholarship.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Consider it done.”
Later, as he rose to leave, she stopped him. “Stay. Please. Im scared of the stove. Scared of being alone.”
He met her gaze. “I wont leave you.”
Two years later, Emily rushed through the cottage door, beaming. “Grandad! I aced my exams!”
Henrynow clean-shaven, wearing a proper jumpergrinned. “I knew you would!”
As they celebrated with tea and Victoria sponge, he gestured outside. “Planted some roses. Thought wed build a pergola.”
She laughed. “Its your home. Do what you like!”
And it *was* his home. No longer alone, he had a granddaughter. And Emily? She had family againsomeone whod saved her when she needed it most.
