The story continued…
Weve decided it would be better if you lived separately Dennis finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of his own words.
Separately? Anna stared at him, bewildered. What do you mean, my boy? Where?
Sylvia stood behind him, arms crossed, her face cold.
Dont worry, Mum, weve sorted everything. Theres a lovely care home for the elderly. Clean, with doctors, company, three meals a dayeverything you need. Youll be much better off there.
Anna said nothing. Something inside her chest tightened.
“A lovely home,” “better off”but all she heard was:
“We dont need you anymore.”
She didnt cry. She didnt plead. She only nodded.
If its easier for everyone she murmured.
A week later, a small brown suitcase waited by the door. Dennis helped carry it down the stairs, avoiding his mothers gaze.
Im sorry, Mum. This is for the best, youll see he muttered.
Yes, my son Anna whispered. Easier. For you, certainly.
Outside, a light, cold drizzle fell as the taxi stopped before a grey, two-storey building on the edge of town. A sign read: “Golden Sunset Care Home.”
Inside, the scent of bleach and overcooked porridge mingled.
A middle-aged nurse, her expression bored, motioned to her.
Room six. Its warm, theres a telly. And she walked off.
The room was small, with a single window overlooking a twisted walnut tree. The blanket was rough, the colours faded. Anna smoothed a hand over it.
“So, this is it,” she thought.
In the first days, she barely spoke to anyone. She ate, slept, listened to the muffled noises from other roomssometimes crying, sometimes angry shouts. Time blurred. Morning and evening felt the same.
She felt life was over.
Then, one day, a new face appeared in the hallway. A young woman, cheerful, wearing a scarf, carrying a basket of homemade scones.
Good afternoon! she said brightly. Im Martha, a volunteer. Ive come to chat, maybe read to you a bit. Youre Anna Parker, yes?
Yes, I am.
My neighbour told me about you. Said you were once a teacher?
Anna blinked in surprise.
I taught literature in primary school.
Thats wonderful! Martha beamed. Weve been looking for someone to help children with reading at the orphanage. Theyve had a tough time, fallen behind, but theyre eager. Would you come with me?
Anna didnt answer at first. Her heart gave a sudden thud.
Children? Teach again? she asked, as if hardly daring to believe it.
Yes. If youd likeand if youre up for itIll drive you.
A week later, they rattled along in an old minibus. Outside, the outskirts of London passed byhouses, markets, people. Anna pressed her hand to the window and sighed softly.
The orphanage was a noisy, vibrant world. Boys and girls ran down corridors, laughter and chatter filling the air. But when Anna spoke, reading them the first chapter of *The Railway Children*, silence fell.
Her voice trembled, but every word carried warmth. The children listened as if under a spell.
See how they listen to you? Martha said later, smiling. Its been ages since someone spoke to them so kindly.
From then on, Anna visited weekly. She helped them read, practised writing, told them storiesabout life, old tales, kindness. And each time she returned to the care home, her heart felt a little lighter.
Time passed. One afternoon, the orphanage director called her in.
Mrs. Parker, Ive a proposal. One of our carers has retired. The children adore you. Would you stay with us part-time? Youd have a small room here.
Anna was speechless.
Me? But Im seventy-eight
Exactly why! Its hearts like yours we need here. Not paperworkkindness.
When she moved in, it felt like a new life beginning. The children swarmed around her, shouting:
Miss Anna, youre back!
She laughed, hugged them, and for the first time in years, felt truly happy.
At home, in the old flat, Dennis scrolled through his phone one evening. An article caught his eye: *”An Elderly Teacher Who Found Home Again Among Children.”*
The photo showed his mother.
She sat among the children, a little boy holding her hand, smiling.
The caption read:
*”Shes the most important person to those who have no one.”*
Dennis stared at the picture for a long time. Sylvia asked:
Whats wrong?
He only said:
Forgive me, Mum.
Anna never knew her son had spoken those words.
She simply lived onquietly, peacefully, but full of love.
And when one day the children brought her a drawinga big red heart with the words:
*”You are our heart, Miss Anna!”* she knew God had taken her house only to give her a new family instead.
