From an early age Victoria was gentle and caring. Her mother often said, Our little girl inherited my late husband Georges generous nature he helped anyone in need, though his life was short. Now Victoria carries on his kindness, even as a child she saves every helpless creature she finds.
As she grew, Victoria finished school, got a job and moved into her grandfathers flat in a quiet London suburb. She remained warmhearted and fair, always ready to lend a hand to people and animals alike, even when some neighbours whispered that she was a bit odd, as if she werent of this world.
One rainy autumn afternoon, after returning from the supermarket, Victoria spotted an elderly woman struggling with two halfempty shopping bags.
My, how her frail hands tremble and her back bends, Victoria thought with sympathy, what a lifetime she must have carried.
She hurried over and recognised her as Margaret Wilkinson, a neighbour from the same block.
Good afternoon, may I help you? Victoria offered, taking the bags from her.
At first Margaret flinched, then gave a shy smile.
Thank you, dear, but I live on the fourth floor
Im on the second floor myself, Victoria replied with a grin.
When Victoria carried the bags up, she noticed the flat was in disarray, long neglected.
Margaret, let me give you a hand with the cleaning, she said. I can finish my own shopping first and then come back.
Dont trouble yourself, love, Margaret protested. Youll be wasting your time on me.
Its no bother, Victoria replied. I live alone and today is my day off.
From then on Victoria visited Margaret regularly, sharing tea in the evenings. She loved listening to the old woman play a battered piano that Margarets husband had bought when their son was born. Victoria herself had attended music school but never pursued a career, only because her mother had wanted her to.
One morning, as Victoria walked past the communal garden, she saw Doris Green, a senior who lived on the fifth floor, sitting on a bench.
Victoria, I see youve taken Margaret under your wing. Good on you. Its a shame about her grandson. He lives in Germany, welloff, with his wife, and their grandchildren live in Manchester. They only visit rarely, always saying theyre waiting for her to pass so they can inherit what they think is a fortune. I dont even know what wealth she has, but people love to gossip, Doris muttered.
Victoria nodded and entered the lift.
Good heavens, what riches could Margaret possibly have? Just a piano and decent furniture, she thought, rolling her eyes at the chatter.
That evening Victoria arrived at Margarets with a homemade cake.
Lets have some tea; Ill put the kettle on, she chirped, heading to the kitchen.
Dont bother yourself, dear, Margarets eyes twinkled. I just wanted to do something nice for you.
As they sipped tea, Margaret recounted her childhood during the war, her husband who had long since died, and her son who had moved to Germany with his wife. She sighed at how seldom they came, as if he had forgotten his own mother.
You still have grandchildren, dont you? Victoria asked gently.
Grandchildren Margarets voice quivered. They think Im a useless old woman, driven mad. Last year my son Gary came once, gruff as ever, but he brought fruit. As he left he muttered, Old woman, youre a bother now, time for you to go. Thats my grandson for you and my granddaughter never visits, just waits for my death.
Winter arrived and Margaret fell ill. Victoria began visiting each evening after work, bringing meals, medicine, and anything she could. One night Margaret whispered, Sweetheart, could you play the piano for me? Id love to hear it.
Victoria sat at the instrument, her fingers gliding over the keys. Soft music filled the room; Margaret closed her eyes, smiling as memories stirred.
Playing became their ritual. Margaret would tell simple stories, then Victoria would accompany her with tender melodies.
As weeks turned into months, Margaret grew weaker. The local doctor prescribed regular medication, which Victoria administered faithfully. One afternoon, after polishing the floor, Victoria settled beside Margaret, who began to speak in a hushed tone.
Ive written my will. The flat will go to my grandchildren theyve waited long enough. But I want the piano to belong to you.
Victoria was stunned. Oh, Margaret, I dont need anything. Im just a neighbour, not a family member. I dont want your grandchildren to think I took advantage.
Its all settled, Margaret assured her.
Spring came, and Margarets health deteriorated rapidly. She stopped getting up, calling the doctor more often, but was never taken to hospital. One night she slipped away alone. The evening before, she had whispered, Dont forget the piano, love. Its yours, please keep it.
The next morning Victoria rushed to the flat, only to find Margaret gone. She called Gary on Margarets old phone.
At the funeral Victoria wept as if she had lost her own grandmother. Later, the grandchildren arrived to clear out the apartment and invited Victoria inside. In the centre of the empty room stood the piano, the only thing left.
While the movers are here, Ill have the piano taken to your flat, announced Gary, a tall, selfassured young man who gave Victoria a patronising smile. Your dear old aunt would have wanted that. Thanks for looking after her, I suppose.
Victoria felt a wave of gratitude mixed with sadness. She gently dusted the instrument, whispering, Thank you, Margaret, for your kindness.
For several days she could not bring herself to sit at the keys. Finally, after work one evening, she opened the lid, lifted the fallboard and was surprised to find a small, silkwrapped bundle among the strings. Inside lay a tiny jewellery box, its lid ajar, revealing a handful of sparkling pieces and a note.
Victoria, dear, these are for you. For a soul as kind as yours. Thank you for the last year of my life; it was happier because you were near. Be happy. If you wish to sell, you may, but please keep at least one ring as a memory of me.
Tears streamed down Victorias cheeks as she examined the rings, earrings, bracelets, two necklaces, and a photograph of a young Margaret. She chose a simple silver band, slipped it onto her finger, and pressed the keys. A gentle melody rose, filling the room.
She pondered what to do with the rest of the treasure. The next Saturday she took the box to a pawnshop.
Its my familys heirlooms, she told the appraiser, who nodded in surprise.
Their value is considerable, he replied.
With the cash in hand, Victoria drove to the outskirts of town, where an abandoned twostorey mansion stood, its brickwork solid beneath peeling plaster. The garden overgrown, the house waiting for a new purpose.
She imagined herself restoring it, and soon approached a realtor.
Youre serious about buying this place? It needs a massive renovation, the agent warned.
Its exactly what I need, Victoria replied.
Eight months later, after the house had been refurbished, Victoria opened a small residential care home for lonely seniors. In the spacious lounge a piano rested beside comfortable sofas and armchairs. The first residents were former farmer John Seymour, and two sisters, Anne and Gillian, who had lost their home in a fire. More followed as word spread.
Residents often asked, Victoria, could you play something for us?
She obliged, losing herself in the music, feeling Margarets presence between the notes, as if the old woman whispered, Well done, dear.
The home became known as The Oak House, a haven praised by journalists and locals alike.
Did you ever regret selling the jewellery? a reporter asked.
Not for a moment, Victoria smiled. Seeing these folks happy, knitting, playing chess, sharing stories thats the true wealth. Margaret would be pleased with how I used her piano. I gained love, purpose, and the knowledge that kindness circles back.
Two years later Victoria married Stephen, a warmhearted man who gladly helped run the home. Together they tend to the house and its residents, proving that generosity, even when unasked for, creates a legacy far richer than any inheritance.
The lesson is clear: true wealth lies not in gold or property, but in the compassion we share and the lives we touch along the way.
