I used to see Katie strolling past shop windows, eyebrowsing the food displays as if she could taste them with her gaze. Shed picture what little she had in her thin wallet might actually buy, and the conclusion was always the same: shed have to tighten her belt.
She had three odd jobs at one point, but now only one remained, and after Mums funeral there was absolutely nothing left of the money shed managed to scrounge together.
If I put it in order, Katie was basically on her own. Shed never married. Shed started off studying to be an accountant. Funny thing, shed always loathed numbers, but Dad had insisted back then that a solid profession was the only way to keep a roof over ones head.
I enjoy looking after people, shed said shyly to my husband once, making life a bit easier for them, giving them a boost.
Doctor, then? Dad snapped. Its respectable, you know. Folks always look up to doctors.
No, a sister of mercy, she replied. A nurse, Papa.
Dont tell me you want to be a nurse, he frowned. A caretaker, a ward assistant? Youre dreaming too small. Aim for something prestigious! Think of Napoleonbe first, be great! He paced the room, waving his arms like a mad conductor.
Katie finally sobered up. She tried to study accounting seriously; the numbers haunted her dreams, swirled around her as she woke in a cold sweat. She wanted to tell her father that not everyone needs to be a Napoleon, that she just wanted a simple life of helping someone, of being there.
When Grandma fell ill, little Katie was the one who clung to her side the most. Aunt Gill would wrinkle her nose, step back, mutter how the house reeked. Katie didnt understand why bad smell matteredGrandmas hands always smelled of fresh biscuits, herbs, honey. She thought all she should do was tell her she was okay, change the sheets, read her stories, wipe her forehead, ask to help with the laundry.
When Grandma passed, everyone ran about crying. Aunt Gill lay halfconscious, wailing, Take her away fast, Im scared of the dead! Katie slipped into the room, pressed her cheek to Grandmas hand and wept.
Girl, get out of here! Dad burst in, eyes wide.
No, Dad, Im crying because life feels empty without her. Shes at peace now, in a beautiful place, Katie sniffed.
What beautiful place? Shes dead! he growled, leaning in.
Katie wanted to tell him about the vision shed had: closing her eyes, shed seen Grandma walking a sunlit lane lined with impossible flowers, a grand white house on a hill, and heard her say, All right, love, Im home now. Dont cry, sunshine. She kept it to herself, fearing his wrath.
She kept at the accounting books for a while, but eventually quit. First, because she felt she was breathing the wrong air, as if living someone elses life. Then because Dad left for another woman, and Mum broke down, her grief turning into illness. Katie begged Dad to stay until Mum got better; he muttered something about life being short and worth taking all you could, then left.
Now Katie and Mum were alone. The neighbours started calling her the odd one, but she didnt whine. She grabbed any sidejob she could, trained as a nurse, and tended to Mum herselfgiving injections, looking after her, cheering her up. Soon Mums nerves gave way; she could barely walk.
Poor thing, youll never find a husband now, Aunt Gill sneered one day on the street. Youre always looking after someone elsefirst Grandma, now Mum. Whos left to love you?
Katie cut her off, voice steady. Dont speak like that, Aunt Gill. Mum loves Dad, even if hes gone; hes her water. You cant live without water. Shes my mother, my angel on earth. No man will ever replace her, and you shouldnt insult my father. He chose his path, and I wont let anyone tarnish his name.
Aunt Gill muttered stupid girl and shuffled off.
Mum died in Katies arms. A laugh floated in from somewhere, lilacs scented the air, Mums handkerchief lay on the nightstand. The days that followed were grey and thick.
Katie often stared at the sky, seeing angel wings one moment, wild embroidered flowers the nextlike the ones Mum used to stitch. The house fell silent; she felt like a butterfly trapped in a cocoon, ignoring the world outside. She wanted a job at the local hospital, but after losing three side jobs she only had one left, and her strength was ebbing. She walked with a hollow ache, the absence of Mum a heavy weight.
Emily! Hold on, Ive got news, called Mrs. Ellis from the flat below, her face a mix of worry and curiosity. Dont listen to the gossip, stay positive. Get some chickens on the summer cottage, go to the coastcollect shells, hold them to your ear and youll hear the sea. Find joy everywhere.
Katie kept walking. A young woman in a crisp white jacket and stylish boots descended the stairs, perfume drifting like magic. Katie admired her, but the woman shot her a cold glance and snapped, What are you staring at? Mind your own business!
Sorry, Katie stammered, you look lovely, those perfume I didnt mean to be rude.
She turned to leave, but a voice behind her called, Hey, wait! Its you My dads very ill, Ive been lashing out at everyone. He needs an injection, can you help? Ill pay whatever you ask.
The woman, who introduced herself as Vicky, went on about her fathers three flats and how hed bought a topfloor suite in the building. Katie, unsure, went into the corner shop just to grab a few things.
She saw a mother with a stroller, a little boy tugging at her sleeve, begging for a juice and an icecream. Well get you a soda later, love. Mums out of cash, well just have pasta, the mother said, her voice trembling.
The childs eyes welled. The mother suddenly burst into tears, My wallets gone, I think I dropped it somewhere down the market! A sharply dressed lady in an expensive coat snapped, Scammer! Dont trust her, shes a beggar! The mother fled, leaving the boy staring at the shelves.
Katie felt a surge of shame. Hold on, take this, she said, handing over the last of her cash, buy some biscuits and an icecream for the lad. She watched as the mother thanked her, whispering, Thank you, dear, God bless you. Katies pockets were empty; at home she only had a couple of potatoes and two wilted carrots left, and a job offer wouldnt pay her until next week.
She looked up at the sapphire sky, remembering the scent of the perfume that lingered from the young neighbour. Soon a stream would run again; she and her dad used to float paper boats on it. He now lived far away, rarely calling, but at least he was alive.
A postbox held a parcel addressed to Katie. It bore the name Margaret Naylor, the same name as her grandmothers maiden name, and the address of Littleford, the village shed grown up hearing about. Miss! Take the parcel, dont hold up the line! a clerk urged. Katies hands trembled as she opened it: handstitched towels, a sachet of dried raspberries, dried mushrooms, tea, goldenwrapped sweets, a toy pig, and an old postcard.
Dear Katie, it read, its Margaret Naylor, your grandmothers sister. We grew up together in Littleford, played by the lake. She promised wed send a parcel to each other after a few years. I knew shed soon pass, so Im sending this now, with a picture of the Holy Mother for you to keep safe. She always prayed youd find a worthy man, never be alone. If you havent met your fate yet, have faith.
Katie clutched the icon, weeping for her grandmother, her mother, herself.
A sudden knock at the door made her jump. Opening it, a young neighbour in a white jacket stood, a cloud of perfume around her. Hello again, Im Vika, she said breathlessly, My dads having a fit again, doctors wont even talk to him. Hes a hard man, now weak from illness. Hes thrown me out of his room, but he needs an injection. Could you help? Ill pay whatever you say.
Katie warned her she wasnt a medical professional, but Vika persisted, pleading with her kind eyes. Katie followed her, entered a surprisingly upscale flat, and found a man about sixtyfive, sternjawed, coldeyed, lying in bed. He turned away as Katie approached.
She stepped forward and spoke of how nothing ever truly ends, that he still had reasons to live, that Vika cared for him. He muttered something about mushroom soup, Like my mothers in the village. Katie ran back home, grabbed a sack of dried mushrooms and raspberries, tucked the icon into her coat, and returned. Together they dined on fragrant mushroom soup and sipped raspberry tea.
Vikas father, Victor, later asked Katie to marry him. He had enough money, but she kept working as a nurse, saying it was her calling. Whenever she saw a patients eyes filled with pain, shed whisper, God will set things right. Just have faith.
