“A Good Woman – What Would We Do Without Her? — And You Only Pay Her Two Thousand a Month. — Elena, We’ve Left Her the Flat in Our Will Nicolas slowly rose from bed and shuffled into the next room, his dim eyes falling on his sleeping wife in the glow of the night lamp. He knelt beside her, listening quietly. ‘All seems well.’ He wandered to the kitchen, poured some kefir, popped into the bathroom, then returned to his own room. He lay down but couldn’t sleep: ‘Elena and I are both ninety now. How many years together? Soon we’ll be with God, and no one is left beside us. Our daughters, Natalie—gone before sixty. Maxim too is gone. He went off the rails… There’s a granddaughter, Oksana, but she’s lived in Poland for twenty years. She’s probably got grown-up children of her own by now. Never remembers her grandparents.’ He drifted off without realising. A gentle touch woke him: ‘Nicolas, are you alright?’ came a quiet voice. He opened his eyes. His wife was leaning over him. ‘What is it, Elena?’ ‘You were just lying there, not moving.’ ‘Still alive! Go and sleep!’ Shuffling footsteps sounded. The kitchen light clicked. Elena took a drink, visited the bathroom, then returned to her room, lying down with a sigh: ‘One day I’ll wake up and he’ll be gone. What will I do? Or maybe I’ll go first. Nicolas has even prearranged our memorial. I never thought you could arrange such a thing in advance. But on the other hand, who else would do it for us? Our granddaughter’s forgotten us. Only the neighbour, Jean, comes in. She’s got a key to our flat. Granddad gives her a thousand from our pension—she shops, helps us out. Where else would we spend our money? We can’t even go down the stairs from the fourth floor ourselves anymore.’ Through the window, Nicolas watched the elder tree’s fresh green leaves shimmering in the morning sun. He smiled. ‘We’ve made it to summer!’ He went to see his wife, who was sitting lost in thought. ‘Elena, stop fretting! Come, I want to show you something.’ ‘Oh, I’ve no energy left!’ she groaned, struggling to her feet. ‘What have you got planned?’ ‘Come on, come on!’ He guided her gently onto the balcony. ‘Look, the elder’s green! And you said we wouldn’t make it to summer. We did!’ ‘Oh, so it is! And the sun’s shining.’ They sat on the bench together. ‘Remember when I took you to the pictures? Back at school. The elder turned green that day too.’ ‘You never forget such things, do you? Seventy-five years ago now.’ They reminisced for ages. So much is forgotten in old age—even yesterday’s details—but never your youth. ‘My word, we’ve been nattering! We’ve not even had breakfast.’ ‘Elena, make some good tea—not this herbal business!’ ‘We’re not supposed to.’ ‘Make it weak and pop a spoon of sugar in, if you will.’ Nicolas sipped the weak tea and nibbled a little cheese sandwich, thinking of the days when tea was strong and sweet, with pies or pancakes for breakfast. Their neighbour dropped in, smiling warmly. ‘How are you both?’ ‘Still cracking jokes at ninety,’ grinned Nicolas. ‘If you can joke, you’re doing alright. Need anything from the shops?’ ‘Jean, buy us some meat,’ Nicolas pleaded. ‘You’re not supposed to have it.’ ‘Chicken’s allowed.’ ‘Alright, I’ll get some. I’ll make you noodle soup for lunch!’ She tidied, washed up and left. ‘Elena, let’s get some sun on the balcony.’ ‘Let’s.’ Jean came outside. ‘Missing the sunshine, are you?’ ‘It’s lovely out here, Jean!’ smiled Elena. ‘I’ll bring your breakfast out. And start lunch, too.’ ‘She’s a good woman—what would we do without her?’ ‘And you only give her two grand a month.’ ‘Elena, we’ve left her the flat.’ ‘She doesn’t know that.’ They sat outside until lunch. Chicken noodle soup—rich, with pieces of meat and creamy potatoes: ‘I always made soup like this for Natalie and Max when they were small,’ Elena remembered. ‘And now in old age, strangers cook for us,’ Nicolas sighed. ‘Maybe it’s our destiny, my dear Nicolas. When we’re gone, there’ll be no one to cry for us.’ ‘Enough now, Elena—let’s have a nap!’ ‘Nicolas, they say: “Old men are like children.” Everything’s like childhood—soft soup, nap time, and tea.’ After a doze, Nicolas shuffled to the kitchen. Two glasses of juice were waiting, set out by Jean. He carried them carefully to his wife’s room, where she stared into the window. ‘Why glum, Elena? Here’s some juice!’ She sipped some. ‘Can’t sleep either?’ ‘Must be the weather.’ ‘I’ve not felt right today either,’ Elena admitted quietly. ‘I think my time is nearly up. Please make sure I’m buried properly.’ ‘Don’t say things like that, Elena. How will I live without you?’ ‘One of us has to go first.’ ‘Enough! Come onto the balcony with me.’ They sat until evening. Jean made cheese pancakes. They ate, then watched TV as usual. New films were hard to follow these days, so they stuck to old comedies and cartoons. Tonight, just one cartoon before Elena stood up. ‘I’ll go to bed, feeling tired.’ ‘Me too then.’ ‘Let me have a good look at you!’ she suddenly said. ‘Why?’ ‘Just want to.’ They looked at each other a long while. Remembering, perhaps, when everything was before them. ‘I’ll walk you to your bed.’ Arm in arm, they slowly left the room. He tucked her in carefully before heading to his own bed. Something weighed on his heart. He barely slept. He thought he must not have slept at all but saw it was two am. He went to his wife’s room. She lay with eyes wide open. ‘Elena!’ He took her hand. ‘Elena! Oh, Elena—!’ Suddenly his own breath faltered. He returned to his room, put the prepared documents on the table. Back to his wife. He gazed at her for a long time. Then lay beside her and closed his eyes. He saw his Elena, young and beautiful as seventy-five years ago, walking towards a light. He ran to catch up, taking her hand. In the morning, Jean entered the bedroom. They lay side by side, the same peaceful, happy smile on both faces. At last, she rang for an ambulance. The doctor shook his head in wonder: ‘They went together. Must have truly loved one another…’ They were taken away. Jean sank onto a chair. Then she saw the papers—the will, in her name. She bent her head and cried… Please give a like and share your thoughts in the comments below!”

Shes a wonderful woman. What would we do without her?
And you only give her £70 a month.
Margaret, weve left the flat to her in our will.

Arthur pulled himself out of bed and shuffled quietly into the next room. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, his eyes squinting with age, he looked at his wife.

He sat down beside her, listened to her breathing. Seems all right.

Rising, he shuffled over to the kitchen. He opened a carton of milk, nipped to the bathroom, then made his way back to his own room.

He lay back in bed. Sleep wouldnt come.

Ninety we are, Margaret and I. How long have we lived? Wont be long until were with the Lord, and yet theres not a soul around.

Their daughtersAnne was gone before her sixtieth birthday.

David too, no longer here. He had his wild ways Theres a granddaughter, Emilybeen in Australia for nearly twenty years. Never calls. Shell have children by now, probably grown up.

He didnt notice when sleep took him.

He awoke to the touch of a hand.

Arthur, are you all right? came a faint voice.

He blinked awake. Margaret leaned over him.

What is it, Margaret?

I was just worriedyou were lying so still.

Im still alive! Go back to sleep!

He listened as her slippers shuffled away. The kitchen light clicked on.

Margaret had some water, popped to the loo, and returned to her room. She lay on the bed.

One day Ill wake and hell be gone. What will I do? Or maybe Ill go before him.

Arthurs already arranged our funeral. Never thought you could organise something like that in advance. In a way, its sensible. Who else would do it for us?

Emily doesnt remember us. Only the neighbour, Joan, ever pops round. Shes got a key to our flat. Arthur gives her fifty quid from our pension each week. She does the shopping, bits about the house. How else would we manage our money? We havent been down from the fourth floor in years.

Arthur opened his eyes. Sunlight poked through the window. He wandered out onto the balcony and caught sight of the green leaves atop the elder tree. He smiled:

Weve made it to another summer!

He checked on his wife. She sat on the bed, thoughtful.

Margaret, enough gloom! Come on, Ive something to show you.

Oh, Im aching all over! She rose from the bed, frail. Whats all this about?

Come along, now!

He supported her gently, guiding her to the balcony.

Look, the elder trees green! And you said we wouldnt live to see summer. Yet here we are.

Youre right! And the suns shining, too.

They sat together on the balcony bench.

Do you remember when I took you to the pictures? Back at school. The elder tree was in leaf that day too.

How could I forget? How many years ago now?

Seventy-odd Seventy-five.

They sat for a long time, sharing memories of youth. So many things fade with ageeven what you did yesterdaybut the memories of being young always remain.

Oh, weve nattered long enough! Margaret rose. And we havent even had breakfast.

Margaret, make a proper cuppa, will you? Im sick of herbal.

Were not supposed to.

A weak onejust a touch of sugar, please.

Arthur sipped the weak tea, washing down a little cheese sandwich, and remembered those days when breakfast meant piping hot, sweet tea, often with scones or crumpets.

The neighbour popped in, smiling.

How are you two doing?

How do you think? Were ninety! Arthur joked.

Well, if youre making jokes, youre all right. Need anything from the shops?

Joan, get us some chicken? Arthur asked, hopeful.

Youre not really allowed chicken.

We can have a little, cant we?

All right, Ill get some. Ill make you some chicken noodle soup for lunch.

Joan tidied the table and did the washing up before heading out.

Margaret, lets go back out on the balcony, Arthur suggested. Well warm up in the sun.

Lets do that.

Joan came out, joining them on the balcony.

Missing the sunshine, are you?

Its lovely out here, Joan! Margaret smiled.

Ill bring you some porridge out, then start on the soup.

Shes a lovely woman, Arthur said as Joan turned away. What would we do without her?

And you only pay her seventy pounds a month.

Weve left her the flat, Margaret.

She doesnt know that.

So they lingered on the balcony until lunch, when Joan brought chicken soup: thick, with chunks of meat and mashed potato.

I always made this for Anne and David when they were little, Margaret reminisced.

And now its someone elses cooking for us in our old age, Arthur sighed.

Its just our lot, Arthur. When were gone, nobody will even shed a tear.

Thatll do, Margaret. Time for a nap!

Arthur, people say, Old age is just like childhood.

Everythings as it was for children: pureed soup, regular naps, tea at four.

Arthur dozed a while, then got upunable to settle. Perhaps it was the weather. He went to the kitchen. On the table, two glasses of squash stood, thoughtfully prepared by Joan.

He carried them carefully to his wifes room. She sat on the bed, gazing at the view.

Whats wrong, Margaret? Cheer up. Heres some squash.

She sipped hers. Cant sleep either?

The weather, I think.

Ive been feeling off all morning, Margaret sighed. I dont think Ive got long left. Be sure to bury me properly.

Dont say such things, Margaret. How will I manage without you?

One of us has to go first.

Enough now! Lets get back on the balcony!

They sat outside until evening. Joan made cottage cheese pancakes. They ate and watched a bit of telly, as usual before bed. These days, new films made little sense, so they watched old comedies or cartoons.

Tonight, just the one cartoon. Margaret got up.

Im off to bed. Im weary.

Ill turn in too.

Let me have a good look at you, Arthur! she said suddenly.

Whatever for?

Just let me.

They stared at each other for a long while, lost in memories of the days when all lay ahead.

Let me walk you to your room.

Margaret slipped her arm through his, and together they shuffled along.

He tucked her gently under the blanket and returned to his own room.

A heaviness pressed on Arthurs heart, and sleep eluded him.

He felt as if he hadnt closed his eyes at all, but the clock showed it was two in the morning. He rose and went to Margarets room.

She was lying back, her eyes open.

Margaret!

He took her hand.

Margaret! Margaret, love!

He suddenly struggled to breathe himself. He made it back to his room, found the papers hed prepared, and set them on the table.

He returned and looked long at his wifes face. Then lay down beside her, closing his eyes.

There he saw his Margaret, young and beautiful, as shed been seventy-five years ago. She walked towards a shining light. He hurried after, caught her hand.

In the morning Joan entered the bedroom. They lay side by side, peaceful smiles forever on their faces.

Eventually, Joan phoned for an ambulance.

The doctor looked at them, shaking his head.

They both went together. They must have loved each other deeply

They were taken away. Joan sank into a chair at the kitchen table. She caught sight of the paperwork and willleft to her.

She bowed her head and wept.