AUNT
Aunt Patricia arrived from the countryside, delivered on a sleepy afternoon by a creaky bus. Age had pressed on her, making it hard for her to keep up with the farm; so her niece, Grace, whisked her away to the city.
Her husband, Edward, didnt mind. He was quiet and thin, always lost in books and sporting small, round glasses. He obeyed his loud, vivacious Grace in everything.
Shes family. My aunt. No children of her own, and now I havent got a mum. My mother was thirty years younger than Aunt Patricia, born to Dad in another marriage. And, oh, what a thing, my mum left so early. Poor Aunt! We must take her in! Grace announced, as if presiding over court.
Her children Oliver and Emily had never met their mysterious great-aunt.
Truthfully, Grace herself had only seen Patricia a handful of times. No phone calls, only letters, as Aunt Patricia kept steadfastly to pen and paper technology was invisible to her.
So there she stood, among them. Small and sprightly like a wood sprite (Oliver, thirteen, towered over her). Wispy hair, pale as a dandelion gone to seed. A pillbox hat perched atop her head. Eyes, a startling sapphire, young and sharp.
In her hands a knotted cloth bundle, and a mesh shopping bag, relics from days gone by. Two battered suitcases. And in her arms, a fluffy ginger cat. He eyed his new domain, leapt down, and prowled with studied boredom.
Thats Clementine, the cat. Brought her with me, a soul of my own, hope you dont mind, Patricia said, gently.
So this is the lot! My kin! she declared.
Then came a feast. Patricia had carried jars of pickles and jams, homemade and brimming. Grace was amazed to see her finicky children devouring jam, cucumbers, chutney and more.
Grace! Do you have one of those country cottages? Ill plant anything, even if my health isnt what it was must grow things! Cant live without homegrown! Patricia declared.
Grace explained there was no cottage, and no need for one. You could buy everything, after all, and they had no time for gardening. She worked two jobs, Edward as well. Their kids were seen only in snatches. The flat was bought on mortgage and would take years to pay off.
Cant do without a garden. Dont look at me like that, Grace. People need a patch of earth. Well find one, buy it, and Patricia retreated to her room.
Well find one, sure. As if were rolling in money. Aunt seems to think were millionaires! Grace grumbled, washing up.
The next day was Sunday. Edward lounged in bed, reading the paper. Grace, shouting for the children to heat up ready-meals, decided to doze more.
Oliver and eight-year-old Emily, as usual, were deep in their phones.
Clementine, the cat, sat beside them, gently nodding her head. In walked Aunt Patricia.
What are you up to? she asked.
Oliver and Emily started explaining and even showing her. Patricia shook her head, bemused. Then, she said,
We had things like this in the village. Not quite as fancy. I never bothered getting one myself didnt need it. Used to write letters to your mum, so much easier for me. But these, theyre useful. You can find anyone, anywhere. Clever invention. Right, put them away. Come with me!
Why? Were playing! Oliver protested.
Playing where? Youre just stuck to your phones. Not calling anyone, Patricia said, puzzled.
We play inside the phones! squeaked Emily.
Patricia launched into tales of village games, then pulled the children towards the kitchen.
When Grace wandered in, she was stopped in her tracks. Pancakes stacked high on plates. Oliver blissfully sipping tea. Emily, beside Patricia, folding homemade dumplings.
See, Mum! Its good luck, might get a lucky one! Emily smiled.
Edward appeared next.
He sniffed the air, smiling.
From now on, Sunday means dumpling-making and pancakes for all! We must eat proper home food! Patricia announced.
Theres no point, really. Everything can be bought now! argued Grace, who hated cooking.
She usually bought frozen and ready meals. The family never protested until today.
No, Mum. Lets make them ourselves. Ive never had dumplings like these! Oliver said.
Aunt Patricia fetched a ball of elastic and tied it around chairs, then showed Emily how to play elastic games from the country.
What about you lot? Dont you jump? she asked.
Who? If they go out, its still phones! Thats todays kids! Edward grunted.
Its not right. One must talk face to face! Phones are needed. Sure, but use them as intended call or send whats needed. Thats all! Patricia decreed.
In the evenings, she knitted, with Clementine sprawled contentedly on the armchair.
Mum, come see! Emily tugged Grace after her.
They stepped into the hallway, then peeked into the bathroom.
Patricia stroked the side of the washing machine, murmuring,
Happy Womens Day to you, washing machine! Long years to serve us, dearest!
Aunt Patricia, are you alright? Grace whispered, thinking perhaps the old lady had lost her marbles.
What do you think? Todays the eighth of March. Machines are girls too, so I congratulated her! Patricia laughed.
But shes not alive, Aunt. Silly thing! Grace snorted.
Machines understand everything, dont say that. Once, in our village, Vasilys tractor was stuck. He sweet-talked it, coaxed it out. And old Kuzma always blesses his car and calls it Polly. You dont know how lucky you are! We used to wash clothes by hand so much of it! Hauled it to the river to rinse. Look what you have here, all so easy. But you still walk about gloomy! Your phones, if used sensibly, let you see where kids are anytime. The machine does all the washing. The microwave! Look at it: heats as if by magic, Patricia beamed, childlike, sweeping her gaze across the home.
She started picking the children up from school.
Oliver had trouble in class one day. He didnt tell his parents. As he sulked and shed tears quietly, Patricia marched in, and somehow, Oliver unloaded his woes onto her. The next morning, he skipped the first two lessons. The house felt eerily empty. Not even Patricias slipper shuffle.
She must have gone for a walk, Oliver thought.
He wandered off to school. Outside his classroom, he heard a familiar voice! Peering in, the teacher was seated, silent. At the board Aunt Patricia, enthusiastically speaking.
Oh no! Why did she come? Theyll laugh! Oliver pressed to the door.
But no one laughed. The lesson ended. His classmates clustered around Patricia. He sidled in. Peter, the chief mischief-maker (Olivers usual tormentor), greeted him,
Hi, whereve you been? Your gran is brilliant! Told us so much. Wish I had a granny miss her so. Tomorrow she promised to take us to the park. Knows so much about flowers and animals! Talks so interestingly! The teacher let her speak, Peter smiled.
Yeah Shes amazing! Oliver grinned and dashed to hug Patricia.
That evening, Grace broke down. Worn out by everything. Patricia was there beside her.
Dont cry, dear. Why are you crying? Everything is here, what are the tears for?
Im just tired! Work so much, dont live. Edward is so meek, nothing like other men! Ive become faded. Women like me arent in fashion now, Grace poured out her heart on Patricias shoulder.
Patricia let her finish, brewed her tea.
She spoke of loss: three children gone young, a husband departed early, battling illness, half-starved but enduring pain and never giving up.
Whats this trend with people? God made each person uniquely. Some are slender as reeds, others fuller. Tastes change, Grace. Once, bigger ladies were adored! Look at you beautiful, curly hair, big blue eyes. Lovely figure. Value whats given. Some have nothing. So many lonely souls! Edward is golden loves you, devotes himself to family. Your children theyre joy! The rest will sort itself. Oh, nearly forgot something important, time for bed! and Patricia left Grace in the kitchen.
Grace stopped crying. Why was she so sad? Aunt was right. She had everything. No reason for tears.
That day Grace waited for her husband, enjoying her long-awaited holiday. He hadnt come home.
Children! Has your father called? Where are you?
Oliver was mixing something in a bowl in the kitchen. She noticed his new enthusiasm for cooking. He even flipped pancakes in midair.
Emily was making a tent from chairs, draping blankets, arranging dolls.
Their phones lay untouched. Grace had seen them using mobiles less and less only to answer calls.
Grace dialed Edward again and again. The subscriber is temporarily unreachable, came the answer.
Suddenly, she felt a chill. Aunt Patricia! Where was she? No slipper sounds, no calm voice.
She rushed to the spare room. Clementine stretched lazily on the bed.
Oliver! Emily! Wheres Aunt Patricia? Grace gasped.
The children hurried in.
We walked home with her from school. Then she left, Emily whispered.
When? Emily, when? Grace cried. Daughter nodded and began to cry.
Oh God! We got her a mobile, but she didnt take it again. How could she? Shes so old! Grace slumped into a chair, helpless.
Oliver hurried to dress.
Where are you going? Grace ran after him.
To search! Mum, we cant live without her! and he dashed downstairs.
Emily slipped into her trainers, following her brother.
Grace, pulling on her coat, chased after the children.
They waited outside, beaming.
What are you doing? Grace demanded.
They pointed. Down the street, holding Edwards arm, Aunt Patricia strode along in her poppy-adorned hat.
Aunt! You frightened us! Hours out of the house! And you, whereve you been? Grace turned to her husband.
We went to fix whats it the leak! Patricia proudly declared.
What? How? Grace managed.
We wanted to surprise you. Aunt Patricia what a champ! Saved us, really! Edward laughed.
Aunt Where did you get the money? You shouldnt have, Grace began.
What do you mean, where? Firstly, I saved. My pensions decent. Had my own farm, spent next to nothing. Eggs, milk, bread made at home. Secondly, sold my house. Didnt need it. Cant take money to the grave. Meant to leave it to you anyway far more needed now, Patricia said, honest as daylight.
Grace said nothing. Now, she wouldnt have to slog at two jobs. She and Edward could spend more time with the family. What a blessing!
Yes, tomorrow off to the country. To see the new cottage! Edward and I already chose one! Patricia continued.
Our own cottage! Hooray! You promised to teach us to search for fireflies, to weave baskets, and make flower-glass secrets to bury and dig up! The children hugged Patricia.
Together, arm-in-arm, the family headed home.
Grace paused outside the block of flats, looked up to the clouds, and quietly whispered,
Thank you. Thank you for Aunt Patricia!As dusk slipped over the city, laughter spilled from their open windows. Aunt Patricia bustled about the kitchen, teaching Emily how to knead dough while Oliver sliced apples for pie. Edward hummed softly as he fixed the leaky sink, and Grace, for the first time in years, simply satwatching, listening, feeling her heart grow lighter.
That night, Clementine curled herself around Patricias ankles, purring as if she too knew the gentle change that had come. Around the table, the family shared storiessome old, some new, some so sparkling with hope that Grace almost didnt recognize the sound of her own joyful voice.
Later, the children tucked the worn elastic ball into their backpack, ready for tomorrows country adventure. Patricia winked at them, promising wild strawberries and sunlight, and maybejust maybea handful of fireflies.
And as the city outside dimmed, inside their home every corner glowed warm and alive, touched by Patricias unwavering spirit.
Grace looked at her aunts handsstill strong, still gentleand quietly knew: some gifts you can never buy. Some roots, finally, grow exactly where theyre needed.
Tomorrow, the air would taste of earth and promise, and tonight, their family was whole.
