Am I really alone? Oh, not at all! I have quite the large family!
For years now, Ive lived by myself in a small cottage at the very edge of Ashwell village. It always makes me chuckle when people ask if I feel lonely.
Am I alone? Not a chance! My familys enormous!
The village women would smile and nod when I said that, though behind my back theyd raise their eyebrows and nudge each other, spinning little circles by their temples as if to say I was touched in the head. How could I have a family, after allno husband, no kids, just myself and a herd of animals, barely any different from a creature in the wild.
But to me, my pets were my family. And honestly, I couldnt care less what anyone thought. According to them, animals are for purpose onlykeep a flock of chickens, a cow if youre lucky, maybe a single dog to guard the place, and a cat to keep the mice at bay.
Well, I had five cats and four dogs. Worse yet, they all lived indoors with me, not out in the shed or the garden as the neighbours insisted they should. The sight of it made some people shake their heads and mutter under their breath.
Not that I minded. Theyd stopped pestering me, knowing Id only laugh it off.
No, no, the world outside is quite enough for them! Were happier huddled up together at home, I would reply.
Five years ago, I lost both my husband and my son in one cruel day. They were coming back from fishing on the river, when a lorry lost control and ploughed into them on the A14.
I realised, after the worst fog of grief had lifted, that I couldnt stay in our old flat in Cambridge. Every corner held memoriestoo loud, too fresh. Even the local shops felt haunted with absent faces, and the look of pity from neighbours broke me apart each time.
So, after half a year, I sold the flat, took my old tabby, Blossom, and moved out here to Ashwell, buying the cottage with what was left. Summers spent gardening, winters working at the canteen in the market town, I built a different life.
And all my animals came from different places and times. Some I found begging at the train station, others followed me from the canteen, drawn perhaps by the smell of roast beef pies.
Thats how, over time, this large family of mine gathereda motley crew of lost souls, all mending together. Many hurt before, all needing a gentle hand. My heart had plenty of warmth to share, and they gave it back tenfold.
We never went hungry, though it wasnt easy. I knew I couldnt take in every lonely creature forever, and I always promised myself: No, this is the last one.
March arrived, and with it a nasty snap of coldone of those spells that sweeps away the early promise of spring with swirling snow and icy winds, sending everyone scurrying home. I hurried to catch the seven oclock bus, the last one out to the village. A bank holiday ahead, I nipped into the shops for food, both for myself and my furry lot, lugging two heavy bags, weighed down by tins of salmon and dog biscuits.
I kept my eyes fixed ahead, repeating my promise not to let my heart wander. My little gang was waiting, noses pressed to the window, and that thought kept me warm.
But, as the saying goes, what the eye misses, the heart seesand my heart tugged me to a halt with barely ten yards to spare before the bus.
There, beneath a bench, was a dog. Not moving, her eyes vacant and glassy. She was almost hidden by a layer of snowit mustve been hours.
People rushed past, tugging scarves and hoods tighter, not one of them glancing down. So many, but nobody seeing.
My heart clenched. I forgot my bus, my vow, everythingI dashed over, dropped my bags, and crouched down.
The dog flickered her eyes at me, the barest sign of life.
Thank goodnesscome now, sweetheart, lets get you up
She didnt protest as I gently eased her out from under the bench. She was limp, too tired to resist, as if shed decided to leave this world.
I cant even say how I managed to reach the stationtwo bags and a nearly lifeless dog in my arms.
Inside the warmth, tucked into a far corner, I rubbed her paws, chafed her thin sides, whispering all the while, Come on, darling, well get you home soon. Youll be our fifth doga nice round number.
I offered her a little sausage roll from my bag. At first, she turned her nose away, but after a minute, as the warmth returned, she licked at the food and decided, perhaps, that she wasnt ready to leave us yet. Her eyes brightened just a little.
An hour later, we waited on the roadside, thumbing a lift, the bus long gone. Id made a makeshift collar and lead out of my belt. But she, whom Id already decided to call Molly, pressed close to my legs, following every step.
By some stroke of luck, a passing car stopped. The driver called out and offered us a lift.
Thank you so much! Dont worry, Ill keep her on my lapshe wont muddy anything, I gushed.
No worry at all, he smiled. She can take the seatshes no lapdog, after all.
But Molly squashed herself onto my lap anyway, still shivering, and we were both warmer for it.
Sometimes, its just cosier this way, I smiled, and he understood, flicking the heater up a notch. We rode in quieta kind of peace. I cuddled Molly close, watching the snowflakes spin madly in the headlamps.
I caught the driver glancing over at us from time to time. I knew he understood what had happened; I imagine I looked a little battered by the day, but quietly happy too.
He walked us to the gate and hefted the groceries through the knee-deep snow. When the gate stuck, he gave it a shove with his shoulder, snapping one of the rusty hinges clean off.
Dont mind that, I shrugged, its been begging for a repair for ages.
From inside came a cacophony of barking and meowing. My family, all shapes and sizes, hurtled out into the snow to greet me.
Oh, have you missed me? Well, Im here nowwhere else would I go? I said, laughing, and gave them a quick pat. Come say helloheres the latest addition!
With uncertainty, Molly peeked around my legs. The others nosed eagerly at the shopping, which the man still held, wagging and twining round his feet.
Well, dont just stand therecome in if youre not scared of a big family! Would you like a cup of tea? I asked.
He set the bags down and shook his head. Its late, best not. Feed your lotthey were waiting for you.
The very next day, just before noon, I heard a sharp rapping from the garden. Throwing on my coat, I found yesterdays driver returning, tools in hand, replacing the broken gate hinges.
He grinned as I appeared. Afternoon! Im Graham, by the way. Sorry about yesterdaythat gates seen better days.
Im Alice, I replied as my four-legged family snuffled curiously around him. Crouching, he gave a few scruffs.
Alice, dont catch a chillgo inside. Ill finish up and stay for tea, if the offer stands. And theres cake in the car, plus a few treats for your pack.
Sometimes, just when you think youre alone, you realise theres always room for another in your heart. Even on the coldest days, a bit of love and kindness can make a home warm again.
