Gran Alice! I cried, bursting through the gate. Who ever gave you permission to keep a wolf in the village?
Alice May bitterly broke down in tears, staring at the ruined fence. Shed propped it up with spare planks more than once, patched up rotting posts with the hope it might last long enough until she saved up enough from her modest pension. But fate wasnt on her side this time. The fence had collapsed.
For ten long years, Alice had managed the cottage and garden alone, ever since her beloved husband, Peter John, passed away. He was a man of rare skill. While he was alive, she never had to worry Peter could mend, build, or fix anything as a carpenter and joiner. He did all the work himself, so hiring tradesmen was never necessary. The villagers respected him for his unwavering kindness and diligence. They shared forty happy years together, missing their anniversary by just one day. Their neat home, abundant vegetable plot, and healthy livestock were a testament to their joint effort.
They had an only son George, their pride and joy. He was hard working from a young age and never needed prompting to help. When his mum returned spent from work at the dairy farm, George would already have chopped firewood, fetched water, stoked up the stove, and tended to the animals.
Peter, after returning from his job at the workshop, would wash up and sit out on the porch for a smoke while his wife cooked the evening meal. The family would gather for supper, chatting over the days events. They were truly happy.
Time marched on, leaving only memories. George grew up and moved away for studies, fell in love, and married a city girl named Daisy. They settled down in London. At first, George would come home each holiday, but soon, persuaded by Daisy, he started vacationing abroad instead, every year. Peter John grew frustrated with his son, not understanding the change.
What can our George be so tired from? Its Daisy, shes put ideas in his head. Why does he need such travels?
The father fretted; the mother pined. What else could they do but live and hope for a letter or phone call from their son? Then, tragedy struck when Peter John fell ill. He refused food and grew weaker by the day. Doctors prescribed medications, but eventually sent him home, telling Alice there was nothing more they could do. That spring, when the bluebells were out and birdsong filled the woods, Peter passed on.
George came home for the funeral, tears streaming, blaming himself for not visiting sooner. He stayed for a week in the family house before heading back to London. In the ten years since, hed only written his mother three times. Alice was left truly alone. She sold the cow and her sheep to neighbours.
What did she need cattle for now? The old cow lingered by Alices gate, listening to its former owner weeping bitterly inside. Alice would sit in her back room, cover her ears, and cry.
Without a man about, the place started to fall apart. The roof leaked; the veranda boards splintered; the cellar flooded. Alice did what she could herself, saving what she could from her pension to pay for tradesmen, managing when she was able shed grown up in the countryside, knew how everything worked.
She got by, just scraping enough to cover her needs, when another misfortune befell her. Her eyesight worsened suddenly, though shed never struggled before. She went to the village shop and barely made out the prices on the shelves. Months later, she could hardly see the sign above the door.
The nurse came round, took a look, and insisted Alice be checked at the hospital.
Mrs May, do you want to lose your sight entirely? Theyll operate, and youll see again!
But Alice, frightened of surgery, refused to go. Within a year, her vision was almost gone. Yet she didnt dwell on it.
Whats the use of seeing? I dont watch the telly, I just listen. The announcer reads the news clear enough. As for housework, I manage by memory.
Still, worries nagged her. The village was seeing rougher folk these days, and frequently, thieves came and plundered abandoned homes, taking what they pleased. Alice fretted she didnt own a good dog to scare off unwanted guests with fierce barking.
She asked Sam, the gamekeeper:
Sam, do you know if the breeders got any pups? Id take even the smallest. Ill raise it
Sam, the local hunter, eyed her curiously:
Gran Alice, whatd you want with a husky pup? Theyre built for the woods. I could bring you a proper pedigree sheepdog from town.
A sheepdog? Must be pricey
Not dearer than your peace of mind, Gran.
Well, bring one then.
Alice counted up her savings. She figured she could manage a good dog. But Sam never reliable kept delaying his promise. Alice scolded him for his empty words but secretly felt for him. He was unlucky no family, no children; his only comfort was a strong drink.
Sam, the same age as her son George, never left the village. He found the city confining. Hunting was his passion hed disappear into the woods for days on end.
When hunting season ended, Sam took any odd job: digging gardens, fixing fences, mending machinery. What solitary old ladies paid him he spent straight away on drink.
After a bender, hed head for the woods swollen, broken, and ashamed. After several days, hed come back with mushrooms, berries, fish, or pinecones. He sold everything for pennies and promptly spent his earnings. Even so, Sam would lend Alice a hand with chores shed pay him when she could. And now, with the fence ruined, she had to send for him again.
Looks like the dog will have to wait, sighed Alice May. Ill have to pay Sam for the fence, and theres not much left.
Sam arrived with a bulging backpack. Not only were there tools inside, but something wriggled about. Grinning, he called Alice over.
Have a look what Ive brought you. He swung the rucksack open.
The old lady shuffled over and stroked a soft, furry head.
Sam, have you really brought me a puppy? she asked in disbelief.
The very best, a pure-bred sheepdog pup, Gran.
The puppy yelped, squirming to escape the bag. Alice panicked:
But I havent enough money! Only just for the fence!
Im not taking him back now, Gran Alice! Sam huffed. Do you have any idea how many pounds I paid for that dog?
What could she do? She dashed off to the shop, where the storekeeper lent her five bottles of gin on tick, and noted her name in the debt ledger.
By evening, Sam had mended the fence. Alice gave him a hearty meal and poured a glass. Cheered by the tipple, he sat at the table, pointing to the puppy curled up beside the stove.
He should be fed twice a day. Buy him a strong chain he’ll grow stout and sturdy. I know dogs, trust me.
So Alice gained a new companion Rex. She grew fond of the pup, and he answered with steadfast loyalty. Each time Alice stepped outside to feed him, Rex would leap about, eager to lick her face. One thing bothered her he grew massive, almost as big as a calf, but never learnt to bark, which troubled Alice May.
Oh, Sam, you scoundrel! Sold me a useless dog.
Yet what could she do? She could hardly send away such a gentle soul. He didnt need to bark the neighbourhood dogs didnt dare challenge Rex, who shot up to Alices waist in just three months.
One day, Matthew, another village gamekeeper, stopped in for supplies ahead of the winter hunting season. Passing Alices cottage, he froze at the sight of Rex.
Gran Alice! cried Matthew. Who on earth let you keep a wolf in the village?
Alice clasped her hands to her chest in fright.
Oh, heavens! How could I be so daft! Sam has tricked me! Said he was a pedigree sheepdog
Matthew grew serious.
Gran, you must release him in the woods. Otherwise, troubles certain.
Tears flooded the old ladys eyes. How it hurt to part with Rex! He was kind and gentle even if he was a wolf. Lately, though, hed grown restless, tugging at his chain, desperate for freedom. The villagers grew fearful of him. There was no choice.
Matthew took Rex into the forest. With a flick of his tail, the wolf vanished among the trees. He was never seen again.
Alice mourned the loss and cursed cunning Sam, though he regretted the whole thing too his intentions had been good. Once, while wandering the woods, Sam spotted bear tracks and heard a pitiful whine nearby. Hed been about to turn back, knowing that bear cubs meant an angry mother was close. But the sound was unlike any bears.
Behind the bushes, he found a den. A dead she-wolf lay nearby, her pups savaged. The bear mustve raided the den. Only one tiny wolf had survived, hiding away deep inside.
Sam felt sorry for the orphan. He took him home, then gave him to Alice, hoping shed care for him until the wolf was old enough to run to the woods. Meanwhile, Sam planned to find her a proper dog. But Matthew had ruined everything.
Sam spent days wandering near the cottage, too ashamed to call on Alice. The winter raged outside, and inside, Alice kept the fire burning so she wouldnt freeze at night.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. Alice hurried to open it. A man was standing there.
Good evening, Gran. May I shelter here for the night? I lost my way heading for the next village.
Whats your name, dear? I cant see well.
Boris.
Alice frowned.
I dont think weve got any Borises here
Ive only just moved in, Gran. I recently bought a cottage. Tried to see it today, but my car got stuck. Had to walk the blizzards fierce!
Did you buy old Dans house?
He nodded.
Thats right.
Alice welcomed the stranger, put the kettle on. She didnt notice him glancing greedily at her sideboard, where country folk hid their cash and knickknacks.
While Alice fussed at the stove, the visitor began rummaging in the sideboard. Alice heard the squeak of a cupboard door.
Whats that youre doing, Boris?
Only helping you sort your old banknotes, Gran. Theres a new currency now!
She scowled.
Nonsense. No new currencys come in! Who are you?
The man whipped out a knife, pressing it under her chin.
Keep quiet, Gran. Hand over your money, gold, and food quickly!
Fear swept over Alice. The man was a criminal, running from the police. Her fate seemed sealed
Suddenly, the door crashed open. In bounded a huge wolf, launching himself at the thief. The man shrieked, but a thick scarf saved him from savage bites. He slashed at Rex with the knife, wounding his shoulder. Rex leapt aside, and the thief bolted for the door.
At that moment, Sam was walking up to apologise. At the gate, he saw a man running with a knife, cursing at the world. Sam dashed to Alice, where a bloodied Rex lay on the floor. Sam quickly understood and ran to fetch the local constable.
The thief was caught and sentenced again.
Rex became the hero of the village. People brought him food and greeted him whenever they saw him. The wolf was never chained again; he roamed free, but always returned to Alice, joining Sam at her side after hunting trips.
One day, a black Range Rover appeared by her house. Someone was splitting logs in the yard, and it was Alices son George. Seeing his old friend, he threw open his arms for a hug.
That evening, everyone gathered at the dinner table, Alice glowing with happiness. George persuaded her to have the operation in London to restore her sight.
Well, if it must be sighed the old lady. My grandsons coming this summer; I want to see him again. Sam, watch the house and Rex, will you?
Sam nodded. Rex curled up by the hearth, content with his head on his paws. His place was here, among friends.
This tale taught me something important in the darkest of times, kindness and loyalty shine brightest, and old wounds can heal if only we dare to hope.
