**The Flat**
When Julia and her husband moved into the building, an elderly couple already lived on the ground floor. Margaret Anne and Albert Edward did everything together—shopping, doctor’s visits, walks—always arm in arm, supporting one another. They were rarely seen apart.
One evening, Julia and David returned from a dinner party to find an ambulance parked outside their building. Paramedics were carrying someone out on a stretcher, and behind them shuffled Albert, struggling to keep up in his worn-out slippers.
Everyone called him “Old Albert,” but for some reason, his wife was always addressed by her full name, never shortened. Albert was completely grey, even the stubble on his deeply lined face. His thin, wrinkled eyelids drooped over pale, translucent eyes. He looked lost and frightened.
“What happened?” David asked, approaching him.
Albert merely waved his hand—whether to say things were very bad or to dismiss the question, it wasn’t clear. David turned to one of the paramedics efficiently loading the stretcher into the ambulance.
“And you are?” the man asked reluctantly.
“Just a neighbor, worried,” David replied.
“Don’t get in the way, mate. Worry from a distance.” The stretcher vanished inside the ambulance, and the medic climbed in after it, slamming the doors shut.
Albert tried to follow.
“Where do you think you’re going? Best stay here. You won’t be any help to your wife. She’s going to intensive care—they won’t let you in. Neighbor, take the old man home, keep an eye on him. Anything could happen,” the medic said before locking the doors from inside.
The ambulance sped off, siren wailing, until the sound faded into the distance. Albert, David, and Julia stood listening until silence swallowed the noise.
“Let’s get you home, Albert. It’s not summer—you’ll catch cold. Jumped out in just your shirt. He’s right, she’ll be looked after in hospital,” David said.
The old man let himself be led back inside.
“Maybe come up to ours? Easier with company,” David offered at the open door of Albert’s ground-floor flat.
“Thank you. I’ll go home. I’ll wait for my Margaret Anne,” Albert murmured, stepping inside.
“Suit yourself. We’re in number seventeen if you need anything,” David reminded him.
Albert nodded and closed the door behind him.
“Poor man, together all their lives,” Julia sighed as she climbed the stairs behind David. “His family should be told—someone ought to look after him.”
“He hasn’t got any,” David said over his shoulder.
“How do you know?” Julia frowned.
“Talked to him once. His brother died young. Some nephew around, but what use are old folks to him? He and Margaret Anne never had kids. So if anything happens, he’s completely alone. And old people don’t last long alone—like swans. Loses his mate, he’ll pine away.”
“Who knew you were such a romantic? *Like swans*,” Julia muttered.
The next evening after supper, David decided to check on Albert.
“Go on, maybe he needs help. Wouldn’t want him fading away,” Julia agreed.
David went downstairs. Albert’s door was unlocked. He stepped inside hurriedly.
“Albert, you alive?” he called into the flat.
From the kitchen emerged Albert, hunched and deflated.
“Sorry, just came to see you. Why’s your door open?”
“Forgot,” Albert waved a hand. “Come in, want some tea?”
“Just ate. You had anything?”
“Can’t stomach a bite. Keep thinking of my Maggie.” He sank onto a battered stool.
David entered the tidy little kitchen. On the table sat an unfinished cup of tea with a saucer, decorated with bright red poppies and golden leaves.
“My Margaret Anne loved pretty china,” Albert sighed. “She’s gone, but I daren’t disobey—can’t drink from a mug. Got used to it. Fancy joining me?”
“Don’t despair yet. Medicine’s better these days…”
“All our lives together. Can’t imagine being without her… She was never ill, always on her feet. Must’ve used up her strength.” Albert sighed—or maybe sobbed—ignoring David. “Thought I’d go first. Now I see it’s better this way. Harder for her. I’m tougher. You go, I’ll be alright.”
“Well? How is he?” Julia asked when David returned.
“Keeping stiff upper lip. Says she was never ill.”
“Then she’ll pull through,” Julia said brightly.
But the next day, Albert came to their flat and said Margaret Anne had passed. He used her full name. Asked for help with the funeral.
“Of course, come in, we’ll sort it,” David agreed.
Two weeks after the funeral, Julia sat beside David on the sofa.
“Poor old man. All alone now,” she began.
David nodded, eyes glued to the football match on TV.
“I was thinking—”
David nodded again without listening.
“What are you nodding at? I haven’t said anything yet. Look away from that screen,” Julia demanded.
“Can’t this wait?” David tracked the game intently.
“No. William turns fifteen in two months. Few more years, he’s grown. What if he marries? His wife’ll come *here*, to this very flat,” Julia said.
“What? Whose wife? Who?” David finally tore his eyes from the TV, glancing at her.
“Exactly. Time flies. How do four of us fit here? Five?” she pressed.
“Where’s this going? I don’t follow.” David, irritated, turned from the screen. His team was losing.
“Albert’s eighty-one. I checked. Respectable age. Anything could happen. Alone, lonely, bored. And he’s got a two-bedder. If anything happens, the state gets it,” Julia continued.
“So? We’re not family. It’s not coming to us.”
“Exactly. But it *should*. William’ll need somewhere for a wife.”
“Still not following. How?” David asked, more interested now.
“Main thing is, don’t let anyone beat us to it.”
“Seriously? You mean to—” David drew a finger across his throat.
“What? Have you lost it? No crime. All above board. We help him, care for him. Take guardianship. Best get a contract,” Julia mused. “Mustn’t scare him, but no time to waste.”
“Ahhh,” David drawled. “You’re clever.” He looked at her with new respect.
“Exactly. And they say men are smarter.” Julia smirked.
“Explain, oh brilliant wife, how you propose this? His wife just died, and you’re here with contracts. He can still fend for himself.”
“For now. What if someone else gets in first? Then our flat’s gone.”
“*Our* flat? Jumping the gun, Julia?”
“Not straight away. Step by step. First, shopping—heavy bags are hard for him. Cook him dinner. Wait till he’s used to the good life, then *he’ll* suggest it.”
“What if he lives to a hundred?” David doubted.
“Could happen,” Julia admitted. “Unlikely though. You said it yourself—swans.”
David scratched his chest, considering.
“Take him dinner tomorrow. I’ll offer shopping. No, better—I’ll bring tea, bread, ham…”
“Why me?” David protested.
“Should I do everything? Men understand men. William can help too. Right, love?” Julia called to their son’s room.
“Keep me out of your scheming,” William shouted back.
Next day, Julia handed David a container.
“Take this to Albert. Ask if he needs anything. Stay, talk—ease the loneliness.”
Grumbling, David went.
And so they helped. Albert was wary at first. Then grew accustomed—offered tea, showed photos, spoke of himself. Turned out he’d been an engineer at a factory; Margaret Anne taught literature.
“Shame we didn’t know sooner,” Julia sighed. “William’s rubbish at essays. Margaret Anne could’ve helped. He’s a good lad. Time flies—soon he’ll finish school, marry. Bit cramped here. How do we all fit?” She sighed theatrically.
Albert nodded sympathetically, glancing around. Julia followed his gaze.
“Shall we redo your wallpaper? Faded badly. Not had a makeover on a pension, eh?”
“Oh, Julia, you spoil me.” Albert softened. “Though… why not? Margaret Anne wanted it done.”
“Exactly. Tomorrow, David and I’ll buy wallpaper. Join us? No? Weekend, we’ll start. No point waiting.”
“Are we *actually* redoing his flat?” David asked later.
“We are,” Julia nodded firmly. “Laminate too, if needed. His floors are awful. It’s practically *our* flat now.”
“Suppose. What if he wants new furniture? We’re not rich—can’And as the years passed, Albert lived happily with Oksana, the flat stayed full of laughter and warmth, while Julia and David learned that some things—like kindness—are far more valuable than any inheritance.
