Richard stubbornly refused to believe that Alice was his daughter. His wife, Dorothy, worked at the local grocers. People whispered that she often slipped away to the back room with other men. So her husband never accepted that little Alice was truly his child, and he couldnt warm to the girl. Only Granddad Henry looked after his granddaughter, and in the end, he left her the family cottage.
Alice was loved only by her grandfather
Alice was often ill as a child. She was delicate and uncommonly small for her age. No one in your family or mine has ever been so tiny, Richard would grumble. Just look at the child, shes scarcely taller than a garden hedge. Eventually, Dorothys own affection for her daughter began to wither, poisoned by Richards suspicion.
The only soul who truly loved Alice was Granddad Henry. His cottage stood at the very edge of the village, beside the woodlands. Henry had worked as a gamekeeper all his life. Even in retirement, he could be found most days roaming through the trees, gathering berries and medicinal herbs, and in winter, leaving food for the wild animals. People in the village found him a little peculiarmaybe even a bit unnerving. Hed say the oddest things, and theyd often come true. Yet folk would make the journey to his door for remedies and infusions.
Henry had buried his wife many years before. The woods and his granddaughter became his only comforts. Once Alice began school, she spent more time at Henrys cottage than in her parents house. He taught her about the plants and roots of the English countryside. Alice was bright and learned quickly; when asked what she wanted to do in life, shed say, I want to heal people. Dorothy would sigh and say she hadnt a penny to put her daughter through studies. Henry would gently reassure Alice, Im not destitute yet, my dear. Ill help. And if it comes to it, we could always sell the cow.
He left her the cottage and wished her happiness
Dorothy seldom visited her father, but one day she turned up at his cottage. This was no social call; shed come to beg for money after her son, Charles, lost heavily at cards in London. Hed come back battered and was now in desperate need of funds.
So, you come running when the flames lick at your heels? Henry asked sternly. You havent darkened my door for years! He refused her pleas. Ive no wish to pay off Charlies debts. My resources are for Alice and her future.
Dorothy flew into a rage. Youre both dead to me now! she shouted, and stormed from the cottage. When Alice won a place at the nursing school, her parents didnt offer so much as a pound. Only Henry stood by her, and Alices scholarship helped too, for she always earned top marks.
Near the end of her studies, Henry fell ill. Sensing his time was short, the old man told Alice that the cottage was hers by inheritance. He pressed upon her to seek work in the city, but not to forget the houseA home lives only so long as it holds the warmth of people, he warned. Come winter, keep the fire in the hearth, and dont fear being alone here. This place will bring you what you needyoull find happiness, my girl. It seemed he knew more than he let on.
Henrys prediction came true
That autumn, Henry passed away. Alice was working as a nurse at the county hospital. On weekends, shed travel out to the cottage to keep it warm. Henry had chopped so much wood that it would last for seasons. The weather forecast was bleak. Alice had two days off and didnt want to stay in the stuffy room she let from her friends elderly relatives in town.
She arrived at the village as dusk was falling. That night, a snowstorm swept through. By morning the wind had died, but the snow was still falling, blanketing the road. A knock at the door startled Alice. She opened it to find a young man, a stranger, standing outside. Good day. My cars stuck opposite your place. Might you have a spade? he asked. Theres one by the porch, please help yourself. Would you like some help? Alice replied. The man glanced from her slight figure to the snow and replied, Wouldnt want both of us buried out there.
He was adept with the spade and managed to start his car, only to get stuck again after a few yards. He set to digging once more, until Alice invited him inside for a cup of hot tea. No sense standing about in the coldsurely the storm would soon pass and the main road would be cleared, it was a busy enough track.
After a moments hesitation, the stranger accepted and followed Alice indoors. Arent you afraid to be here alone by the woods? he asked curiously. Alice explained she only visited on weekends and worked in the city. She was anxious about how shed get backwhat if the bus didnt run? The stranger, introducing himself as Edward, offered her a lift, as he was heading to the same county town. Alice agreed.
One day, Alice decided to walk home from work, and to her surprise, there was Edward waiting for her at the gate. Perhaps your herbal tea has some kind of magic in it, he joked. I felt I simply had to see you again. Maybe youll make me another cup?
They never bothered with a wedding. Alice didnt care for the fuss, and in time Edward relented. But there was a true and steady love between them. Alice learned that some men really do care for their wives as the old tales say. When their first child was born, the midwives marvelled that such a small woman had delivered such a strong, hearty son. When asked his name, Alice replied, Hell be Henry, after a very good man.The cottage, which had once held only sorrow and old loneliness, now echoed with laughter and the patter of Henrys small feet. Alice kept the fire always burning, as her grandfather had asked, and found that she never felt alone. Neighbours wandered by more often, drawn by the aroma of fresh bread or the promise of one of Alices teas; ailing children were carried up the lane to be soothed by her gentle touch. Even Richard, grown pale and quieter with the years, sometimes came to stand outside the garden gate, watching his grandson play among the wild roses that Henry had tended.
In early spring, when the first bluebells nodded under the beeches, Alice would take little Henry by the hand and walk through the woods, teaching him which leaves were safe, which berries would cure a cough. The boys laughter carried through the trees, bright and fearless. Sometimes Alice paused among the shadows, certain she could hear her grandfathers steady step just ahead or catch the scent of his pipe smoke in the green hush.
With every year, the hearths warmth spread deeper, reaching old wounds and knitting them closed. Alice never thought of the past with bitterness. Instead, as she watched her son and Edward in the garden, shed whisper a quiet thanksfor the hard lessons, for her grandfathers stubborn love, and for the home that waited through every winter for her return.
On the sunniest days, when the windows were open and the air was full of birdsong, passing villagers would often glance up the path and say, Old Henry was right. That cottage brings happiness at last. And though Alice never corrected them, she knew the truth: happiness was not in the cottage itself, but in the love that burned, ever bright, in the hearts that called it home.
