“Look, heres the thingweve got guests coming soon, and you lot need to clear out. You understand, dont you? No one wants old folks spoiling the holiday cheer.”
“But son, where are we supposed to go? Weve no one here,” Mum asked, her voice trembling.
“How should I know? That neighbour from the village invited you oncego there,” he snapped.
Victor and Margaret had regretted a hundred times over listening to their son and selling their cottage. Life there had been hard, but it was *theirs*. Now? They tiptoed around their own flat, afraid to breathe too loud lest their daughter-in-law, Catherine, scowl at them. Everything annoyed herthe shuffle of their slippers, the way they sipped tea, even how they chewed.
The only one who cared for them was their grandson, Thomasa handsome lad who adored his grandparents fiercely. If his mother raised her voice at them in his presence, hed snap back without hesitation. But their son, Edward? Whether out of fear or indifference, he never stood up for them.
Thomas often had supper with them, though he was rarely home. He lived near his internship during the week, only visiting on weekends. For the elderly couple, his arrivals were like holidays.
New Years Eve arrived. Thomas came early, bearing giftswarm socks and gloves. He knew they were always cold. Plain gloves for Granddad, embroidered ones for Granny.
Margaret pressed the gloves to her face and wept.
“Granny, dont you like them?”
“Oh, my dear, theyre perfect. The most precious things Ive ever owned.”
She hugged him, and he kissed her hands, just as he had since childhood. They always smelled of something lovelyapple pie, fresh dough, or simply of warmth and love.
“Listen, youll have to manage without me for a few days. Off with the lads for a bit, then Ill be back.”
“Go on, love,” Margaret said. “Well be fine.”
Thomas left. An hour later, Catherines shrill voice cut through the flat. Guests were cominghow *dare* the old folks still be here? Where would they sleep? Edward mumbled excuses, but Catherine wouldnt hear it.
The elderly pair sat frozen in their room, afraid to even make tea. Victor dug out hidden biscuits, and they ate by the window in silence. A tear trembled in Margarets eyehow cruel, to live long enough to become a burden.
As dusk fell, Edward appeared.
“Look, guests are coming. You need to go. You understand.”
“But where, son? The buses have stoppedwe dont even know where the station is!”
“Not my problem. Catherine says youve an hour.”
Left alone, they packed in silence, even their grandsons gifts now a bitter comfort. Outside, the world rushed by, uncaring.
Margaret took Victors arm, and they wandered to a park, stopping at a café for tea and sandwichestheir first meal all day. They lingered, dreading the cold. Snow fell as they settled in a gazebo, huddled together.
Margaret studied her gloves. Victor sighed.
“At least our Thomas has a heart, unlike his parents.”
“We promised him wed manage,” Margaret whispered.
The snow thickened. Lights twinkled in distant windows as families gathered. Thena bark. A little spaniel nosed Margarets knees, whining.
“Hello there! Lost, are you?”
A womans voice called out. “Lord! Where are you? Time to go home!”
The dog yipped. The womanEmilyhurried over, spotting the shivering pair.
“Sorry about Lordhes harmless. But how long have you been here?”
“A while, love,” Margaret said. “Lovely dog.”
“Why arent you home? Its freezingand nearly midnight!”
Silence.
Emilys breath caught. “Youve nowhere to go, have you?”
She didnt wait for an answer. “Right. Conversations moving indoors. Im freezing, and so are you. Up you getyoure coming with me.”
At her flat, warmth and the smell of roasting meat welcomed them. A Christmas tree glowed in the corner. Over tea, Margaret confessed their shamehow their own son had cast them out.
Emilys eyes burned. “Id give anything to have my parents back,” she said softly.
They celebrated the New Year togetherno longer strangers. By morning, Emily refused to let them leave. “Stay the week, at least.”
When Thomas returned, he found their room empty.
“Mum, where are they?”
“How should I know? They left.”
“Left? On New Years Eve?”
“We *asked* them to. Guests were cominghaving old folk around is embarrassing!”
Thomas paled. “Youre the embarrassing ones.” He stormed out, searching streets in despair until
Gloves. Emilys gloves. The ones hed given Granny.
“Whered you get those?”
Emily took one look at him. “Youre Thomas, arent you? Come with me.”
At her flat, the smell of pancakes filled the air.
“I love that smell,” Thomas murmured.
“Look whos here,” Emily called.
Margaret rushed to him, weeping. Over tea, plans were madetheyd stay with Emily. Thomas visited daily.
The once-quiet flat now brimmed with lifelaughter, cooking, Lord wagging between them all.
And Thomas and Emily? Well, thats another story.
Kindness, after all, is a force of its own. Sometimes, all it takes is a smile, a question, a small actit *will* find its way back.
So tell mewhat would *you* have done?
