Millie was sleeping soundly when the doorbell rang. “Who could be calling at this hour?” she grumbled, turning over in bed. But the ringing persisted.
“What do you want from me?” Millie said, now quite annoyed, as she got up. She threw on a robe and approached the door, peeking through the peephole. Outside stood a disheveled old woman with a large cat in her arms.
“Who’s there?” Millie asked sternly. She wasn’t about to open the door, having heard too many stories, but the old woman groaned. Millie looked through the peephole again and saw the old woman slowly sliding down the wall, her cat jumping from her arms and pacing worriedly around her.
“Why is this happening to me?” thought Millie as she opened the door. “Ma’am, are you okay? I’ll call for an ambulance. Everything will be alright, just hang in there.”
She helped the old woman into the apartment, sitting her down on the sofa before rushing to call for medical help. The cat sat beside the elderly lady, watching Millie with curiosity.
“Alright, help’s on the way. What’s your name?” Millie asked.
“Antonia Smith,” the old woman croaked, “my documents are here,” she gestured weakly behind her.
Bending down, Millie found a small backpack and, with some effort, helped Antonia take it off and retrieved her documents.
“Dear, I won’t go to the hospital. I need to meet my grandson, he’s waiting on money from me. Otherwise, he’ll throw us out. And who will take care of my cat then?”
“Let’s wait until the doctor arrives and sees if you can really go anywhere in this condition. I’ll watch over your cat. But why are you visiting your grandson with money instead of him coming to you?”
“Oh, don’t ask, dear. You don’t need to know.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang again, and Millie opened it to admit the doctor and nurse. They quickly assessed the old woman’s condition and turned to Millie.
“We’ll need to take your grandma to the hospital. We’re heading to City Hospital No. 5. You can bring her some things tomorrow—mug, plate, change of clothes.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the old woman protested.
“Go on, ma’am. I’ll visit you tomorrow. Don’t worry about the cat. I adore cats, and we’ll get along just fine.”
***
The next morning, Millie got up early with one thought in mind: why do I always end up in these situations? But, on the other hand, the old woman seemed sweet, and perhaps they could become friends.
Millie’s childhood was tough, growing up in an alcoholic family where she felt unwanted. Old ladies in the neighborhood had often been her solace—patting her head, helping with her hair, and sometimes feeding her treats. This old woman reminded Millie of those days, and she felt a tinge of sadness. Her parents had died when she was 13 after drinking bad vodka, and the kindness of a neighbor had been her saving grace in the orphanage, preventing her from feeling as lonely as the other children. But by 16, she had also lost that neighbor, Maria Cornwell, leaving Millie alone in the world.
At 23, Millie was a practical young woman. The orphanage had taught her to fend for herself. When she decided to find out more about the grandson, she felt no fear. She had noted the address from Antonia’s passport when handing the documents to the medics.
It was a short walk to the house on Cumberland Street. She approached the bench where two old women were sitting and struck up a conversation to glean some information.
Within ten minutes, Millie learned all about her newfound acquaintance’s life. The elderly lady had lived there for many years, raising her grandson alone after her daughter and son-in-law died when the boy was around five. The grandson had since joined a bad crowd, treating his grandmother poorly, demanding money from her, and threatening her cat. He rented out the apartment inherited from his parents and lived elsewhere for comfort. Despite multiple police calls, they dismissed it as family matters.
Millie was furious. She marched up the stairs and rang the doorbell. A sleepy, drunken young man opened the door.
“How dare you mistreat your grandma?” Millie charged, advancing like a steamroller before the young man could respond, “Listen here, you brat. Pack your things and head back to your own place, you got that?”
The dismayed young man nodded silently.
“And if I hear you’ve hurt your grandma again, I’ll deal with you myself.”
“Alright, alright, I get it. Just back off. Who are you anyway?”
“What does it matter who I am? If you don’t listen, you might just find some interesting evidence that sends you to court,” Millie threatened, using a line she recalled from the orphanage boys.
Fifteen minutes later, the young man left the building with a large bag, and Millie stayed behind to tidy up Antonia’s apartment. She needed to finish quickly so she could visit Mrs. Smith and stop by the pet store—now that she wasn’t living alone, but with a cat.
***
Antonia Smith was delighted to see Millie. The young woman unpacked a bag of groceries.
“This is for you. Don’t worry; your cat is well fed. But I’ve sent your grandson back to his place, and there’s no debating that. It’s not right for an elderly person to be put out on the street or for your cat to be mistreated.”
“Thank you, dear. I thought I’d die on the streets, who would need someone old like me?”
“I need you, and so does your cat. Rest up; I’ll visit again tomorrow.”
***
A week later, Millie brought Antonia out of the hospital and back home.
“It’s so tidy! How can I thank you?”
“You don’t need to thank me—just let me call you grandma.”
“Of course, my dear. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The cat sat contentedly, observing both the old woman and Millie. He was fed, loved, and free from being dragged out in the cold. What more could a cat want for happiness? And most importantly, the troublesome grandson was no longer around to harass him.
***
A year passed, and Millie had grown so accustomed to Antonia Smith being like a grandmother to her that she almost believed it herself, though the grandson occasionally clouded her mood. So, they decided Millie would move into Antonia’s apartment and rent out her tiny studio. After all, every bit of money helped.
Millie insisted on giving her grandma the rental earnings, although Antonia protested.
“Grandma, I’m living in a wonderful apartment for free; my conscience won’t allow me otherwise.”
A year later, Antonia’s grandson was killed in a drunken brawl.
***
Two more years passed when Millie met her future husband. It happened in the most ordinary way—a new doctor took charge at the local clinic, a young man a bit older than Millie. He was so attentive to grandma and treated her so well that Antonia seemed to rejuvenate. Millie, on the other hand, fell in love for the first time in her life.
“Oh, my dear girl, he’s a good man. Don’t let him slip away. He’s kind, respectful, and decent.”
When Peter proposed to Millie, she beamed, overwhelmed with joy. And a year later, when their first child was born, Millie felt like the happiest mom in the world, while Antonia Smith was the happiest great-grandmother.
They lived together happily for another twelve years before Antonia quietly passed away at 95. Despite her age, she remained mentally sharp and even tried to help Millie. After the funeral, Millie was inconsolable, her husband Peter and their children her only solace. The original cat was long gone, replaced by a foundling.
A month later, they had to vacate the apartment, which legally remained Antonia’s. Millie had never wanted to accept the flat, though Antonia insisted.
While sorting through Antonia’s documents, Millie unexpectedly found a letter.
“Dear Millie! If only you knew the happiness you’ve brought me. You’re like my daughter, Vicky, reborn. Without you, I wouldn’t have lived such joyful years. Thank you, and please accept the gift in the cupboard—it’s yours, my beloved granddaughter!”
Millie burst into tears. Antonia had called her granddaughter during her lifetime, but “beloved granddaughter” shook her deeply.
“What happened?” Peter asked.
Millie handed him the letter.
Peter finished reading and went to the cupboard. Removing the drawers, he found a hidden compartment with a rolled document and a note.
“Dearest Millie, here’s the deed to the apartment. It’s been done for a while, so there’s no point in refusing. As for the money in the packet, it’s your rental earnings. Take it; I know you’ll use it wisely.”
Millie and Peter would go on to live a long and happy life surrounded by children, grandchildren, and eventually great-grandchildren.
