My husband had a grandmother he adored. Every summer, he would stay with her in her cottage in the English countryside. She never minded his presence. In those days, she ran her own little business. She managed everything herself, selling medicinal herbs to local chemists. My husband doesnt quite know how she organised it all, but he remembers that, for the times, she earned a considerable sum. She always had a distinctive charactershe loved my husband dearly, never skimped when it came to putting food on the table, but she never gave him pocket money, not even for small treats. The whole family suspected she was saving up for something important.
Her house was filled with large wardrobes, each with dozens of compartments, all locked with tiny keys. As a child, my husband was often curious about what these cupboards contained, but his grandmother always insisted everything was for her work. Years went by, and eventually, the world changed. Small businesses popped up everywhere, and her rivals soon overtook her. Thats when she began working as a healer. She never asked for money for her services, though her visitors were often quite wealthy. We used to visit her when she was alive. She lived in great austerity, dressed in threadbare clothes, ate plain meals. We would take food for her, but she would always turn it away. She insisted we mustnt spoil hershe said she was quite used to living that way.
When she passed away, she left her house to my husband. When we arrived to sort out her affairs, we discovered the larder stacked with foodonly, all of it was long past its use-by date. Apparently, grateful clients brought her food as thanks, but she never touched any of it. The real surprise came when we opened up her cupboards. Inside were heaps of expensive items from the nineties, like a private museum of quirky treasures. Dozens and dozens of them. Why on earth would she keep her money tied up in things destined to lose their worth? I just cant fathom that woman.
