Ellie stood in front of the lopsided cottage, clutching a crumpled piece of paper with an address. The wind nipped at her neck, tugging at her thin jacket, while the emptiness inside her mirrored the dark, abandoned windows. Twenty years in an orphanage, and now here she wasalone, with a small suitcase and a handful of pounds. What next? She had no idea.
The house looked like it had been left behind in the last century. The roof sagged, the shutters clung on by sheer luck, and the porch creaked under her feet like a warning. Ellie felt tears prickle her eyes. Was this really all life had to offer after two decades without family?
Just then, the neighbours gate squeaked open. Out stepped an elderly woman in a floral dressing gown, who paused, squinted at Ellie, then marched over with purpose.
“What on earth are you doing standing there?” she asked, concern knitting her brows. “Youll catch your death! Its October, and youre barely dressed.”
Ellie pulled out a notepad and scribbled: *”They gave me this house. Im from the orphanage. I cant speak.”*
The woman read it and sighed sympathetically.
“Oh, you poor dear! Im Margaret Whitmore. And you?”
*”Ellie,”* she wrote, her letters shaky.
“Well, you cant stand out here freezing! Come inside, warm up, have some tea. Tomorrow well take a proper look at the housemaybe some repairs can be sorted. There are lads in the village wholl help.”
Margarets home smelled of fresh scones and comfort. Yellow curtains, embroidered tablecloths, potted plants on the windowsillseverything radiated a warmth Ellie had never known. A photo of a young man in a police uniform hung on the wall.
“Thats my son, James,” Margaret said, following Ellies gaze. “A constable. Lovely boy, though hes hardly ever home. Now, dear, how will you manage? Need work?”
Ellie nodded and wrote: *”Desperately. Anything. I can clean, cook, care for people.”*
“Listen, I know someoneEdith Pembroke. Quite elderly, needs a carer. Familys about, but theyre more trouble than help. Fancy giving it a go? Ill give you the address.”
Ediths house was grand but neglectedpeeling paint, an overgrown garden, junk strewn about. The door was opened by a woman in her forties with a tired, irritated expression.
“You the carer?” she asked, eyeing Ellie. “Im Olivia, her granddaughter. Thats Thomas, my husband.”
A man slouched in an armchair with a beer barely glanced up from the telly. The smell of alcohol clung to him.
“Jobs straightforward,” Olivia continued, lighting a cigarette. “Grans mostly bedriddenfeeding, washing, cleaning. Shes a bit sharp-tongued. Well pay £300 a month, meals included. Suit you?”
Ellie wrote: *”Yes. Im mute, but I understand and work carefully.”*
“Mute?” Olivia exchanged a look with Thomas. “Well, thats handy. No gossip, no complaints. Come on, Ill introduce you.”
Edith lay in a dim room that reeked of medicine and neglect. Frail, her eyes brimmed with pain and loneliness. Ellies heart ached at the sight.
“Gran, this is Ellie. Shell look after you,” Olivia announced loudly. “Thomas and I are off for a week. Sort yourselves out.”
The old woman studied Ellie. A flicker of hope crossed her face.
*”Your name?”* Ellie wrote.
“Edith Pembroke and yours?”
*”Ellie. Ill take good care of you.”*
For the first time, Edith almost smiled.
“Right, were off,” Olivia said, already heading out. “Foods in the fridge, meds are nearby. Call if its an emergencybut only if its *really* urgent.”
Once theyd left, Ellie got to work. The place was a disasterdust, grimy dishes, floors that hadnt seen a mop in ages. But what worried her most were the bruises on Ediths armstoo precise to be from falls.
*”How did this happen?”* she wrote.
“Just clumsy,” Edith whispered, avoiding her eyes. “Weak bones”
Ellie didnt believe her but stayed quiet. She aired the room, changed the sheets, bathed Edith gently, and made a light soup, feeding her with patience.
“Havent eaten this well in ages,” Edith murmured, tears welling. “Thank you, love.”
Over the next month, Edith blossomed. Ellie cooked fresh meals, read aloud, helped her move, placed flowers by the window, and put on old telly shows. Edith even dug out photo albums, sharing stories of her youth.
“Ellie, youre a ray of light,” shed say. “Dont know how Id manage without you. Its been so long since I felt cared for.”
The house transformed toocleaner, cosier. Ellie scrubbed, hung fresh curtains, made it a home.
But when Olivia and Thomas visited, the mood soured. They scowled at Ediths improved state, grumbling about “wasted” food and medicine.
“Whys she eating so much?” Olivia griped. “Shell linger forever at this rate.”
After one visit, Ellie found fresh bruises. Edith wept, refusing to eat.
*”What happened?”* Ellie pressed.
“Nothing, dear just old age,” Edith lied, wiping tears. “No one wants me anymore.”
Ellie knew she had to act. The next day, she went to an electronics shop in town. Through notes and gestures, she explained to the clerk.
“A hidden camera?” he guessed. “What for?”
*”To protect someone who cant speak for themselves,”* she wrote.
The clerkDanielstudied her, his smile kind. “Ive got just the thing. Compact, good quality and” He hesitated. “Take it. Feels important. Just be careful.”
Ellie hid the camera in Ediths room. When she reviewed the footage, her blood ran cold.
Thomas shook Edith violently. “Wheres the money? Hand over your pension! We need a new car!”
“Darling, Ive nothing leftits all on meds” Edith sobbed.
“Liar!” Olivia snapped. “Youre hiding it! And that house shouldve been ours by now!”
Thomas struck Edith. She collapsed, weeping.
“Next time, were bringing paperwork,” Olivia said coldly. “Sign itor its the care home for you.”
Ellie trembled with rage. She showed Edith the video and wrote: *”Why endure this? Its criminal!”*
“Wholl protect me, dear?” Edith whispered. “Im old, ill. Theyre young, strong. Whod believe me? And where would I go?”
*”I believe you. And so will others.”* Ellie sprinted to Margarets.
*”Is James home?”* she scrawled, breathless.
“He iswhats wrong, love?” Margaret fretted.
Ellie showed the footage. Jamesa no-nonsense constablestood immediately.
“Thats assault, threats, coercion. Were going now.”
At the house, Olivia and Thomas raged about “set-ups,” but the video was undeniable.
“This is edited! Wed never hurt Gran!” Olivia shrieked.
“Forensics will confirm,” James said calmly, cuffing them. “Youre under arrest.”
Edith was hospitalised. Doctors found broken ribs, bruisesevidence of prolonged abuse.
“If not for you,” a doctor told Ellie, “it mightve been too late.”
Ellie stayed in the big house, but Margaret insisted: “Live with me till Ediths stronger. Youre a heroine, love.”
When Edith returned, though frail, her eyes held light.
“Ellie, you saved me,” she said, hugging her. “How can I thank you?”
*”Just get better,”* Ellie wrote.
“Know what?” Edith said, gripping her hand. “Im leaving you the house. Youve earned it more than my family ever did.”
Ellie tried to refuse, but Edith was firm. “No arguments. And till then, live herenot as my carer, but as my granddaughter.”
Life improved daily. Olivia and Thomas got probation, banned from contacting Edith.
Daniel, the shop clerk, visited oftenturns out, he was Margarets grandson, smitten with Ellies courage.
“Ellie,” he said one evening in the garden, “have you tried speech therapy? Maybe doctors could help?”
*”Im scared. What if it doesnt work?”* she wrote.
“What if it does?” he said softly. “Lets try.
