**A Stranger Yet Family**
*Diary Entry*
“Mum Fay, how are you? Anton and I were passing by after shopping and thought we’d stop in—got you something,” Julie hugged the woman she’d chosen to call her mother.
It had been their decision years ago—Fay and Julie would be mother and daughter, though no blood tied them. Fay was nearing seventy, sixty-six to be exact. Life hadn’t been kind—too much struggle, too much sorrow. But thirteen years ago, fate sent Julie to her doorstep. A knock in the night, and there she stood—a young woman, bruised and shivering.
“Come in, love, it’s alright,” Fay murmured, easing her inside. The air was thick with autumn’s damp chill.
“My name’s Fay. Call me Auntie Fay, if you like.”
“Julie,” the girl whispered before dissolving into tears.
“Cry it out, love,” Fay soothed, stroking her hair. She fetched the medicine box, cleaned the scrape on Julie’s cheek, then settled her with tea. Questions could wait.
Eventually, Julie spoke. “Thank you, Auntie Fay. I walked all day. Didn’t even know where I was—just knocked on your door.”
“This is Elmbrook. Where’ve you come from?”
“We lived in town. My husband—he wasn’t always like that. But after we married… he changed. When I told him I was pregnant, he—” Her voice broke. “I ran. Nowhere to go, though. I grew up in care.”
Fay’s heart ached. “Stay as long as you need. Longer, if you want. This house is too empty anyway.”
Julie stayed. Anton was born months later, and Fay adored him like a grandson. In time, Julie asked, “Auntie Fay… may I call you Mum? Anton already calls you Gran.”
Fay’s eyes glistened. “You’ve been my daughter in my heart for years.”
Villagers noticed. “That Julie’s a good sort,” they’d say at the market. “Proper respects you. Shame about your Vera, but God sent Julie instead.”
Fay would smile. “Like two lost moths drawn to the same light. Alone, we weren’t. Not with Anton about.”
Then came Max—a decent man from the village. He’d fancied Julie for her gentle ways. Anton being hers didn’t deter him; he’d always wanted kids. His first wife, Tanya, had left him, refusing children.
When he proposed, Julie hesitated. Fay urged her: “Take him. Good man, that one. He’ll love Anton as his own.”
“But you’ll be alone again.”
Fay scoffed. “He lives two doors down! I’ll have you closer than ever.”
So Julie married Max. Another child followed—a girl this time. Fay’s house stayed quiet, but her heart didn’t. Max treated her like family, calling her “Mum” without hesitation.
It hadn’t always been so.
Decades ago, Fay had married Archie, believing it love. Vera came soon after. At first, life was steady—until Archie took to drinking. Nights out became affairs. When Fay learned of his indiscretions, her mother-in-law pleaded, “Stay. He might settle.”
He didn’t. Fay left, returning to her ailing mother’s cottage. Struggling on a meagre wage, she raised Vera alone.
Years passed. Vera married, then divorced. When Zach courted Fay at thirty-eight, Vera encouraged it. “He’s steady, Mum.”
For seven years, he was. Then Fay fell ill—heart trouble. Hospitalised, she trusted Vera to mind Zach.
Returning home, she found the truth. Zach and Vera, entwined on the porch.
“How could you?” Fay’s voice shook.
Vera smirked. “You were gone. I filled in.”
Zach offered no remorse. “Pack your things. Both of you.”
Vera sneered. “Where’ll we go? This is my home too.”
“Your problem now.”
Zach returned a year later, begging forgiveness. “She’s gone. Take me back.”
Fay shut the door in his face.
Vera never came home. A neighbour once spotted her in town.
“Your mum’s alone,” the woman chided.
Vera laughed. “What’s she to me? She’s got nothing. Tell her to forget me.”
Fay wept—then let go.
Then Julie arrived.
Now, though the walls are silent, the house thrums with life—through laughter down the lane, through Anton’s drawings pinned to her fridge. Strangers once, now family. Hers.
