Brownie
Daniel, was that you tidying up the garden? Margaret touched her son gently on the shoulder.
He jolted, tugged off his headphones. The monsters on his computer screen were still bashing each other, but Daniel wasnt looking anymore.
What, Mum?
I asked, when did you get in from school?
Just now.
Then who cleaned up outside?
How should I know? Maybe Emily did it?
Margaret laughed. Her three-year-old daughter certainly had a businesslike air, but orchestrating a whole garden transformation was rather beyond her.
Very funny!
Must have been the brownie, then!
Oh, absolutely! In person! You cheeky thing. Why dont you pop round Grans and bring Emily home? Shes probably lost track of time. Ill get dinner started. Are you hungry?
Yeah. Me and the lads had some buns at lunchtime, but that was forever ago. Mum, when will we finally get morning school?
I havent heard a word, love. Theyre staying quiet on that front. Its just too crowded.
Oh well. At least I can sleep in. Daniel, ever the optimist, managed to find a bright spot in any mess.
Margaret kissed his head, gave his ear a playful tug as he tried to dodge her, and headed to the kitchen.
Teenagers
Thirteen already. Thinks hes all grown up, but every time Margarets lips brushed the coarse dark hair at his crown so much like his fathers hed freeze.
Her children couldnt be more different. Daniel, tall and dark-haired, blue-eyed, was the spitting image of his late father, Simon. Not just in appearance his stubbornness, his unfailing decency, his sense of duty, all began to surface. Perhaps he didnt clean the garden, but Margaret was sure hed done the washing up. The kitchen floor still gleamed with damp streaks. Where else would she find such a helper? Unless little Emily grew up to match.
Emily was Margarets miracle. Nearly ten years of waiting and the faintest flicker of hope. Complications after her first birth had nearly dashed those hopes yet the tiniest hope was enough and out she came, their girl. Light as a field daisy, with silvery curls and deep blue eyes, just like Daniels. Emily had Margarets looks, her gentleness; shed press close against her mother or brother, wordless, just for warmth.
Whats up, Em?
And the room would fill with light; nobody else in the world could smile like Emily, Margaret knew that as sure as morning. Now, no one else
That smile both delighted and pierced Margarets heart at once. It was her fathers smile Simons. And he was gone
She wanted to howl with grief but couldnt; the children needed her.
Her husband had been a firefighter. Hed saved people. Once, he rescued an entire family from the woods: mum, dad, three kids and went back for the grandmother, who refused to leave her animals. But then it was too late. The fire closed in.
Margaret learned Simon was lost before anyone told her. Her heart twisted and ached with foreboding. She detached little Emily, wailing in protest, called to Simons mother, who was staying for a few days to help:
Mum, please take her! I need to make a call!
Then she was out driving, milk soaking her shirt, hands cramped on the wheel, racing to the fire station not even feeling it.
How had she hung on, stood at the edge and not fallen?
The children saved her. Daniel never left her side.
Daniel, lets get you tucked up, Simons mum, Dorothy, was barely standing, but she never left Margaret. She would make Margaret eat, bring over Emily for feeds.
No, I want to stay with Mummy! Daniel would shake his head and press Margarets cold hands to his cheek. Gran, why are Mums hands so cold?
Margaret hardly remembered any of this. Only fragments. Even packing bags, stuffing toys and childrens clothes while barely aware.
I cant stay here I keep expecting Simon to slam the door and shout, just like always: “Im home!”
Quite right, pet. Lets go to mine for a while. Well think of something.
No, that wont do. Its still too full of him there. It hurts Ill go to Grandmas old cottage.
But no ones lived there in years! You cant take the children there!
Ill just need to tidy up. Itll be fine. And youll be nearby. I cant do it without you.
I wouldnt leave you, love. Youre all Ive got
Please, Mum, lets not. Well both only end up weeping again, and weve so much to sort out. Keep an eye on Emily for me, will you? Ill finish packing. And Daniel ought to eat. Hes hardly touching food unless I sit down with him, but I can’t face it.
That wont do! Dorothys voice was sharp now. Youre a mother! If you keep yourself together, the kids will be all right. But if you go under what then? I cant manage alone, not at my age. Look after yourself!
Margaret grabbed Dorothys hands and kissed them. Then she turned back to the flurry of packing, desperate to flee anywhere, anywhere. The happiness in that little flat would never return, and to haunt those rooms breathing memories was more than she could bear
Grandmas house received them coldly and rightly so. Margaret had left it behind for another life, rarely visiting.
She walked from room to room, fingertips along the faded wallpaper, brushing dust from the old sideboard, lifting the embroidered cloth still draping it, then swung open the windows to let the autumn chill inside.
Mum, keep the kids with you for a bit. Ill come for Emilys feed soon.
Are you sure youll manage?
Absolutely
She wasnt alone for long. Half an hour later, Susan appeared, friend and old schoolmate.
Not even a call? Still too proud, are you? Wheres the mop?
Susan was all energy. A chatterbox, but for her own shed work herself to shreds.
Margaret washed the soap off her hands, embraced Susan awkwardly.
Hello
Hello yourself! Kids at your mother-in-laws, I gather.
Yeah.
Well, dont just stand there. Are you staying at hers tonight?
No, here.
Well then, what are you waiting for?
Susan darted off in search of some water.
Su! Margaret gasped.
What? Oh, this? Yes, thats right.
When?
February. Why so shocked? Im pregnant, not bedridden.
Whos the dad?
As if you dont know! She grabbed a damp cloth, set about scrubbing the windowsill. Goodness, what a mess!
Gavin? But hes
Gone, yes. Ill be a single mum-to-be. We’ll talk later, all right? Ill tell you everything, just not now.
Is he coming back?
Gavin? No. His freedom matters most. So be it. But Ill have my own baby, Margaret my very own!
Margaret knew what those words meant to Susan. Her first marriage ended when she was told shed never bear children, the in-laws rallying behind her ex. “Poor boy, shame he married the wrong one.” Susan had wept into her pillow and tried to justify herself, until she divorced him.
“No point keeping a husband who wont stand up for you; better to have none at all.”
Her ex soon remarried and, as it turned out, the trouble wasnt with Susan. The new wife insisted on tests; it was the ex all along. Years later, he became a father after treatment.
Susan was happy for him forgiven the past, grateful things had turned out the way they had. Had she stayed, shed never have found hope again, never had the shy, blossoming happiness now inside her. Gavin had walked away, but that didnt matter anymore. She was no longer cowed by past laughter.
They scrubbed and dusted until evening. But it was worth it: the old house seemed to shudder, blink in the chilly dusk, mutter as it awoke, and spring back to life.
Susan, tired and satisfied, settled at the kitchen table while Margaret made tea, lost in thought.
How fast life moved, how fleeting it all seemed
Was it really so long ago when theyd rush here to grab hot scones and dash to the river, clattering off under Grandmas cry:
Oi! Cant you girls eat decently?!
In an hour! theyd call over their shoulders, never slowing down.
That “hour” would stretch right till dusk. By then, theyd find Margarets grandmother in the garden after the heat had faded, grab a hoe, and help quietly. One woman, a farm job, and a household how else manage? Grandma worked at the dairy down the lane.
Her little farm was proper big. She had to raise a granddaughter, support her own son now starting a new family in town. Margaret was her eldest grandchild; her mother had died in childbirth, and Dad, nursing his grief, had vanished to town, leaving Grandma with a tiny girl to raise. When her sons new baby arrived, Grandma brought Margaret to town for a bit, but soon hurried back home. Three-year-old Margaret never understood why Grandma started packing, nor why Grandma wept in silence, stroking Margarets head on the way back.
Grandma passed when Margaret was just eighteen right as shed met Simon. Caught up in a whirlwind of young love, she barely noticed how fast her dearest faded away. She didnt realise until late one night, hearing a muffled groan.
Gran, whats wrong?
They were given three months together then. Just three months to say what mattered. Far too little
But Grandma did do one last great thing. She sent for Simons mother as she grew weaker, banished Margaret from the room, and the two women talked for hours. Margaret never found out what was said, but from that day she had a mum again.
Shed started calling her mother-in-law “Mum” before the wedding.
May I? The question had hung in the air, such relief when she got a nod in reply.
She couldnt explain why she wanted so badly to say that word, even once. Shed never confided in anyone but Grandma. Now, there was someone else who saw her almost as Grandma had.
Rowing with Dorothy was unthinkable never any cause. Nothing but kindness came from Simons mother, any advice always gentle and full of love. Why argue? How common was it to have in-laws who truly felt like family? Margaret was certain rare as rain in June.
She knew, too, how family could fail to mean anything. After Grandma died, half of Dads new family showed up.
Cracking little cottage this could fetch a nice price.
A big, sharp-voiced woman Margaret had never met prowled the plot, shaking her head.
This place is a tip! You ought to have kept it up. Buyers like tidy.
Which buyers? Margaret finally roused, trembling.
Shed spent the week after the funeral like a ghost, taking mouthfuls of food when coaxed by Dorothy, dropping tools and standing still, listening. What if this was all a nightmare, and Grandma would soon burst through the summerhouse, flicking her tea-towel to chase wasps off her jam?
Who else but those buying it! said her step-grandmother, tugging at the strap of her sundress, white skin barely tanned, making Margaret queasy.
Margaret said nothing. She staggered behind the shed, choking down nausea, and by the time she returned Dorothy was there.
Out. The lot of you. Now.
And who are you to tell me what to do here?
The house is Margarets. Theres a deed.
What deed?
Regular one. The bank accounts in her name, too will and all. I helped sort it out myself. So goodbye now. You thought you’d take from an orphan!
The brewing storm passed right over Margarets head. Dorothy steered her off, laid her on the guest bed, peeling off the stained top.
No more tears! No ones going to hurt you. I promised your grandmother. Put this nightie on, and lie down. Ill bring you tea. Sleep, then we talk.
Margaret next saw her father at her wedding.
She hadnt sent an invite he came of his own accord.
As the party larked about, teasing Simon, and Margaret laughed at her new husbands chaotic attempts to swaddle a giant toy baby, someone touched her shoulder. She turned, still grinning.
Hello, love.
Margaret was speechless. Her father pressed some keys into her hand.
Sorry. Papers are with Dorothy. Shell explain. Be happy.
He left the room before she could answer.
The flat hed given her was tiny but cozy: two rooms, a big kitchen. For a while, Margaret wondered why she should leave Grandmas old house.
Youll be better off here, pet. Towns small but has more options. You need to study.
Dorothy, after checking the place, settled at the kitchen table, pleased as punch she had found a way to reason with Margarets father, explain about being a grown-up. He hadnt raised her, but at least he could lend a hand.
Its important. But when? Margaret smiled faintly.
Oh, really?
The dates early yet. I havent even told Simon.
Ill help. Go on, enroll somewhere. Youre bright sounds daft, leaving that talent to waste.
Margaret finished at the local university. Not easy, but Dorothy helped, watching Daniel, providing groceries.
They all breathed easier when Margaret started work and Daniel went to nursery.
Were off to the seaside! Simon would declare, grinning as his two “girls” squealed with glee.
Their only real holiday together. Margaret and Simon swam madly, glancing to the shore where Daniel dug in the sand under Dorothys watchful eye. In the evenings, theyd promenade along the pier, long after the sky darkened and stars stitched themselves over the sea.
One of those evenings, Simon lingered by the carousel with Daniel, while Margaret and Dorothy strolled slowly, chatting about nothing.
At the far end of the pier, a couple quarrelled. Shouting, shoving, flinging accusations then striding off together, still bickering, oblivious to onlookers.
Dorothy watched them go, sighed.
Whats the point? Dont they know theyre stealing time from themselves? Theyll make up, but waste a whole evening, maybe more nerves, hurt What for?
Who says theyll make up? Margaret wondered, watching the couple retreat.
People dont row like that unless they care. Didnt you see her chasing, crying? Hes angry, sure, but hell forgive her. And her him. He looked back half a dozen times. But theyll never get this night back. Nor tomorrow. Maybe theyll be lucky, make up before morning. If they dont? Margaret, you and Simon havent had long together. Someday, remember this pair and ask yourself if you want to waste time fighting. Its so short, love So short
Margaret was thankful for that talk now. She knew she and Simon had never wasted a moment.
She lifted the kettle from the hob, nearly dropping it in fright. A shadow flickered past the kitchen window. Not Daniel. Some man was creeping about outside.
She thought first to lock up, hide, call for help but snapped back. The kids would be home soon, and Dorothy; shed never send them alone with a stranger in the garden.
She gripped the handle of the old kettle warm in her palm and stared from the spout to the window, then strode towards the door.
No light outside shed forgotten to switch it on.
Whos there?!
The shed door whined; Margaret flinched. Fear smothered her breath.
What do you want?! Ill scream!
A dark figure stepped up towards the porch, and Margaret shrank back.
Dont, Margaret, dont. Its me. Alex.
Margaret let the kettle drop and yelped the hot metal scorched her thigh through her dress. Muttering, she set it on the verandah table.
What are you doing in the garden, Alex? Why not come inside?
Alex, a short, sturdy man, stared at his boots just like Daniel did whenever something extraordinary happened, like a smashed window at school.
Well Sorry The shed doors hanging off. Just wanted to fix it. Im off to the bees tomorrow, no idea when Ill be back. Thought Id best do it now.
Margaret blinked.
The shed door?
Now, it all made sense: the mysteriously clean garden, the mended fence, the new boards by the old summer-house.
So youre my brownie! Margaret smiled.
Who?
Brownie! Little helper about the house except you dont drink milk from a saucer. Daniel reckons we should get a cat; says brownies get lonely. Are you lonely?
The kitchens wan light was enough for Margaret to see Alex flush deep red.
Sorry. Shouldve told you.
Thank you But why, Alex?
Alex didnt answer. He waved awkwardly, hopped over the fence, passing Dorothy and the kids, frozen at the gate.
So hes shown himself, at last! Dorothy smirked, handing Margaret a bottle of milk. Pop that in the fridge.
Hang on. Mum, you knew?!
Of course! Whole village does, really. Some secret! Alex has had his eye on you since you first saw my Simon. Didnt you ever notice?
No
Really?! Dorothy was amazed. Not pulling my leg?
Why would I? Honestly, I didnt
Come on, lets have a chat. Dorothy shooed Emily ahead. But first, lets get the kids to bed looks like well be talking for ages.
They talked nearly till dawn. Margaret kept refilling Dorothys tea, listening wide-eyed.
He came to me a year ago, asked for your hand. Said you hadnt anyone closer than me, so I suppose I had to approve. Clever lad! Knew how to get round me.
And did you?
Why not? Margaret, youre young your lifes ahead. The kids will grow, move on, and then its just you stuck watching over an old slug like me. Thats no life! Live! I know how you loved my Simon dont interrupt, Im talking! That sort of love is a once-in-a-lifetime thing youre right. But sometimes luck finds you twice, lets you love again after pain. If you find contentment and comfort with someone, be grateful its a mercy. Even if its not quite what you had with Simon. Daniel needs a man about, besides. He and Alex are thick as thieves. Did you know hes teaching him to drive?
No
Didnt say, did he? Scared of stepping on your toes.
Why?
Who knows? Maybe he thinks youll see it as disrespectful to Simons memory.
What silliness!
Have a word with him, calm him down. Hes torn like Alex is. Emilys too young, barely remembers Simon. Daniel, though, hes in a fix. But all that aside you
What about me? Margaret blushed, dropped her eyes.
Nothing. Dorothy smiled, pushing her cup forward. Top me up, will you? Im parched!
A year later, Margaret and Alex would marry. The next year, another son joined their family.
Oh, just look at that hair, Mum! Margaret, taking her baby home, tugged off his cap to smooth the tousled, flaxen mop, so like Emilys.
Looks like a proper brownie! Dorothy deftly rewrapped the baby in his blanket, scooped him up. Hello there, new grandson! You can call me Granny Dot.
Mum
Just thinking ahead! Now, nurse him, and Ill get to the kitchen. Fancy anything in particular?
A huge ginger cat Daniels present from his stepdad would tiptoe into the room, leap to the sill and watch mother and baby sleep. Silence would perch beside him, gently hug the cat, gazing too. There lay happiness so delicate, so tender In need of careful keeping.
Somewhere, a teaspoon would chime, Emilys giggle would ring out, and Silence would slip down, trailing fingertips over the cats ear. Hed shake his head, wash thoroughly, and prepare to meet the newest member of the family.
Off you go now! Theres plenty here to protect this lot.©
Author: Ludmila LavrovaAs the sun dipped behind the hedgerows and summer shadows lengthened across the humming garden, Margaret stood at the window, cradling her newborn, breathing in the scent of warm milk and wildflowers. Laughter drifted from outsideDaniel teaching Emily to balance along the crooked old wall, Dorothys voice bossing Alex about the hedge, even Susan dropping by, belly round and proud, waving wildly from the gate. The years of sorrow felt suddenly lighter, like a cloak shrugged away at last.
Margaret pressed her cheek against her baby’s soft hair, whispering a promise only the walls could hear: to keep their home filled with kindness, forgiveness, and as much joy as the world would allow. She saw Simon’s blue eyes shining in all her children, heard echoes of Grandmas wisdom in her own voice. Even the garden seemed to know a new beginning had taken root.
Outside, Silence the ginger cat stretched and blinked at the setting sun, then slipped between Daniel and Emily, purring. Emily squealed in delighther laughter bubbling like a river in spring, a sound that stitched every broken piece together. Margaret smiled, tears brimming, heart mending.
There would be days of rain, of loss and stubborn weeds, and others bursting with roses and sun. But this, she knew now: there would always be a hand to hold at the door, a seat kept warm at the table, and some quiet presenceseen or unseentidying the corners, mending what mattered, watching over them all.
And, in the shelter of the old cottage, where grief had once taken root, love grew back, tenacious and bright, promising that, even in the most weathered of hearts, spring always finds its way home.
