This Is Not Your Home
Helen looks around the house where she grew up, a wave of sadness washing over her. Shes eighteen, but already feels completely let down by life. Why is fate so cruel? Her grandmothers gone, she failed to get into university, all because of a girl who sat next to her during the exams. That girl copied all of Helens answers, then rushed up to hand in her paper first, whispering something to the examiner. He frowned, came over to Helen, demanded to see her answers, and coldly announced she was disqualified for cheating. There was no way Helen could prove her innocence. Later, it turned out the other girl was the daughter of a local tycoon. How could she stand a chance against people like that?
Now, after all her misfortunes, her mother had resurfaced, complete with two younger half-brothers and a new husband in tow. Where had they been all these years? Helen had been brought up by her grandmother, while her mother, Margaret, left when she was four. And Helen couldnt recall any fond memories from that time anyway. While her father was at work, Margaret would leave Helen alone, sneaking off to enjoy herself. Even as a married woman, she continued searching for a worthy man, open about it even after Helens father died suddenly.
Margaret didnt grieve long after being widowed. She packed her things, left four-year-old Helen on her mothers doorstep and, after selling the flat that belonged to her late husband, vanished without a trace. Grandmother Rosemary had tried in vain to appeal to her daughters sense of responsibility.
Occasionally, Margaret showed up, but never seemed truly interested in Helen. One time, when Helen was twelve, her mother arrived with seven-year-old Sean, demanding Rosemary sign the house over to her.
No, Maggie! Youre not getting anything! Rosemary refused flatly.
When you die, itll be mine anyway! snapped Margaret, glancing irritably at Helen watching from the next room. Then she grabbed Sean and stormed off, slamming the door behind her.
Why do you always quarrel when she comes to visit? Helen asked her grandmother.
Your mothers selfish, love! I didnt raise her well enoughshouldve been firmer! grumbled Rosemary.
Grandmothers illness came out of nowhere. She never used to complain about her health. But one day, when Helen came home from school, she found her always-busy grandmother sitting pale and idle in her favourite chair on the balcony. Helen had never seen her just sitting, doing nothing.
Has something happened? she asked, worried.
Im not feeling well, darling Ring for an ambulance, will you? her grandmother replied quietly.
Then came hospital visits, IVs and death. Rosemary spent her final days in intensive care; no visitors allowed. Desperate and scared, Helen rang her mother. Margaret refused to return at first, but when Helen explained how serious it was, she eventually agreedthough she only just made it back in time for the funeral. Three days later, waving a will in her daughters face, Margaret announced:
This house now belongs to me and my sons! Oleg will be here soon, and I know you two dont get along. So youll have to stay with Aunt Gill for a while, all right?
Not a trace of grief coloured Margarets voice. She seemed almost happy that Rosemary had diednow she was the heir!
Grief-stricken, Helen couldnt fight her mothernot with the will so clear. And so, she moved in with Aunt Gill, her fathers sister. But Gill was a flighty woman who never stopped chasing a good catch, so their house was always noisy with boozy guests. Helen couldnt bear itespecially since some of those guests started paying unwanted attention to her, which frightened her even more.
Helen confided in her boyfriend, Peter, expecting little. But his reaction surprisedand delightedher.
Ill not have strange old men ogling you or laying their hands on you! he declared. Im going to speak to Dad today. Weve got a little one-bed flat on the edge of townDad said I could live there on my own if I got into university, and Ive done my bit, so now its his turn.
I dont see how this involves me, Helen said, confused.
What dyou mean? Were living there together!
Do you think your parents will allow it?
Theyve got no choice! And anywaytake this as an official proposal: will you marry me and live with me in the flat?
Helens eyes filled with tears of happiness.
Of courseyes!
Aunt Gill was thrilled about the upcoming wedding, but Helens mother nearly ground her teeth down in rage.
So, you want to get married now, do you? Just look at you! Couldnt get into university, so youre finding another way to get by! Dont expect a penny from me, do you hear! That house is mine; you wont get anything!
Helen was hurt. Peter could barely make sense of her sobs as she tried to explain what had happened. He brought his weeping fiancée back to his parents house, where his mother made her tea and tried to soothe her.
Peters father, Andrew, listened closely as Helen poured out her troublesso many awful things had happened to her in just a few months.
You poor thing! What sort of woman would say those things? Peters mother exclaimed, shocked by Margarets cruelty.
Im more interested, Andrew mused, in why shes so obsessed with the house if theres a will already. Why does she keep throwing it in your face?
I dont know sniffed Helen. She and Grandma always fought about the house when Mum came round. At first she tried to get her to sell it and split the money; later she demanded Grandmother sign the house over. But Grandma refused, saying if she did, wed end up on the street.
How odd. Have you been to the solicitor since your grandmas passing?
Noshould I? Helen asked, surprised.
To confirm the inheritance.
But my mothers the heir. Im only the granddaughter. Besides, Mum had the will; I saw her show it to me.
Its not quite that simple, said Andrew. Well both go to the solicitors office after the weekend. But for now you need to rest.
Before that happened, Helen had one more encounter with her mother. Margaret brought round some documents, trying to force her to sign, but Peter stepped in firmly:
Shes not signing anything!
And who are you, exactly? Shes old enough to make her own decisions! Margaret snapped.
Im her future husband and I wont let her be tricked into something that might harm her. Shes not signing anything right now.
Margaret exploded with insults, but left empty-handed. For Andrew, this only deepened his suspicions.
A few days later, as promised, Andrew accompanied Helen to the solicitor.
Listen carefully to everything, but check every document before you sign anything, he advised.
Luckily, the solicitor was decent. He took Helens statement, and the next day they received word a probate case had been opened in Helens name. Turns out Grandma Rosemary had a bank account with a small amount of savingsenough to help with Helens studies. Helen hadnt known it existed.
What about the house? Andrew asked the solicitor.
The house was gifted to the girl quite some time ago, the solicitor replied. Her grandmother came here a few years back to sort it all out. Helen, youve just turned eighteen, so the house is yours to do with as you please.
And the will? Helen asked.
It was made seven years ago, then revoked. Your mother probably doesnt know. The house is yours, and youre fully entitled to live in it.
So Andrews suspicions were correct.
What do I do now? Helen asked after they left the office.
Simple! Tell your mother the house is yours, and shell have to move out.
Shell never agree! Shes already packed all my things, ready to toss them out!
In that case, we call the police.
When Helen confronted her mother, Margaret flew into a rage:
You little wretch! Trying to throw your mother out! You leave, not me! Dyou think I believe your lies? Who put you up to this? Your fiancé, with his interfering father? Ive still got the paperwork! Theres a will which says Im the heir!
Thats right, added Oleg, her stepbrother, whod been glaring at Helen the whole time. So get out before I break your legs so you dont come back!
Andrew stepped in, calm but forceful.
If you make threats or behave violently, the police will be involved.
And who are you to lecture me? This house is going on the market! There are buyers coming soon!
But instead of buyers, the police arrived. After assessing the situation, they ordered Margaret and her family to vacate the premises, warning that failure to do so would mean prosecution. Furious, Margaret, her husband, and her sons had no choice but to leave. At last, Helen was able to return to her home. Peter refused to leave her alone, knowing Margarets husband might threaten her, and so he moved in too.
And he was right: Margaret and Oleg continued to torment Helen for weeks, and once they discovered Rosemarys bank account, Margaret challenged the inheritance. She did receive part of the money, but she couldnt claim the house, no matter how she tried. Only after consulting every solicitor in the area did her mother finally accept defeatthen packed up and left for good. Helen never saw her again.
Helen married Peter. The following summer she was accepted to university, onto the course of her dreams. By her third year, she had her first child. She was forever grateful to her husband and his family for supporting her through the toughest period in her life, and she lived the rest of her years in happiness.
Odette
—
Riddle
The cottage was old but well kept. It hadnt stood empty for long, never had the chance to fall into disrepair. Thank heavens for that, thought Mary. I havent got a man to help about the placenot that I expect to find one at my age. And Im hardly one of those indomitable English women who can do everythingfix the roof, stop horses, brave burning buildings!
She stepped onto the porch, pulled the key from her handbag, and undid the heavy padlock.
***
For some reason, this house had been left to Mary by Great-Aunt Lily. A distant relation, rarely seen. Strange, but who can say how old peoples minds workGreat-Aunt Lily must have been well over a hundred. Mary was either her great-niece or maybe her cousin once removedeither way, shed long been the family cook and seamstress.
Mary had visited the cottage in Riddlecombe in her youth. Even then Aunt Lily had been elderly and fiercely independent, never asking family for help. And now, shed died.
When Mary got the call telling her that her great-aunt had passed, she didnt even remember at first who Lily was. Even less did she expect to inherit the cottage and a small patch of land.
A little present for your retirement! joked Marys husband, Michael.
A bit early for that, Mary scoffed, Im only fifty-four. By the time I get to sixty, the pension age will have moved again. So its just a gift, not a pension plan. Although, heaven knows why I deserve it. For years, I assumed Lily had long since gone to her grave. But who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth If Ive been left something, I might as well make use of it.
Or we could sell it on! Michael had said, rubbing his hands.
***
Good job they didnt sell it. Within a couple of months, a far less pleasant surprise hit. She discovered her precious Michael was having an affair. There it wasold enough to know better, but hed strayed all the sameShe found out at the worst possible momentjust as she unpacked her suitcase in the cottages chilly hallway, Michaels confession buzzing in her ear on the tinny line. Its not what you think, Mary. Well, maybe it is. Im so sorry. But we both know things have grown…stale. And then silence.
Mary sat down heavily on the little bench by the door, staring at the sun-faded wallpaper. For a long while, she listened to the silence of the cottage as it settled around her, as if weighing her up. She thought she would cry, but the tears didnt come. Overhead, a wasp rattled in a window pane, franticthen found its way out and was gone.
That first night, she lay awake in the unfamiliar bed, listening to the wind push softly against the old glass. If Michael were there, he would have complained about the damp, about the creaks and groans of the settling walls. She realized with quiet astonishment that she didnt miss him at all.
In the morning, Mary explored the garden. She discovered, half-hidden beneath brambles, a row of old rosebushes, bent and overgrown but stubbornly alive. She pruned them carefully, the way her grandmother had shown herthe slow snip of shears, leaves pricking her skin, the strong, earthy perfume of cut stems.
That afternoon, she found a battered notebook in the kitchen drawer, Lilys looping script filling every page with recipes, gardening tips, hushed gossip about neighbors, memories of mysterious visitors and old loves. Mary smiled, picturing her great-aunt baking bread entirely for herself, living on her own terms, the cottage as her sanctuary.
In the weeks that followed, Mary mended shutters, painted walls, learned how to coax vegetables from the hard soil behind the cottage. She let neighbors draw her into conversation at the gate, let silence become an old companion. In time, her hands grew capablefixing, weaving, growing. Sometimes at dusk, she sat by the window with a mug of tea and watched shadows stretch across the patch of earth that was now hers.
And when the roses bloomed, scarlet and defiant, Mary understood at last why Lily had left her this place. Not for the house, or even the landbut for the fierce, quiet joy of being your own salvation.
By autumn, the village no longer felt strange; she belonged. And sometimes Mary wondered if Lily watched from the wild hedges, approving, her eyes dancing. Mary would raise her teacup and give a little nodgrateful for the riddle that had become, finally, her answer.
