“Who are you here for?” Margaret Whitaker stepped onto the porch with Nicholas, both peering curiously at their unexpected guest.
“I’m here for Margaret Whitaker! I’m her granddaughterwell, great-granddaughter, actually. Im the granddaughter of Alexander, her eldest son.”
Margaret sat on the sunlit bench, soaking in the first warm days of spring. At last, winter had passed. Only God knew how shed endured it this year.
“One more winter like that, and I wont make it,” she thought, exhaling in relief. She wasnt afraid of dyingin fact, shed been waiting. Her savings were ready, her funeral clothes bought. Nothing really tied her to this world anymore.
***
Once, shed had a big familyher husband, Frederick Whitaker, a tall, strong man, and their four children: three boys and one girl. Theyd lived happily, helping each other, rarely arguing. But one by one, the children grew up and scattered.
The two eldest sons went off to university, then moved to different cities for work. The middle boy had struggled in school but later built a successful business that took him abroad, where he stayed. The daughter didnt linger in their village eithershe flew off to London and soon married.
At first, the children visited often. They wrote letters, then switched to phone calls once mobiles became common. Grandchildren came along, and Margaret would pack her old, battered suitcase to visit them, helping out as a nanny.
But eventually, the grandchildren outgrew her care. Calls became fewer, visits rarer. Soon, the idea of coming home at all seemed forgottentoo busy with work, families, their own growing children.
The only time they all returned was when Frederick passed. Hed seemed so strong, like hed live to a hundred, but life had other plans.
After the funeral, the children drifted away again. At first, they called their mother, but the calls tapered off. Margaret tried ringing them herself but quickly sensed she was an afterthought. She let it go.
And so, for the last ten years, shed lived alone. Once a year, maybe, one of them would remember herthose were the weeks she carried a quiet smile.
***
One day, as Margaret sat on her bench lost in thought, a voice interrupted her.
“Hello, Aunt Margaret!” A young man stood at the gate, grinning. “Dont you recognise me?”
She squinted.
“Nicholas? Is that you?”
“It is!” He beamed, stepping into the yard.
Nicholas had been the neighbours boya child who never seemed to get enough to eat. His parents were always rowdy, always drinking. Margaret had fed him, given him clothes her own children had outgrown, let him sleep over when his parents shouting got too loud.
Eventually, his parents drank themselves to an early grave. Nicholas was taken away, and Margaret hadnt seen him sinceuntil now.
“Whereve you been all this time?” she asked, delighted.
“Childrens home, then the army, then I studied. Now Im backgonna help rebuild our village!”
“Whats left to rebuild?” Margaret sighed. “Everyones gone.”
“Doesnt matter. I wont let it die.”
And just like that, Margarets lonely life brightened. Nicholas found work at old Mr. Higgins farmthe biggest in the area. In his spare time, he fixed up his parents crumbling cottage and helped Margaret around the house. She doted on him, calling him “my boy.” They spent three good years like that.
Then one day, Nicholas said, “Ive got to leave, Aunt Margaret. Higgins wont pay proper wages anymore. Im heading north for work. Dont be cross with me.”
“Cross? Of course not. Go, and God bless you.”
Alone again, Margaret sometimes wanted to cry from the silence. She resigned herself to waiting out her days.
***
“Hello, Aunt Margaret!” A familiar voice rang out. She turned to see a tall, well-dressed young man at the gate.
“Nicholas! Is it really you?”
“It is!” He strode into the yard. “Im back for good!”
“Oh, what joy!” She fussed over him. “Come in, come in! Ill put the kettle on!”
“Tea sounds perfect,” he laughed. “Let me just pop home firstdidnt know Id find you here or Id have brought something!”
Half an hour later, they sat at the table, sipping tea from fine old china, talking nonstop.
“Id been ready to go, Nicholas,” Margaret admitted, wiping her eyes.
“Dont even think about it!” He wagged a finger playfully. “Were going to live grandly now. Ive saved upstarting my own farm. Youve got years left in you!”
***
“Hello? Anyone home?” A bright voice cut through their peace. Margaret peered out to see a young woman in a chic coat and heels standing in the yard.
“Who are you here for?” she and Nicholas stepped onto the porch.
“Im here for Margaret Whitaker! Im her great-granddaughterAlexanders granddaughter. I tried calling, but your phone was off, so I came on a whim!”
Margaret blinked. “Well, come in then!”
As the girlEmilyate the treats Margaret set out, she explained, “I hate the city. Wanted to try village life. Granddad suggested I stay with you a few monthssaid if I lasted, Id never want to leave. Dad called, Granddad called, I calledno answer. Sorry to barge in, but I wont be a burden. Ive got money, and Ive brought gifts!”
“Stay as long as you like,” Margaret said warmly.
***
A month later, Margaret watched from her bench as Emily expertly tended the garden. With Nicholas help, theyd replanted the long-neglected plot, built a greenhouse, and filled it with seedlings.
Nicholas, meanwhile, used his savings to start a modern farm, hiring workers to fix Margarets roof and install central heating.
Margaret was happyuntil she remembered Emily would leave soon. Shed grown so fond of her.
“How will I manage this garden alone?” she fretted, packing Emily pies for the journey.
“Just keep the water barrel full. Nicholas will handle the rest! And Ill be back to weed!” Emily grinned.
“Youre coming back?”
“Of course! I cant stay away. I love it here. Besides” She flushed. “Nicholas proposed. Weddings in autumn! Cant leave my country boy, can I?”
***
A year later, Margaret rocked a pram in the sunshine, her great-great-grandson sleeping soundly. Emily and Nicholas were at the farm, thrivingand so was the whole village because of them.
Margaret looked down at the baby and smiled.
“No passing on just yet. These children still need me.”
