When I was a lad, my grandmother Margaret had a disturbing dream. In it her late mother kept offering her pies, saying, Eat, my dear. Margaret kept eating, but she could never feel full. She woke up shaking, terrified. If the dead feed you in a dream, it must mean your own time is running short. I turned on the old desktop, searched the forums, and found a thread where a Buddhist monk warned that no more than two weeks remained. It seemed absurd, but the thought lodged itself in Margarets mind.
She didnt want to leave; the world still held a strange beauty even in her twilight years. Everyone will make it there eventually, she muttered, and we might have a few more years to enjoy. The weight of the thought pressed down on her like a stone, and she felt life had whizzed past in a blink.
Then she decided she must be brave and accept what might come. She tore up the old family photographs, thinking theyd end up in the bin anywayno one needed proof of a life long gone. The sun was shining, so she thought perhaps a walk would chase the gloom away. She dressed, stepped out onto the communal garden, and heard a baby crying from the flat next door.
Every creak and sigh traveled through the thin walls of the council block. What could be upsetting that little one so much? Margaret wondered, standing by the hallway. Behind the landlords door lived a young couple in a rented flat. Their daughter was about four, and the mother was pregnant with a second child.
The little girl wailed, and no one seemed to soothe her. Something must have gone terribly wrong. Margaret knocked, and a pallid man opened the door. His face was ashen, like a corpse being laid in a coffin. He stammered, The labour started and they took my wife away. She nearly died giving birth to Olivia. She said she wouldnt survive. I walked her to the car and she said goodbye to me. He was on the brink of tears.
They were ushered straight into Margarets kitchen. First, the baby needed calming, so Margaret poured a glass of berry squash. Do you see the little berries drawn on the glass? See them swimming inside? Thats a good sign. Drink, love. She didnt explain why it was good, but Olivia seemed to settle, eyes darting about at the unfamiliar surroundings.
Her father, Thomas, was also in the kitchen. He perched on a chair, frozen. Margaret took the little girls hand and said, Come on, Ill show you how we live. They walked through the flat. Thomas followed, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Margaret pointed to a portrait on the wall. Thats my grandfather. He served in the army during the war. Olivia examined the strangers face, while Thomas glanced at the picture with a mix of interest and awe.
They stopped at a shelf crowded with porcelain figuresa squirrel, a rabbit, a swan, and a few tiny birds. Olivia picked up the squirrel and handed it to her dad, who turned it over and placed it back. Beautiful, he said. Youll play with it later. The little tour ended, and the landlord offered them a bite to eat. All three returned to the kitchen, sat down, and Thomas realised they hadnt washed their hands.
Margaret heated up a pot of chicken soup. The guests were famished; Thomas barely managed a spoonful before Margaret added more. The sun was setting, and Thomas felt reluctant to go homethere was an uneasy feeling there, whereas the neighbours flat felt almost like a second home. He noticed the water draining poorly in the bathroom. Probably a clog, he said, fetching his toolbox from his flat.
He spent ages fixing the drain, phone glued to his ear, while night fell outside. Olivia, now sleepy, nibbled at the edge of a biscuit. Margaret gave her a warm mug of milk and tucked her onto the spare sofa. Thomas sat quietly at the kitchen table, listening to her breathing slow.
When Olivia finally drifted off, Thomas turned to Margaret and asked, May I stay the night here? She guessed he found his own flat too bleak and consented. He fetched a folding cot, and they all settled, whispering soft confessions. Thomas spoke of his wonderful wife and how deeply he loved her.
Soon it was bedtime. Margaret kissed Thomas goodnight, calling him son in a tender tone, and a warm glow lit his eyes. He felt a surge of youthful vigor, as if his own mother were still alive beside him. The years stretched far behind them, but the feeling was real.
The monks warning seemed a misinterpretation; being fed in a dream just meant youd do a good deed for someone. The next morning, a phone rang, jolting everyone awake. Within half a minute, Thomas shouted with joy, Olivia, youve got a baby sister! Hooray! While breakfast was being prepared, he ran to fetch a cake. The whole day, father and daughter spent time at Margarets flat, feeling like family reunited. They stayed over, free of fear or anxiety.
The following day Thomas went to work, and for some reason Olivia wasnt taken to nursery; Margaret took her for a stroll in the nearby park, a short walk from the block. Later, they were joined by Thomass mother and the newborn granddaughter. More happy duties fell upon Margarets shoulders, and she welcomed them all with a heart full of English tea, scones, and the comforting hum of a household finally at peace.
