Olga Had Been Living Alone for Several Years in a Tiny House on the Outskirts of the Village, but When People Spoke About Her, She Couldn’t Help but Laugh at Their Remarks.

Olivia Harper has been living alone for several years in a modest cottage on the outskirts of the village of Littleford. Yet when anyone teases her about being on her own, she laughs and retorts, What? No, Im not alone at all I have a big family! The neighbouring farmers smile and nod, while some of the townsfolk roll their eyes behind her back, twirling a finger at their temple as if to say, Shes a bit daft, she calls a bunch of animals a family. Olivia, however, does not care about those whispers. In her view, a family can be made up of any creatures she keeps, not just a husband or children.

She has five cats and four dogs, and, contrary to the neighbors expectations, they all live inside the cottage rather than out in the yard where they belong. The locals keep their opinions to themselves, knowing that trying to reason with the eccentric is pointless; she simply chuckles and says, Oh, stop it, the street can wait were happy here together.

Five years ago, Olivias husband and teenage son were killed in a single tragic accident. They were returning from a fishing trip when a laden lorry swerved into the opposite lane on the M1 and collided with their car. After that day, Olivia cant stay in the flat where every room reminds her of her lost loved ones, nor can she walk the same streets and shop at the same stores without feeling the sting of sympathetic glances. Six months later she sells the flat, packs up her cat Misty, and moves to a small house on the edge of Littleford. In the summer she tends a garden; when winter arrives she finds work in the village community centres kitchen.

One by one, she brings her animals home. Some had been begging for scraps at the train station, others had wandered into the kitchen looking for leftovers. Thus her big family of kinspirited souls, all once alone and scarred, comes together under her roof. Olivias warm heart heals their hidden hurts, and they return that love in kind. There is enough love and warmth for everyone, and, though money is tight, there is enough food to keep them all fed.

Olivia knows she cant keep bringing stray animals home forever, and she repeatedly promises herself she will stop. In March, after a spell of sunny days, Februarys cold snaps back, laying a sharp snow over the lanes, sending late pedestrians scrambling home, and howling a bitter wind at night.

She hurries to catch the last evening coach, a sevenhour service that will take her back to Littleford. With two days of the weekend ahead, she stops after work to stock up on provisions for herself and her furry family, also picking up a few parcels from the community kitchen, so both of her arms are loaded with heavy bags.

Remembering her promise, Olivia tries not to look around, focusing on the pets waiting at home to warm her thoughts. But, as an old saying goes, the heart has eyes of its own, and it makes her pause just ten metres from the bus. A dog lies beneath a bench. Its stare is vacant, almost glassy, and its body is already dusted with snow. Passersby rush by, bundled in scarves and hoodies, yet no one seems to notice.

Olivias heart clenches painfully; she forgets the coach and her vow. She drops her bags, runs to the bench, and reaches for the dog. It blinks slowly.

Thank heavens youre alive! she exhales. Come on, sweetheart, get up, follow me

The dog doesnt move, but it doesnt resist either as Olivia lifts it from under the bench. It seems almost indifferent, as if ready to leave this harsh world.

She cant later recall how she manages to drag herself, two heavy bags, and the dog to the bus station building. Inside, she settles in the far corner of the waiting room, vigorously stroking the thin, shivering creature, warming its frostbitten paws in her hands.

Come on, love, pull yourself together. We still have a way to go home. Youll be our fifth dog that makes the numbers even, Olivia whispers.

She pulls a small meat patty from her bag and offers it. At first the dog turns its nose up, but after a little warming, it decides to stay, its eyes brightening, nostrils flaring, and it takes the bite.

An hour later, the coach has long since left. Olivia fashions a makeshift leash from her belt, though the dog, now named Molly, already follows her, pressed close to her legs.

Ten minutes later, much to her surprise, a car pulls over and a driver opens the door.

Oh, thank you! Dont worry, Ill seat the dog on my lap, she wont make a mess, Olivia chatters.

No problem, the driver replies. Let her sit on the seat, shes not that small anyway.

Molly cuddles against Olivia, still trembling, and somehow fits on her lap.

Its warmer this way, Olivia smiles.

The driver nods, glances at the makeshift collar, and turns up the heater. They drive in silence, Olivia holding the nowcozy Molly, watching the snowfall flash past the headlights.

The driver steals occasional glances at Olivias calm profile, the woman clutching the rescued dog. He realises shes taking the animal home. She looks a little tired, but content and happy.

He drops them off at her cottage and steps out to help with the bags. The snow is piled high, and the old gate is stuck; the rusted hinges give way, and the gate collapses onto its side.

Never mind that, Olivia sighs. Its about time I repaired it.

From inside the house comes a chorus of barking and meowing. Olivia hurries to the door, swings it open, and her entire pack pours out into the yard.

Well, look whos finally back! Im here, Im not going anywhere! Meet the newest member, she announces, laughing.

Molly peeks shyly from behind Olivias legs. The other dogs wag their tails, sniffing at the bags the driver still holds.

Oh, dont just stand there, Olivia says, Come inside if youre not scared of our big family. Want some tea?

The driver carries the bags inside but declines to enter.

Its getting late, Ill be on my way. You feed them, theyve been waiting for you, he says.

The next afternoon, a knock sounds on the cottage wall. Olivia throws on her coat and finds the driver from yesterday kneeling by the broken gate, tools spread out, new hinges in hand.

Good afternoon! I broke your gate yesterday, so I came to fix it, he says, introducing himself. Im Victor, and you are?

Olivia, she replies.

The tailwagging family sniffs at the newcomer, curious. He crouches, petting them gently.

Olivia, dont dawdlego inside. Ill be done soon, and I wont turn down a cup of tea. Theres also a slice of cake in the car and a few treats for your big family.

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Olga Had Been Living Alone for Several Years in a Tiny House on the Outskirts of the Village, but When People Spoke About Her, She Couldn’t Help but Laugh at Their Remarks.
You Just Wanted to Control Me – So, changed your mind about the divorce? Crawling back already? Irina smirked, pressing the phone to her ear. Outside, the December sky was turning grey, and in the courtyard below, children were already shouting, sliding on their sleds. – Don’t hold your breath, Anton. I’m calling for something else. A pause hung on the other end. Irina pictured her husband frowning, trying to figure out why she’d called at all. Since she’d left three months ago, taking Sveta with her, they’d only spoken about practicalities. Divorce, splitting assets, child support. Dry, businesslike. No unnecessary words. – New Year’s is coming, – Irina said, keeping her tone cold and factual. – Sveta wants the Christmas tree. – So buy one. – She wants the same one. From last year. With the built-in lights. Remember? You put it in the garage. Anton was silent. Irina could hear him breathing, and the silence felt wrong. Calculated. She knew this trick of his – hold the pause until the other person gets nervous, fidgets, starts to justify themselves. Irina stayed silent in return. – I’ll give it to you, – Anton finally said. – On one condition. – What condition? – We spend New Year’s together. You, me, and Sveta. Like a family. Irina pulled the phone away and checked the screen. Made sure it really was Anton’s number, that she hadn’t misheard. – Not happening. – Then no tree. Irina hung up. Threw the phone on the sofa. Walked to the window and pressed her forehead to the cold glass, closing her eyes. Three months. Three months she’d been clawing her way out of this swamp. And now, over a plastic Christmas tree, he was trying to worm his way back into her life. No. Not this time… The café buzzed with customers. Irina sat across from Masha, her friend since school, warming her hands on a big mug of cappuccino. Outside, snow was falling, passersby wrapped in scarves, and somewhere in the background, soft jazz and holiday tunes played. – Forget about that tree, – Masha broke off a piece of strudel. – Buy a new one. Every supermarket’s full of them. Irina sighed. – The kid wants that one. Every night Sveta asks, “Mum, when will we put up our tree? The one that lights up by itself?” And she looks at me with those eyes… Masha shook her head sympathetically. – So you called Anton for this? – Had to swallow my pride. – Irina grimaced, as if she’d bitten a lemon. – Do you know how humiliating it is? Asking for something from a man you never want to see again? – I can imagine. – Masha reached across the table and covered Irina’s hand with hers. – He was always a piece of work. Remember your birthday… – When he made a scene because Dima from accounting hugged me? – Yeah. Yelled at you the whole way home. Irina sipped her coffee. The bitterness was oddly soothing. – You know, I put up with it for eight years. Eight years, Masha. Constant control, checking up on me. Where I went, who I talked to, why I didn’t reply to a message in three seconds. He counted every penny, questioned every purchase. “Why do you need that dress? Where are you going?” – And after all that, he still cheated, – Masha added quietly. Irina nodded. Her throat tightened for a moment, but she held it together. Not here. Not now. She’d cried enough in the first weeks after finding his messages. – The funniest thing, – Irina said, – is that he still thinks he’s the victim. “You didn’t appreciate me, so I looked for warmth elsewhere.” Can you believe it? Masha snorted. – Classic. All cheaters say that. You did the right thing leaving. Most women in your place… – Most would have stayed. For the child. For stability. To avoid admitting defeat. – Irina twisted a napkin in her fingers. – But I couldn’t anymore. I just couldn’t. The snow outside was falling harder. There was still time before New Year’s. And somewhere in a garage on the other side of Moscow stood a plastic tree with built-in lights – the only thing five-year-old Sveta had asked for. Irina watched the snow and thought about how a mother’s love means doing the impossible. Even talking to someone you wish would disappear from your life forever. Sveta sat on the living room rug, surrounded by crayons and paper. She was drawing a tree. A green triangle, a star on top, and yellow and orange dots all around. The lights. – Mum, when will our tree come?