Daisy, dont think the worst of me! the old man pressed his trembling hands together. Im not a tramp. Im Arthur Whitaker. I came to see my daughter. Its hard to say.
The clock ticked down the final hours to midnight. The office had long emptied, but Emma was still there, alone in the quiet.
She had decided to finish the shift early on New Years Eve, so she could get home in time. In the fridge waited a couple of salads, a bowl of fruit and a bottle of sparkling water, all prepared in advance. She longed to slip out of her heels and into a soft nightgown, to shed the coat shed worn all day for nothing.
A few months earlier she and Andrew had split, a breakup so painful that Emma had shied away from new relationships. Now she was comfortable being on her own. Andrew had called repeatedly, begging for another chance, but Emma refused. Were not a match, she thought. Its too complicated. She didnt want to think of him at all; this was supposed to be a celebration, not a reminder of the past.
She stepped off the minibus and only a few paces remained before her flat. By the entrance, on a bench, an elderly man sat beside a modest Christmas tree. Probably visiting someone, she mused, greeting him with a nod. He returned the gesture without meeting her eyes.
For a split second Emma thought she saw tears glint in his gaze, or perhaps it was just the reflection of the streetlights. She brushed it off and hurried inside. The night was biting cold; she shivered as she turned on the shower, slipped into her favourite fluffy nightgown, poured a mug of tea and moved to the window.
Oddly, the old man was still on the bench. An hour had passed since she arrived home, and there were only two hours left until midnight. If he had come to visit, why was he sitting outside? And why did his eyes sparkle so strangely? Emma set the table, switched on the fairy lights on her tree, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the solitary figure.
Half an hour later she peeked out again; he was still there, unmoving. Maybe hes unwell, she wondered, or just freezing.
She wrapped a coat around herself and stepped outside. Sitting beside him, she startled him with a gentle voice. Excuse me, are you alright? I noticed youve been sitting here for a long time. Its freezing out. Can I help you with anything?
He sighed, a weary breath. Nothing, child! Im fine, just sitting a spell before I head to the station and then home.
Where to? Emma asked.
To the railway, then back to my flat.
It isnt right, you shouldnt be out here in this cold. Please, come in. Warm up, then you can go wherever you need.
But
No buts! Come on, he said, his voice firm despite his frailty.
Emma imagined her friend Sophie seeing her now, eyes wide with shock, but Sophie wasnt there, and she couldnt leave the man shivering.
He rose slowly, eyes flicking to the tree. May I take that?
Sure, take it, Emma replied, easing his grasp.
Inside, Arthur set the little tree in the hallway, shedding his coat layer by layer, each movement a reminder of his chill. He trudged to the kitchen, where Emma poured tea. He cupped the mug, warming his hands, then looked up.
Daisy, dont think the worst of me! Im not a tramp. Im Arthur Whitaker. I came to see my daughter. Its hard to say. He began to speak of his life, of a marriage that had ended years ago, of a lover hed left his wife for, of a daughter who was now five when he first met her. He told how hed tried to help, how his exwife, Laura, had refused any support, even child maintenance, determined to raise Lucy alone. Hed tried to send money, but it always bounced back. Hed moved back to the town after his parents died, bought a modest cottage on the outskirts, yet never managed to build a family of his own again.
Two years earlier his partner, Marie, had died, leaving him solitary. Hed driven to his daughters flat, bought a tiny tree, and stood at her doorstep, only to be turned away. Why did I come? What was I hoping for? he whispered. I have a house, a decent pension, I could help her if she wanted. All because Laura never let me be part of Lucys life.
He confessed hed been wandering, ending up on a bench, frozen in place, until fateperhaps a stray kindnessbrought Emma to him.
Where will you go tonight? he asked, eyes flickering to the clock.
The bus wont run until morning, and itll be half past midnight before the new year. Stay a while. Ill put a spare blanket on the couch, you can rest, and in the morning you can catch a coach home.
Arthur looked at Emma, a hint of relief softening his lines. Its uncomfortable having a stranger in my house, but Im grateful. If youd let me, I could stay until sunrise.
Agreed, Emma said, smiling despite the chill.
At dawn Arthur gathered his things. Thank you, Emma. Youre an angel, pulling me back from a foolish idea of staying on that bench forever.
Youre welcome, Arthur. If you ever want to visit, youre always welcome. My place isnt farjust a short drive. I have a small apiary, five hives behind the house, and a beautiful garden in summer. Apples, pears, the works. In winter theres a river nearby, perfect for a walk. Come and rest.
Will do, Arthur Whitaker. Ill be there, Emma promised.
She watched him disappear around the corner, the thin veil of winter light swallowing his figure. The world felt oddly balanced now, as if strangers could become family in an instant.
Emma had lost both parents early and, after hearing the old mans sorrowful story, vowed to visit him again. She turned back to the window, the empty street glimmering with festive lights, and felt the quiet promise of a new beginning.
