Young woman Lucy Whitmore lay in the hospital. First, shed had her appendix removed, but then something went wrongthere was a bit of inflammation and complications, so they kept her in. Not that she had anywhere to rush off to, really. She was on sick leave, so work could wait. Back at the textile factory dormitory where she lived, her roommate Lily would be thrilled to have the place to herself a while longermeant her sweetheart, Peter, could stay over till morning without any fuss.
Lucy herself didnt have a beau. She wasnt a stunner like fair-haired Lilyquiet, reserved, maybe too much for twenty-six. Life just hadnt fallen into place. Lily would marry soon, and then theyd stick someone new in the room. Housing was tight at the factorynever enough, but they always needed workers.
These were the thoughts circling Lucys mind as she stared out at the blue sky, glancing now and then at her elderly ward-mate, Edith Thompson. Edith slept most of the time, but when awake, theyd chat idly, sharing bits of their lives. Lucy confessed how alone she wasparents gone, older brother drank away everything, even the family home, and now he was serving time for theft.
“Just me, Aunt Edith,” Lucy sighed.
“No husband, then?” Edith studied her. “Never?”
“Never. Like I saidjust me. Only friend Ive got is getting married soon. What about you? Family?”
“Oh, plenty!” Edith said proudly. “No blood kin, but my lads are always round. Fix things, paint, tidy upwhatevers needed.”
Then she told a story that left Lucy puzzled. Edith lived in an old house on the citys edgeher parents place. Husband long gone, no children. But shed always longed for kids, so she took in the neighbourhood boys.
“Baked scones or pasties, called em all in. Theyd come running, five or six of em round the table, wolfing it down. Their parents were always at the factory, seelong shifts. Left to themselves otherwise.”
“Your husband didnt mind?”
“Well, he grumbled. But the boys fetched water, stacked firewoodsaved him the heavy work, so he put up with it.”
“Those same boys still visit? Help out?”
“Course they do! Bring their own kids now. Some just pop by. Gives me such joy. Always keep scones ready. Theyve visited me here, actually.”
Lucy vaguely remembered visitorsbut shed been too wrapped up in herself to notice.
“I havent got long, love,” Edith said suddenly. “Theres two ladsTommy and Billy. Not exactly orphans, but close. Ones with his mum, the other his dadboth working double shifts at the factory. Boys fend for themselves.”
“You feed them?” Lucy asked.
“More than that. They do homework here, help out. Otherwise, the streetsd have em. Breaks my heart.”
Two days later, two boysTommy and Billyburst into the ward, followed by their parents: a sturdy, limping man and a woman worn thin from work and sleepless nights. Lucy, now able to walk, slipped out to give them privacy.
When she returned, Edith was asleep, a bag of fruit, biscuits, and a bottle of custard on the nightstand. Lucy watched her, wondering how shed had the strength all these years to care for others children. Could she ever do the same? Then she remembered another boyDanny, a scamp whose parents drank so hard he sometimes slept rough. Edith took him in. His dad once stormed over, shouting she was spoiling the boy, forbidding her to “tame” him.
“What could I do?” Edith had said. “Hed still sneak over, eat, help. Once fixed a shelf that fell. Swept up when my back gave out. Said he didnt come for foodjust to help.” Shed paused. “Boys feel things deeper than some grown-ups. Not greedy, not hard. Just lonely.”
Lucy was nearly ready for discharge, but Edith grew weaker, fretting over “her” boys. Then a visitor camea smart, well-dressed bloke with a briefcase. Lucy moved to leave, but Edith stopped her.
“This is my Williampractically raised him. Meet Lucy.”
Lucy mumbled hello, then fled. William was handsome. And here she waspale, gaunt, hair a mess, swimming in a hospital gown. He stayed ages. When he left, he hugged Edith, then paused by Lucys bed.
“Pleasure meeting you,” he said. “Get wellIll come again.”
Gone before she could reply. He returned next day, left juice by her bed. Edith slept through his visit. He left teary-eyed, asking Lucy to pass on his love.
That evening, Edith refused supper. Lucy held her hand.
“Listen close, love,” Edith whispered. “Williams a solicitor. Last visit, I had him draw up the house papers for you. Took your ID from the drawersorry. Live there. Its no palace, but its yours. Just promiselook after the boys.”
Lucy froze.
“Well? Only three leftTommy, Billy, Danny. Need watching, or the streetsll take em, like your brother. Promise?”
Lucy burst into tears. “I wont leave them. Just… stay with us awhile.”
But Edith was asleep, a faint smile on her tired face.
William collected Lucy when she was dischargedtwo days after Ediths passing. He stood grim at the hospital doors. She felt no joy, despite leaving.
They buried Edith together with her friends. Then came the legal workWilliam helped. Soon, Lucy moved into the house, this unexpected gift.
But the boys didnt come. William visited, though. She asked him to bring them. One evening, he did.
After that, they were regulars. But how to keep her promise when she worked all day? Still, evenings were often theirsespecially rainy autumn ones. She brought pancakes from the canteensome with jam, some with mince. They ate, watched telly, played Monopoly, then dashed home, buzzing. All lived close by.
William dropped in sometimes. Hed helped her arrange the house tax paymentsmodest, thankfully. Her gratitude warmed into something tender. He didnt reciprocate yetjust stayed a friend.
Oddly, Dannys dad came bynot to shout, as hed done at Edith, but to thank her for minding his boy.
“Dont spoil him, mind. Dont want him taking advantage,” he said sternly, but not unkindly.
***
So this was her new life. A home of her own, different faces round her. Lily married her Peterthey visited once, with Peters mate in tow. Lucy barely noticed the stranger. Her heart was elsewhere. Unrequited, but hope flickered.
And she remembered Edith. Every corner of that warm house spoke of her. Lucy wanted, just a little, to be like her. So she kept her memory brightthis good, simple woman whod left not just a house, but a legacy of kindness Lucy now longed to pass on.
