Olivia had lived alone for years in a modest cottage on the edge of a sleepy Norfolk hamlet. Yet whenever someone remarked that she was solitary, she would laugh and retort, Me? Not at allmy family is huge! The villages gossipy ladies would smile and nod, but behind Olivias back they would exchange a knowing glance, rolling a finger to their temples as if to say, Shes a lonely old crone, yet she claims a whole clan.
Olivia called that clan the wild beasts she kept. She paid no heed to the neighbours expectations that a proper household should have, at most, a dog for guarding and a cat for hunting mice. Her menagerie consisted of five cats and four dogs, all of whom, absurdly enough, lived inside the house rather than out in the yard, as the locals whispered. They knew arguing with her was futile; she would simply chuckle, Enough of the streets, lets stay cosy together.
Five years earlier, a tragic accident had stolen both her husband and her teenage son in a single breath. They had been returning from a fishing trip when a lorry barreled into the oncoming traffic on the A47. Recovering from that shock, Olivia realised she could not remain in the flat that echoed with memories of her loved ones, nor walk the same lanes and shop at the same corner store. The sympathetic eyes of the neighbours only deepened her resolve.
Six months later she sold the flat, packed up her cat Duchess, and moved to the countryside, buying a small house on the fringe of the hamlet. Summer found her tending a garden; when winter arrived, she took a job in the community centres canteen. Over time she brought each of her animals homesome had begged at the railway station, others had wandered into the canteen looking for scraps. Thus a ragtag family of kindred souls, each once alone and bruised, gathered around her. Olivias gentle heart mended their wounds, and in return they gave her boundless love and warmth. Food was never abundant, but it was never absent.
She reminded herself often that she could not keep rescuing creatures forever. No more, she promised, until Ive had enough. Yet in March, after a brief spell of sunshine, Februarys fierce cold returned, blanketing the fields in sharp snow and howling cruel winds through the night.
Olivia hurried to catch the last evening busa sevenhour ride back to her hamlet. With two days of weekend ahead, she slipped into the shop after work, loading bags of provisions for herself and her furry family, tucking a few leftovers from the canteen into her arms. Her hands trembled under the weight. She tried to keep her promise in mind, focusing on the pets waiting at home, letting the thought of them warm her.
But a proverb rang true: The heart sees what the eyes cannot. Mere ten metres from the bus stop, a whimper halted her. Beneath a bench lay a dog, its eyes vacant, its fur dusted thick with snow. Passersby hurried by, wrapped in scarves and hoods, oblivious. Olivias heart clenched painfully. She dropped her bags, rushed to the animal and reached out. The dog blinked slowly.
Thank heavens youre alive! she breathed. Come on, sweetheart, get up, follow me. The dog did not move, yet it did not fight as she lifted it from beneath the bench. It seemed resigned, ready to leave the cruel world behind.
She could scarcely remember how she managed to trudge to the bus station with two heavy sacks and the shivering dog cradled in her arms. Inside the waiting hall she curled into the far corner, gently stroking the thin creature, warming its frostbitten paws with her palms.
Come on, love, pull yourself togetherwe still have a way home. Youll be the fifth dog in our pack, nice and even, she murmured, pulling a meatball from her bag. At first the dog turned away, but after a moments warmth its nose twitched, its eyes brightened, and it accepted the offering.
An hour later the bus had long since vanished. Olivia fashioned a makeshift leash from her belt, though the dognow christened Millystuck close to her feet as if already tethered. Ten minutes later, a stalled car pulled over. The driver, a middleaged man with a tired smile, opened the door.
Thanks, love! Dont worry, Ill put the dog on my lapshe wont make a mess, Olivia stammered.
Dont bother, the driver replied. Let her sit on the seat; shes not a lap dog anyway. Yet Milly curled against Olivia, trembling, and somehow fit on her lap.
Just it keeps us both warmer, Olivia said, smiling weakly. The driver nodded, glanced at the improvised collar around Millys neck, and turned up the heater. They drove in silence, the headlights catching snowflakes that glittered like shattered glass. The driver stole glances at Olivias profile, a weary yet serene figure clutching her rescued companion.
The car finally stopped at Olivias cottage. He stepped out, helped her with the bags, and gave the sagging gate a firm shove. The rusted hinges gave way, the gate collapsing onto its side.
Dont mind that, Olivia sighed. Its been due for repair. From within the house came a chorus of barking and meowing. She hurried to the doorway, flinging it open, and her assembled family spilled into the yard.
Well, look who finally came back, she cried, laughing. Im not disappearing on you! Meet the newest member Milly peeked shyly from behind her legs. The other dogs wagged their tails, nosing the bags the driver still held.
Come on in, if youre not scared of our big brood, Olivia called. Tea, perhaps? The driver set the bags down but hesitated.
It’s late; Im off. Youll have to feed them yourself, he said, climbing back into his car.
The next afternoon, a muffled thump echoed from the yard. Olivia pulled on her coat and stepped outside to find the driver from yesterday, kneeling by the broken gate, tools spread out, new hinges in hand.
Good afternoon, he said, wiping his hands. Im Vladimir, by the way. Im fixing the gate I broke yesterday. He looked up at her.
Olivia, she replied, smiling. The tailwagging clan sniffed him eagerly, nuzzling his calves as he crouched to pet them.
Dont be shy, come inside. Ill be done soon, and I could use a cuppa. Theres even a slice of cake in the car, plus a few treats for your big family. Vladimir smiled, a quiet, tired sort of smile, but one that reached his eyes. Tea sounds lovely, he said, standing slowly, brushing sawdust from his knees. Inside, the animals settled around themMilly now on the rug, curled beside the warm stove, the others claiming their usual spots near feet and chairs. They sipped tea in comfortable silence, steam rising like whispers into the lamplight. Outside, the snow began to fall again, soft and steady, blanketing the broken gate, the garden path, the world beyond the window. But within the cottage, fire crackled, kettles hummed, and for the first time in years, the word *family* settled not as defiance, but as truth.
