Young woman Lucy Prescott lay in the hospital. First, shed had her appendix out, then something went wronga bit of inflammation, a few complicationsso they kept her in. Not that she was in any hurry. She was on sick leave, after all, so work could wait. Back at the textile factorys dormitory where she lived, her roommate Daisy would be thrilled to have the place to herself a while longer, with her sweetheart Pete free to visit undisturbed, even till morning.
Lucy, on the other hand, had no admirer. She wasnt a stunner like golden-haired Daisyjust quiet, shy, perhaps too much so for her twenty-six years. Life hadnt quite fallen into place. Daisy would soon marry, and then theyd stick Lucy with another stranger. Housing was dreadful at the factorynever enough, yet always more workers needed.
These were the thoughts drifting through Lucys mind as she gazed at the blue sky outside and glanced at her elderly ward-mate, Edith Whitaker. Edith mostly slept, but when awake, theyd chat leisurely, swapping stories. Lucy shared how shed ended up alone: parents gone, older brother drinking away the family home before landing in prison for theft.
«Just me left, Aunt Edith,» Lucy sighed.
«No husband, then?» Edith asked, studying her. «Never?»
«Never. Like I saidalone. Only friend Ive got is Daisy, and shes getting married soon. What about you? Family?»
«Oh yes,» Edith said proudly. «No blood relatives, but my boys are always round. Fix things, paint, tidy upwhatevers needed.»
What followed left Lucy bemused. Edith lived in an old house on the citys outskirts, left by her parents. Her husband had passed long ago; no children. But aching for kids of her own, shed taken in the neighbourhood lads.
«Id bake scones or pasties, call them over,» she said. «Five or six would pile round the table, devouring everything. Their parents were always at the factory nearby, so the boys fended for themselves.»
«Your husband didnt mind?»
«Oh, he grumbled. But theyd fetch water, stack firewoodsaved him the heavy work, so he put up with it.»
«And now? All grown up? Still visit?»
«Course they do!» Edith beamed. «Bring their kids, even. Some pop by on their own. Still love my scones. Theyve visited me here too.»
Lucy recalled a couple of visitors but had been too poorly to pay attention.
«Not much time left for me, love,» Edith murmured suddenly. «But there are two ladsTommy and Billy. Not exactly orphans, but close. Ones with his mum, the other his dad. Parents work double shifts, so the boys roam free.»
«You feed them?» Lucy blinked.
«More than that. They do homework here, help out. Otherwise, the streets wouldve swallowed em. Breaks my heart.»
Two days later, Edith had visitors. Two boys, about ten, burst inTom and Billfollowed by their parents: a sturdy, limping man and a woman hollow-eyed from exhaustion. Lucy, now mobile, slipped out to give them privacy.
Returning later, she found Edith asleep, a bag of fruit, biscuits, and a bottle of milk left on the bedside table. Staring at the old woman, Lucy wondered where shed found the energy all these years to feed strangers kids. Could she ever do the same? Then she remembered another ladreckless Danny, whose parents drank so hard he sometimes slept rough till Edith took him in.
His dad had once stormed over, yelling she was spoiling the boy, forbidding her to «tame» him.
«But what could I do?» Edith had sighed. «Hed turn up, eat, helpfixed a shelf once when my back gave out. Said he came not for food, but to help.»
Shed added softly, «Boys feel more than some grown-ups. Not greedy, not hardjust lonely, left to themselves.»
As Lucy neared discharge, Edith grew weaker, fretting over «her boys.» Then another visitor arrived: a smart, handsome bloke with a briefcase. Lucy moved to leave, but Edith stopped her.
«Lucy, this is my Edwardpractically raised him. Say hello.»
Lucy mumbled her name and fled. Edward was lovely; she was pale, thin, hair a mess, drowning in a grey hospital gown.
He stayed ages. Lucy pretended to read but caught his glances, flushing each time. Leaving, Edward hugged Edith, then paused by Lucys bed.
«Pleasure meeting you,» he said. «Get wellIll visit again.»
Gone before she could reply, he returned next day, leaving juice by her bed. Edith slept through his visit; he left tearfully, asking Lucy to pass on his love.
That evening, Edith refused dinner, clutching Lucys hand.
«Listen close, love,» she whispered. «Edwards a solicitor. Last visit, I signed the house over to youtook your passport from the drawer, sorry. Its no palace, but better than a dorm. One condition: dont abandon the boys.»
Lucy froze.
«Promise, Lucy? Just three leftTom, Bill, and Danny. They need watching, or the streetsll take em like your brother. Promise?»
Lucy wept. «I wont leave them. But you must stay longer.»
Edith was already asleep, a faint smile on her worn face.
Edward collected Lucy after dischargetwo days after Ediths passing, which shed spent crying. He waited glumly by the entrance. Despite freedom, her heart was heavy.
They buried Edith with her «family.» Edward helped with the legalities, and soon Lucy moved into the househers now, by some miracle.
But the boys didnt come. Edward visited often, though, and at her request, brought them round one evening. After that, they were regulars, especially on rainy autumn nights. She brought them pancakes from the canteensometimes cheese, sometimes meat. They ate hungrily, watched telly, played Monopoly, then dashed home cheerful.
Edward helped Lucy arrange a low-cost payment plan for the house taxes. Her gratitude bloomed into affection, though he remained just a friend. Oddly, Dannys dad thanked her for looking after his son, warning only, «Dont spoil him, mind.»
***
So began her new life: a home, a fresh circle. Daisy married Pete; they visited once with his friend, but Lucy barely noticed. Her heart was elsewhereunrequited, but hopeful.
And everywhere in that warm house, Ediths presence lingered. Lucy ached to be even a little like her, guarding the memory of that kind, ordinary woman whod left not just a house, but a legacy of kindness Lucy now longed to pass on.
