**Margaret**
In the village, they said shed gone a bit funny in her old age. Most avoided her cottage, calling her a witchbut the way she silenced the gossips is still talked about to this day.
At first glance, Margaret was just another elderly country womaneccentric, perhaps, but kind-hearted. She helped those in need, even on her meagre pension, and took in lost travellers. The wealthier villagers (and it was a prosperous place) rarely let strangers past their gatesthey might fetch a cup of well water, but never offer shelter for the night.
Margaret was different. Shed feed any wanderer, serve them humble fare, and give them a bed if darkness fell. Some called her daft for itletting strangers in, especially with a young woman in the house. Theyd even threatened her:
*»Keep this up, and well have your Emily taken to an orphanage. One word to social services, and theyll take your granddaughter.»*
But that was years ago. Once Emily turned eighteen, they left her be. In the early days, though, Margaret seethedEmily was her heart, her only treasure, her hope for the future.
Shed lost everyone elseher husband died young at forty-two, a heart attack taking him too soon. She raised their daughter, Alice, alone. Alice was a good girl, married well, moved to the city, and gave Margaret little Emily. Then tragedy struck.
Alices husband was a geologist, always away on expeditionssometimes for half a year. One day, he never returned. Lost without a trace, no body ever found. Rescue teams searched, but one of them vanished tooor so they told Alice.
Alice grieved deeply, left with a child and no husband. Margaret stood by her:
*»I raised you alone when your father died. Youll raise Emily the same wayand Ill be here to help.»*
At first, Alice seemed to accept her fate. But she was only pretending, sparing her mothers heart. Two years later, the unthinkable happened.
Alice turned to drinkfirst occasionally, then daily.
*»The worlds bleak without my Andrew. Without him, theres no joy leftno reason to live,»* shed weep whenever Margaret tried to comfort her.
Margaret did all she could, but Alice was lost to the bottle. She died young, mourned by few.
Margaret was left with fifteen-year-old Emily. She took the girl to the village, though Emily resistedused to city life. But Margaret persuaded her:
*»My pension wont keep us in the city. Here, weve a garden, chickens.»*
Shed often say:
*»Youll have a different life, my treasure. When youre older, Ill find you the right husband!»*
*»Where, Granny? This is the middle of nowhere. Only lost travellers pass through.»*
*»Leave that to me. And pay no mind to gossip.»*
So they livedin a crumbling cottage on the village edge. Margaret tended the home; Emily went to school and helped after lessons. Classmates mocked herthey knew her mothers fate. Neighbours whispered:
*»Her mother was a drunk. What good will the girl be?»*
Margaret burned with quiet fury. It wasnt her fault her husband died young, nor that Alice lost hers. But she vowed to secure Emilys future.
She ignored the whisperslet them talk. The villagers hated thatnothing fazed her.
Yet when she sheltered a traveller, the gossip flared:
*»Shes hunting for a husband among strangersno local lad would take a girl with her past.»*
Margaret would snap back:
*»Weve no need of your village boys. Emilys meant for something better.»*
*»Well see,»* theyd jeer, calling her *»the witch.»*
Time passed. The village quietedfewer cruel words. But it was the calm before the storm.
One winter evening, as darkness settled, a car sputtered and stalled outside. Voices cursed the weather, the roads, their rotten luck.
A burly neighbour stormed out, annoyed:
*»Whats all this noise at night? People are trying to sleep!»*
*»Night? Its barely eight!»*
*»Who are you, anyway? City folkwhat brings you to this godforsaken place?»*
*»Hunters. Got lost on our way. Car broke downany chance of help?»*
*»Hah! And what if youre not who you say? We dont take strangers hereespecially not with my two daughters about. Cant help with the car, either. Sort yourselves out.»*
The hunters exchanged glances.
*»Well, thanks anyway. Anywhere we might find shelter?»*
*»No hotels here. But theres old Margaretbit touched, but shell take anyone in.»*
He jerked a thumb toward the village edge, adding bitterly:
*»Got a young lass living with heryou wont be bored.»*
With that, he vanished inside.
The hunters trudged to the cottage. At their knock, Margarets voice rang out:
*»Come in, lads! Warm yourselvesteas brewing.»*
*»Where you from?»*
*»Hunters,»* they mumbled, taken aback by her welcome.
*»Im Oliver, this is my mate William.»*
William, shy as a schoolboy, flushed.
*»No need for nerves, lads. I know what they say about mebut youre safe here. Suppers nearly ready.»*
As Margaret bustled off, they studied the rooman old icon hung in the corner, photos on the sill. One showed a girl with sad eyesEmily, perhaps?
Margaret returned with potatoes, pickles, fresh bread.
*»Just like my grans!»* William blurted.
*»Eat up. Ill fetch the teadandelion jam, our speciality.»*
*»Dandelions?»* Oliver gaped.
*»My gran made it too!»* William beamed, endearing himself to Margaret.
Then a weak voice called: *»Granny water»*
*»Emilys ill,»* Margaret sighed. *»Fever since yesterdayno medicine, and Im too old to fetch any.»*
William rummaged in his bag. *»Herefever tablets. If shes no better by morning, well help.»*
Margaret thanked him and hurried off.
Later, she returned. *»You lads rest. Ill sit with Emily.»*
William offered to watch over her, but Margaret refused.
*»Ill rest when Im dead. Shes all Ive got.»*
That night, William woke to see Margaret take his coat. Oddwas she searching it?
At dawn, he found his sleeve flawlessly mendeda tear hed forgotten. He could buy a hundred coatswealthy at twenty-seven, owner of a thriving restaurantbut her kindness moved him.
He chopped firewood, lost in thought.
Margaret appeared. *»Bless you, lad! No mans done that here in years.»*
*»Old habitdid it for my gran.»*
She smiled. *»Stay for Pancake Day?»*
William blushed.
Oliver refused*»No way Im stuck here!»*but William agreed.
The smug neighbour returned, sneering:
*»Your city lads not coming. He owns a fancy restaurantwhatd he want with your Emily?»*
Emily fled inside. Margaret shooed him offthen froze.
A car rounded the bend.
William stepped out, roses in hand.
*»MargaretIm in love with Emily. May I marry her?»*
*»If shell have you.»*
Emily ran out, radiant. *»Come inside, my love.»*
They never parted.
And the village? They whispered Margaret had bewitched a rich man into marrying her granddaughter. The neighbour seethed mosthis daughters ignored, while Emily found happiness.
**Lesson learned:** Kindness outlives cruelty, and love blooms where least expected.
