Quiet happiness
Tommy Bennett was only three when his mother died. He watched her tumble from a roaring motorcycle that barreled toward them, her red dress catching fire for a breath before darkness swallowed the scene. Doctors did everything they could, and Tommy finally opened his eyes, though the memory of his mother stayed locked inside.
The staff feared the moment he might ask for her, but the boy remained silent for six months. One night he awoke with a cry that shattered the silence: Mum! In his dream the red flame flared again, and the image of his mothers dress returned to his mind. By then Tommy was living in the Sheffield Childrens Home, unable to understand why he had been placed there. He developed a habit of standing before the big bay window that overlooked the main road and the towns high street, his eyes fixed on the distance.
What are you doing there all the time? grumbled Maggie Clarke, the ageing housekeeper, sweeping the hallway with practiced strokes.
Im waiting for Mum. Shell come for me, he answered.
Maggie sighed, Dont waste your time there. Come, Ill get you a cup of tea.
Tommy agreed, but after the tea he would return to the window, flinching whenever anyone approached the home.
Days turned into months, and Tommy never left his post, hoping that one day the grey sky would burst with a woman in a red dress, extending her arms and saying, Finally, Ive found you, my son! Maggie wept for him, feeling his loss more keenly than for any other child, yet she could not change his waiting. Doctors, psychologists, and social workers tried to explain that he need not linger by the window forever, that there were games, friends, and schoolwork to occupy him. Tommy nodded politely, but each time they left, he hurried back to the sill. Maggie often caught his silhouette through the glass, waving goodbye as she left for work.
One afternoon Maggie turned to go home, her tired steps taking her across the old railway bridge that spanned the tracks outside town. A young woman stood at the railing, staring down. She made a quick, almost imperceptible movement, and Maggie understood what she intended.
You foolish thing, Maggie called, moving closer.
What did you say? the stranger asked, her eyes dull with years.
Foolish! Do you know what sin it is to deny yourself life? It isnt yours to end, the woman snapped. What if I cant go on any longer? What if I have no strength left?
Then come with me, Maggie replied. I live just beyond the bridge. We can talk there; theres no point standing here.
Maggie walked away without looking back, holding her breath. The womans footsteps echoed behind her, and Maggie exhaled in relief, thankful she had arrived in time.
Whats your name, dear? Maggie asked.
Ethel, the woman said.
Ethel My own daughter was called that. She died five years ago, a terrible illness took her in a year, leaving me a widow with no children, no grandchildren, no husband. Im Maggie, and this is my modest homenot a palace, but its mine. Ill change and set a table; well have dinner and tea, and things will settle. Ethel smiled gratefully.
Thank you, Aunt Maggie.
Maggie chuckled, Ah, dear Ethel, lifes always hard on a woman. Tears and suffering pile up, but flinging yourself into despair is the last thing to do.
Ethel warmed her hands over a steaming mug, Im usually strong, but something inside me feels maddened.
Ethel had grown up in a Yorkshire village, shielded from sorrow until seven. Her parents adored her, the only child of the household. Then everything fell apart. Her father abandoned them for a new family with other children. Her mother, crushed by the blow, turned to drink and vented her rage on Ethel. In revenge against her husband, she began bringing strangers into the house, neglecting chores and dumping all responsibilities onto her teenage daughter. Soon, the husbands drinking buddies stripped away what little remained of the fathers legacy.
To survive, Ethel took odd jobs for neighbourshoeing gardens, running errandsfor food and a few shillings. She fed her drunken mother without any gratitude, knowing a normal family would never come. Her father never called, never asked how they fared. Rumours claimed he had moved abroad, and Ethel accepted she would never see him again. Poverty kept her friendless; the local lads shunned the daughter of a drunk, leaving her isolated in a relatively prosperous village where families like hers were rare. From a young age she became a social outcast.
One night, a drunken neighbour of her mother crashed into her bedroom. By sheer luck Ethel escaped through the window, avoiding a terrible fate. She spent the predawn hours in a crumbling outbuilding, then, once the house fell silent, slipped back in, gathered her papers, stole a few coins hidden in a secret drawer, packed a modest bag, and fled, never to return.
Later that evening her father John arrived, hoping to reunite with his daughter. The sight of the ruined home horrified him; he searched the village, asking everyone, but no one knew where Ethel had gone. He wept in his expensive lorry, cursing himself for coming back so late. John had been a longhaul truck driver and, on one route, had met a wealthy unmarried woman named Helen. She used his transport company repeatedly and always insisted on John himself. He charmed her, and she pursued him. Over several years they had two sons before Helen announced she would leave England.
Do you want to live with us? Come together, or return to your wife. I love you, John, and it will be hard without you, but the choice is yours.
John chose Helen. He regretted leaving his daughter, but he no longer wanted to juggle two families, and Ethels mothers constant accusations and jealousy wore him down. Eventually, while Ethel was at school, John came home to find his wife with another man. The confrontation ended with the wife telling their daughter that their father had abandoned them forever. Ethel fled the village, seeking work in the city.
In Manchester a kindly old lady, Agnes Whitford, rented her a tiny room. Ethel paid three months rent in advance. When the period ended, Agnes offered Ethel a place to stay in exchange for household help. For five years Ethel tended to Agnes, and during the last two Agnes was bedridden. When Agnes passed away, grief-stricken Ethel learned she was the sole heir to a modest flat on the outskirts of town.
One day Ethel met Peter Hart, a young bank clerk she liked instantly. Their romance seemed a fresh start, but two years later she caught Peter with another woman. He refused to apologize, threw the lover out, then violently assaulted Ethel, landing her in hospital. She never got to tell him she was pregnant; she lost the baby, and doctors warned she might never conceive again. Homeless, she lost the flat Agnes had left her when Peter sold it to buy a flashy car. Yet Ethel clung to hope.
After discharge she wandered aimlessly until she found herself on a railway bridge. Maggie Clarke, now retired, listened without interrupting, then said, Thats nothing. You still have to live, understand? Youre young, you have everything aheadlove, happiness. Stay with me for a while; I work all day and only come home at night.
Ethel spent two weeks at Maggies cottage. A new neighbourhood officer, Gregory Patel, stopped by to meet residents. Maggie was away, so Gregory talked with Ethel, promising to return. He kept his word, visiting often, and soon became a trusted friend.
One afternoon Gregory called Ethel. Do you know John Andrews?
Yes, hes my father.
Hes been looking for you for years.
John, overjoyed that his daughter had been found, bought her a decent flat, opened a respectable bank account, helped her secure a prestigious job, and promised to visit more often.
When Ethel went to see Maggie later, she found the old woman feverish and weak.
Somethings got me down, dear! Im afraid I wont pull through.
Dont say that, Aunt Maggie. Ive called an ambulance; theyll be here soon. Trust me.
Maggie whispered, You know I work at the childrens home. Theres a little boy, Tommy Bennett, just turned five. I want to leave my flat to him. Keep it safe for him.
What boy? How will I know him?
Youll see. Hes been waiting by that same window for two years, hoping his mother in the red dress will return.
The ambulance whisked Maggie to the hospital, then to a convalescent home, all expenses covered by Ethel. When Maggie returned to work, the window was emptyTommy had been adopted. Stories whispered that his mother finally appeared. One crisp morning, as Tommy stood at his post, a silhouette in a red dress materialised on the road. He clutched his heart and shouted, Mum! The woman gazed straight at him, waved, and rushed toward him.
Tommy ran, fearing she might vanish, but she opened her arms and embraced him. Mum! I knew youd come! Ive waited for you forever!
Ethel held the thin little boy, vowing he would never know such loss again. Time passed. Ethel and Gregory lived in a spacious house, raising Tommy, who was now ready for school and hopeful for a little brother. Maggie, grateful for Ethel and Gregorys kindness, stayed nearby. The quiet happiness of their family lay in the love they gave each other every day.
In the end, they learned that sorrow can be softened by compassion, and that waiting in the dark is only worth it when someone reaches out with a hand of kindness.
