In a quaint English town, there lived a woman named Mildred Smith. She believed she led quite a respectable life. Though she never had a family or children, she owned her own flat, which was always spotless and orderly. Her job as an accountant at a furniture factory was respectable.
Mildred lived quietly and contentedly until she reached 50. She enjoyed her life, especially when compared to her neighbors’. It pleased her to think everything had turned out well for her. After all, she was a good person and certainly meant no harm to anyone. Her neighbors, however, were quite a different story. On her landing was a woman in her 60s who was rather peculiar.
Would you believe it, an older lady, nearly a pensioner, dyed her hair blue! Imagine that! And she wore tight-fitting dresses and jeans. Everyone had a laugh at her expense—a real town eccentric, that one.
“Outrageous!” thought Mildred, looking at the quirky pensioner, glad she, herself, appeared age-appropriate and respectable.
Then there was the third neighbor; her story was almost shameful to tell. She was only twenty-one and already had a child who looked about five! It was obvious she must have been in school when she got pregnant. Where were her parents looking? Interestingly, the young woman had no parents and lived alone with her daughter. She had even formed a friendship with the blue-haired pensioner. While the young woman was out during the day, the older neighbor would look after her little girl.
This didn’t surprise Mildred. “Birds of a feather flock together,” she mused. “And they avoid me. They must feel shame when they see a decent person. A nod in the lift is all they manage.”
Her last neighbor was a man around 30. Mildred was shocked the first time she saw him. His arms and neck were covered in tattoos! No respectable person would appear like that, certainly not!
Even as a young woman, Mildred disapproved of such people. Obviously, they seek attention because there’s nothing else noteworthy about them, damaging their skin to stand out. Must not be much going on upstairs! They’d do better to read a book.
She had these thoughts every day, encountering one neighbor or another in the lift. When she came home, she quietly relished the fact she lived correctly. Sometimes, she’d chat about her neighbors on the phone with her only friend. They didn’t have much else to talk about, so “the guy with tattoos,” “the young mum,” and “the crazy old lady” became mainstays in their conversations.
One evening, Mildred was heading home from work as usual, but her mood was dreadful. There was a discrepancy at work—the first in years. Who would take the blame? Of course, the accountant. Her head ached all day, and now her ears rang, and her legs felt heavy.
She barely made it to the entrance and sat on a bench. Suddenly, she felt a light touch on her hand. She looked up, surprised to see the very same “pensioner” with blue hair.
“Are you alright? You look unwell,” the neighbor asked softly.
“My head… it hurts,” Mildred whispered.
“Let’s get you to John, he’s home today. You look very pale.”
“John who?” Mildred asked.
“John, who lives on your floor. He’s a cardiologist. You didn’t know?”
Once on the right floor, the neighbor knocked on John’s door. Mildred was shocked to see the tattooed man answering the door—a man she thought couldn’t possibly be respectable.
John took her blood pressure, settled her on a sofa, and gave her some medication. Soon, the headache and ringing faded away.
“Make sure to book an appointment. It’s important to monitor your blood pressure, even for a young lady like yourself,” the doctor smiled, once she felt better.
“Thank you,” Mildred said, feeling awkward, remembering the things she had said about him to her friend. “All that appearance and no brains,” she had said. Yet here he was, a doctor saving lives.
“You’re welcome. Get well! If you need anything, just ask!”
Mildred thanked the doctor, returned home, and lay on her couch. How wrong she had been about the man… And the pensioner with the blue hair proved to be a kind woman. She approached her out of concern.
There was a knock at the door. Standing there was the blue-haired pensioner, holding the young girl’s hand, the child Mildred had judged her mother too young to have.
“I just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re alright. Pardon me bringing Lily along, Anna’s at work… And I’ve so long wanted to introduce myself. But never dared. It’s just good timing! We all chat with neighbors, but you keep to yourself!”
“Come in; I’ll make some tea,” Mildred unexpectedly said. “Thank you for helping when I wasn’t well…”
“No thanks needed. I can tell when someone’s unwell. I spent my youth caring for my sick mother. She took to bed when I was 14 and passed when I was well into my 30s. Never had much schooling or romance, just looked after her… Barely had time to have a child. Oh well, don’t want to dwell on it. Now, I’m enjoying my later years,” she said apologetically, gesturing to her bright hair. “Thanks to my daughter, helped me dye it. And she buys me trendy tops. I want to feel young, though Anna has it harder.”
“Who’s Anna?” Mildred asked.
“Anna, next door to me—Lily’s her little sister. Her parents died in a car accident. She adopted her sister, raises her, left university, working hard all day, poor thing. John helps her with money sometimes. You know, John who helped you today…”
When the neighbor left, Mildred quietly sat in her kitchen, gazing blankly ahead. She thought she might offer Anna some help; she, too, could watch Lily sometimes. And she’d always wanted to dye her hair auburn.
She had always thought it inappropriate at her age. She’d definitely consult her neighbor about it tomorrow! And she mustn’t forget to invite John for some pies to thank him for his help.
