This Is Not Your Home
Evelyn gazed wistfully at the house shed grown up in since she was a child. At eighteen, she already felt utterly disillusioned with life. Why had fate been so unkind to her? Her grandmother had passed away, her hopes of entering university had shattered thanks to the girl whod sat next to her during the entrance exams. That girl had copied all her answers, then, when she handed in her paper before anyone else, shed whispered something to the examiner. Hed frowned, called Evelyn forward, demanded to see her answers, and declared she was being disqualified for cheating. There was no way Evelyn could prove her innocence. Later she discovered that this same girl happened to be the daughter of the local councillor. How could anyone win against people like that?
Now, after so many setbacks, her mother had reappeared, bringing along two younger brothers and a new husband. Where had they been all these years? It was her grandmother whod raised Evelynher mother had only been around until Evelyn was about four years old. And that time held no fond memorieswhile her father was at work, her mother would leave her alone at home to go out socialising. Even while married, shed been on the constant lookout for a better man, never shy about it, not then nor after Evelyns fathers sudden passing.
Widowed, her mother, Margaret, mourned her husband only briefly. She packed her things, left her four-year-old daughter on her mothers doorstep, sold the old flat her late husband had left, and vanished. Evelyns grandmother, Ruth, tried to appeal to her daughters conscience, but in vain.
Over the years Margaret visited now and then, but Evelyn soon realised her mothers interest in her was negligible. On one occasion, when Evelyn was twelve, Margaret turned up with her then seven-year-old son Michael in tow, demanding her mother sign over the house to her.
No, Maggie! Youll get nothing! her mother replied adamantly.
Youll die soon enoughthen itll be mine anyway! Margaret snapped back, glancing irritably at her daughter peeking from the next room, grabbing Michael, and storming out, slamming the door behind her.
Why do you always argue when she visits? Evelyn asked Ruth that evening.
Because your mothers a selfish woman! I must’ve failed in raising her, Ruth said with angry regret.
Ruths illness came unexpectedly. Shed never been one to complain about her health. But one day, after school, Evelyn found her bustling grandmother pale and quiet, sitting motionless in an armchair by the windowthe first time shed ever seen her that way.
Is something wrong? Evelyn asked, concerned.
I dont feel too well Call the ambulance, dear, her grandmother said calmly.
What followed was the hospital. Drips. Death. Ruth spent her final days in intensive care, no visitors allowed. Desperate and afraid, Evelyn phoned her mother. At first, Margaret refused to come. Only after learning her mother was in intensive care did she finally agreethough she arrived only for the funeral. Just three days after the burial, she thrust a will in Evelyns face.
This house now belongs to me and my sons! Oleg will arrive soon enough. I know you dont get on. So stay with Aunt Gillian for a while, wont you?
There was not a hint of sorrow in her mothers voice. She almost seemed to delight in Ruths passingas if inheriting the house was a victory at last.
Grief-stricken, Evelyn had no power to resist. The will had been clear. So, for a time, she really did go to live with Aunt Gillianher late fathers sister. But Gillian was rather flighty and still harboured hopes of finding a wealthy match for herself, which meant regular riotous gatherings at her place. Evelyn couldnt stand it. Worse still, some of the guests began to show a lecherous interest in her, which terrified her.
She confided in her boyfriend, Peter, who surprised her by saying exactly what she most wanted to hear:
Im not having all sorts of old men looking at you or trying their luck! he said, resolutely for his nineteen years. Ill speak to Dad. Weve a small flat on the edge of townDad already promised I could move in once I got into university. Ive kept my side of the bargainnow its his turn.
I dont see what that has to do with me, Evelyn answered, confused.
What do you mean? Well live there together!
Do you think your parents will allow that?
They havent got a choice. Todays the dayIm asking you: will you marry me and live with me in our own place?
Evelyn nearly burst into tears of gratitude.
Yes yes, of course!
When Aunt Gillian heard about the upcoming wedding, she cheered. Her mother, on the other hand, nearly ground her teeth to stubs.
So, youre getting married? Been quick off the mark, havent you? Couldnt get into university, so now youre after a husband to get by! Well, you wont have a penny from meI wont give you anything! And that house is mine. Youre left with nothing!
Her mothers words hurt deeply. Through her sobs, Peter barely understood what happened, but he brought his weeping bride-to-be home, where his parents fussed over her and made her tea to calm her down.
Peters father, Andrew, listened closely to her talea strangers misfortunes stuffed into a few short months that would frighten most people.
My poor girl! What kind of mother is that? Peters mother exclaimed with a gasp as she heard Margarets poisonous threats.
What bothers me, Andrew mused, is why Margaret is so fixated on this houseespecially if the will is clear, and she keeps brandishing it at you.
I dont know, whispered Evelyn through her tears. She always argued with Grandma about it when she visited. First, she asked for it to be sold and the money given to her. Then, she demanded the house itself be signed over. But Grandma said no every timeshe said if she did, wed be out on the street.
Somethings fishy, Andrew said. Tell me, after Ruth passed away, did you see a solicitor?
No why would I? Evelyn was puzzled.
To confirm your inheritance rights.
But the heir is my mother. Im just the granddaughter. Besides, I saw the willshe showed me.
Its not that simple, Andrew replied. After the weekend, well make an appointment together. For nowget some rest.
While they waited, Evelyn had another run-in with her mother, who brought over a stack of papers and tried to force Evelyns signature. Peter intervened.
Shes not signing anything!
And just who are you? Margaret snapped rudely. Evelyns an adultshe can decide for herself.
Im her fiancé, and I think this could be risky for her. So, no signing anything for now.
Margaret let fly a barrage of insults but, thwarted, had no choice but to leave empty-handed. This only made Andrew more suspicious than ever.
A few days later, as promised, Andrew took Evelyn to the solicitor.
Listen well to everything, but check all documents before you sign, he instructed.
This solicitor, however, was diligent and honest. He took Evelyns statement. The very next day, they learned a probate case had been opened in her name. Unbeknownst to Evelyn, Ruth had left a savings account with a tidy sum saved up to pay for her granddaughters education.
And what about the house? Andrew asked, ever thorough.
As for the property, it was gifted, the solicitor explained, Ruth filed the deed for you several years ago. You turned eighteen recentlyyou now have full rights to the house. No other documents exist.
A gift? But what about the will? Evelyn was astonished.
It was written seven years earlier, then revoked. Your mother probably didnt know. The house is yours, and you have every right to live there.
Andrews suspicions were confirmed.
What do I do now? Evelyn said, overwhelmed, as they left the office.
What do you mean? Tell your mother the house is yours, and she must move out.
Shell never leave! Shes already packed up all my belongings to toss them outside!
Well, thats a matter for the police!
When Evelyn told her mother, Margaret exploded with fury.
You little wretch! Kicking your own mother out? Get out yourself! You think Ill believe your fairy stories? Whos putting these ideas in your headyour precious fiancé and his father? Birds of a feather! I have a document proving my rightsIve got it all! Theres a will, and it names me as beneficiary!
Thats right! Oleg chimed in, watching with thinly veiled hatred. Get out, or Ill break your legs to make sure you dont come back! Andrew and Evelyn stood their ground.
For threatening behaviour, my man, you can be prosecuted, Andrew warned, firm and polite.
What? Who are you to lecture me? Out of my house! Were selling this placethe buyers are coming any minute!
But when visitors arrived, it was the police. After hearing the story, they demanded Margaret and her clan vacate the premises, warning them of criminal charges otherwise. Margaret and her sons were furious but powerless against the law. At last, Evelyn returned to her home. Peter insisted on moving in with her, fearing Margarets husband might cause trouble, and wisely so.
Margaret and Oleg kept harassing Evelyn for some time. When Margaret discovered the existence of Ruths savings, she tried to claim them too. There was little to be doneshe got a portion. But no matter what she schemed, she failed to claim the house. Only after seeking advice from every solicitor she could find, did she give up, pack her family, and leave once and for all. Evelyn never saw her again.
Evelyn and Peter married. The following summer, Evelyn went off to university to study her dream course. By her third year, she had given birth to their first child. Thankful for the support of her husband and his family during the hardest times in her life, Evelyn lived the rest of her days in happiness.
Author: Odette
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The Mystery
The cottage was old, but still well cared for and welcoming. It hadnt sat empty for long and hadnt yet fallen into disrepair or neglect. Thank goodness for that, Mary thought to herself. There arent any men about these days to help, and Im hardly one of those legendary English women who can manage a hammer, wrangle a runaway horse, and dash through burning barns all at once!
She ascended the stone porch steps, dug the heavy key from her handbag, and unlocked the great rusty padlock.
***
This house had come into Marys possession through a will from Auntie Lilliana distant relation, and barely familiar to her. Really, who can say what passes through the minds of those ancient relatives? Auntie Lillian must have been close to a hundred by Marys calculations, and Marys relation to her was murky at bestsome sort of great-aunt or cousin twice removed, if family tales were to be believed.
Mary had visited once or twice in her youth, but even then Auntie Lillian had been of advanced age and always insisted on living alone. She never asked family for much and managed on her own. But now, quite suddenly, she had died.
When Mary received the phone call telling her her grandmother had died in the quiet village of Whisper Hollow, she didnt immediately recall Auntie Lillians existence. Certainly, she hadnt expected to be left a little cottage and twelve perches of land.
A gift for your old age! her husband Michael had chuckled.
Old age? Im only fifty-four! Ill be lucky if I even reach official retirement, the way they keep putting it off. No, its just a giftand I’ve no idea why I deserve it. I didnt even know Auntie Lillian was alive until recently! I thought shed passed on years ago. But, theres no use complainingat my age, gifts are to be used, not turned away.
Or sold! said Michael, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
***
It turned out well they hadnt sold it. Just a few months after Mary became a landowner, she received another, far less pleasant surpriseone that she could never have anticipated. She discovered, quite out of the blue, that her dear Michael had been unfaithful. That, it seemed, was how life could change for an Englishwoman, with a flash of grey in her hair, a mischievous impulse in her husband, and a secret stone pressed tightly under her heartShed stumbled on the message late one night, Michaels phone vibrating with a name she didnt recognize, a string of affectionate words glowing on the screen. Her breath caught. She felt as if the floor beneath her had shifted. The next morning, when she confronted him, he didnt bother to deny ithe only sighed, eyes fixed somewhere beyond her, and said hed wanted something different. The house in Whisper Hollow suddenly became her escape, her sanctuary, and shed never been more grateful for an old womans whim.
So here Mary was, the musty scent of dust and dried lavender swirling around her as she stepped through the doorwayher doorway, she thought with a surprised sense of ownership. The cottage held its breath, waiting for her. She explored the cozy rooms, sunlight making patterns on faded wallpaper, her footsteps echoing in the quiet. A kettle found on the shelf, a teapot in the cupboard, a patchwork chair that creaked companionably when she eased herself into it. Each item, lovingly arranged and cared for by a woman who had lived alone and yet, perhaps, never felt lonely.
As dusk fell, Mary wandered out among the overgrown roses and crumbling stone walls. She thought about Michael, and for the first time, she felt only a small pangnot the tearing ache of betrayal, but something gentler, like the tenderness that comes after a wound has begun to heal. She was still herself. She was still standing.
Inside, she discovered a letter tucked into the grandfather clock, addressed in spidery writing: To whomever finds this house, I leave you my solitude, my peace, and the love I discovered in simple things. It was signed, With hope for your happiness, Lillian.
Mary pressed the words to her heart, allowing herself the smallest smile. Thank you, Auntie, she whispered. Later that night, she brewed herself a cup of tea and sat by the window, listening to the breeze rustle in the yews. Alone, yes, but never again adrift.
In the months that followed, Mary planted vegetables, painted shutters, hosted neighbors, and learned to mend dripping taps with her own two hands. Every day, she rediscovered something lost: the pleasure of her own company, the thrill of self-reliance, the gentle, insistent rhythm of quiet joy.
Whisper Hollow soon became a village rumor: That Mary! Shes the happiest woman, you know. Lives in the old Lillian place. She smiled at these whispers. Here, in the house that should never have been hers, Mary found not just shelter, but a homea place where, at last, she belonged.
And for all the years to come, whenever the padlock clicked open and new neighbors crossed her threshold, warmth and laughter spilled from every window, as if the cottage itself was grateful to have found her too.
