This is Not Your Home
Eleanor gazed sadly about the house where she had spent her girlhood. At eighteen, she was thoroughly disheartened with life. Why, she wondered, had fate dealt her so cruel a hand? Her grandmother had passed away, her dreams of university dashedthanks to a girl who had sat beside her during exams. That girl had copied from her; and when shed handed in her paper first, shed whispered something into the examiners ear. He scowled, called Eleanor forward, demanded to see her answers, then announced she was being expelled for cheating. No protest could change his mind. Later, Eleanor discovered the girl was the daughter of a local dignitary. What chance did she stand against such people?
And now, after so many misfortunes, her mother reappeared, with two half-brothers and a new husband. Where had they been all these years? It was Gran who had raised Eleanor, while her mother had stayed no longer than her fourth year, and left Eleanor with not a single fond memory. While father worked, her mother would leave the little girl alone to seek amusements of her own. Even in matrimony, she was always searching for a better man, never shy about it, not even when father died so suddenly.
As a widow, Margaret did not grieve long. She packed her bags, left her four-year-old on Grans doorstep, sold off the flat that belonged to her late husband, and disappeared, heedless of Grans pleas for conscience.
Margaret turned up from time to time, but Eleanor never felt she cared for her. One visit, when Eleanor was twelve, she arrived with then seven-year-old Stephen and began insisting Gran sign over the house.
No, Maggie! Youre not getting a thing from me! Gran had refused bluntly.
When you’re gone, itll be mine anyway! Margaret retorted coldly, casting an irritated glance at her daughter in the next room, gathering Stephen and storming out.
Why do you argue every time Mum comes? Eleanor had asked.
Your mothers selfish, thats why! I didnt raise her right, should have been firmer! Gran had answered angrily.
Grans illness had come on suddenly. Shed never been one to complain of health, but one afternoon, returning from school, Eleanor found her always-busy Gran pale and motionless in her favourite armchair by the balcony.
Are you all right, Gran? she asked, anxious.
Not feeling myself, darling Call for a doctor, please, Gran said gently.
After that came hospital visits, worrying nightsand Gran’s passing. Her final days were spent in hospital, not even visitors allowed. Frantic with worry, Eleanor rang her mother, who initially refused to come. Only when told Gran was in intensive care did she bother, making it in time only for the funeral. Three days later, she thrust a will in her daughters face.
This house now belongs to me and my sons! Oskar will arrive soon. I know you dont get along with him. So for now, youd best stay with Aunt Gail, all right?
There wasnt a trace of sorrow in her mothers voice. She actually seemed pleased Gran was gone and shed inherited at last.
Crushed by grief, Eleanor couldnt bring herself to resist. The will was clear. So for a while, she truly did stay with Aunt Gailher fathers sister. Gail, ever restless, still dreamed of marrying well, so the house was always full of noisy, tipsy guests and Eleanor found it unbearable. Worse, some guests took a most unwelcome interest in her, which terrified the girl.
Sharing all this with her boyfriend, Peter, Eleanor was surprised and cheered by his response.
I wont stand for leering old men pestering you, he declared resolutely, Ill talk to my father today. We have a small place on the edge of townDad promised it to me once I got into university. Well, I kept my end, now its his turn.
But what about me? Eleanor said, stunned.
What do you think? Well live there together!
Your parents will agree?
Theyll have to! Anyway, Eleanor, consider this my proposal. Will you marry me and share my home?
Eleanor was so happy she nearly burst into tears. Of course I will!
Her aunt was delighted by news of the wedding; her mother, on the other hand, nearly ground her teeth down to the gums.
So, you found yourself a husband, did you? Not clever enough for university, so you found your way in elsewhere. Well, dont come begging for moneythis house is mine, and you get nothing!
Her words stung Eleanor deeply. Through tears she choked out her troubles to Peter, who quickly brought her to his family home, where his parents comforted her and offered soothing tea.
Andrew Simon, Peters father, listened attentively as Eleanor recounted her many woes.
You poor child! What kind of mother would say such a thing? Peter’s mother exclaimed, horrified.
My question is Andrew said thoughtfully, Why is she so anxious over the house, always holding it over you, if the will says she inherits?
I dont know Eleanor sobbed. She and Gran always argued about it. She used to ask Gran to sell it and give her the money, then later insisted Gran sign it over. Gran always refusedshe said if she did, wed both end up on the street.
Its all so odd! Have you seen a solicitor since your Gran passed? Andrew asked.
No, should I? Eleanor was puzzled.
To have your inheritance recognised, he explained.
But Mother is the heir. Im only the granddaughter, and besidesshe showed me the will.
Its a bit more complicated than that, said Andrew. After the weekend, you and I will go to the solicitors office together. Now, you need some rest.
During this time, Eleanors mother appeared again, thrusting documents at her and trying to force a signature. But Peter intervened.
She wont sign anything! he stated.
And who are you to say? Margaret cut in angrily, Shes a grown woman and makes her own decisions.
Im her future husband, and I think this could harm her. So she wont sign a thing for now.
Margaret exploded with insults but left, empty-handed. The incident only increased Andrews suspicion.
A few days later, true to his word, Andrew accompanied Eleanor to the solicitor.
Listen carefully, check all the paperwork before signing, he advised her.
But the solicitor was honest. He took Eleanors statement, and the next day, they learned a probate had been opened in Eleanors name. Unbeknownst to her, Gran had left a small savings account for her education.
And what about the house? Andrew asked the solicitor, ever the attentive guardian.
The house was transferred by deed of gift to the young lady some years ago. No competing claim exists.
By deed of gift? Eleanor said, astonished.
Indeed. Your grandmother arranged it through us a few years back, and now you have every right to live in and manage the propertyyoure of age.
And the will?
It was written out seven years ago, but later revoked. I daresay your mother has no idea. The house rightfully belongs to you.
Andrews suspicions were confirmed.
So now what? Eleanor asked nervously as they stepped outside.
Now you must let your mother know the house is yours, and she must leave it.
Shell never agree! Shes already packed up my things to throw them out.
Theres always the police for such matters.
When confronted, Margaret was furious:
So youd throw your own mother out? Ruthless girl! See if I care. Out you go! Dont think Ill fall for your tales! Who put you up to this, your Peter and his father? Ive got documents proving my right! Theres a will naming me as heir!
Thats right! So youd both best clear off before I break your legs, Oskar, her step-brother, chimed in menacingly. Andrew and Eleanor merely stood their ground.
You, sir, could be held for threats and misconduct, Andrew warned calmly but firmly.
What? Who are you to tell me? Get lost! The house is up for salebuyers will be here soon!
But instead of buyers, soon the police arrived. They reviewed the documents and ordered Margaret and her crowd to leave or face prosecution. Enraged but helpless before the law, Margaret and her family left, and at last, Eleanor returned home. Peter refused to let her stay there alone, fearing threats from her mother’s husband, and joined her.
And he was right. Margaret and Oskar continued to harass the couple for weeks. Upon discovering Grans savings, Margaret tried to lay claim, and did manage to seize part of itbut the house she could not touch, no matter her efforts. Only after seeking legal advice from every quarter did she realise shed lost entirely. Defeated, she gathered her things and, with her family, returned to her own homenever to see Eleanor again.
Eleanor married Peter. The next summer, she began reading English Literature at the university shed dreamed of. By her third year, their first child was born. She remained forever grateful to her husband and his family for the support theyd shown at her darkest hourand lived the rest of her life in happiness.
Odette
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The Riddle
The cottage was old, but lovingly kept. It had not stood empty long enough to become dilapidated or wild. Thank goodness for that, thought Mary. Ive no man about the place, nor likely ever shall. And I, unlike those indomitable English women of legend, am no dab hand at knocking in nails or braving house fires single-handed!
She climbed the front step, fished the big iron key from her handbag, and unlocked the heavy padlock.
***
For reasons unknown, this house had been bequeathed to Mary by old Auntie Louisa, a distant relation. A curious thing, for Mary hardly knew her. Still, who could fathom the workings of an elderly mindLouisa must have neared a century, if Marys sums were right. She was either an obscure great-aunt or a first cousin once removed. Mary recalled her only as a seamstress and cook to the family.
Mary had visited Auntie Louisa in her youth; even then Louisa seemed very elderly, but lived independently, never troubling relatives or asking for help. And recently, quite suddenly, she had passed on.
When Mary received the call to say her Granny in the village of Riddle had died, it took a moment before remembering Auntie Louisa. Even more astonishing was the news that Louisa had left her both the cottage and half an acre of land.
A present for your future pension! her husband, Michael, had joked.
Im fifty-foura long march to the age for pensions yet, Mary replied. Theyll only keep pushing it back, no doubt. So lets just call it a gift, though I cant imagine what I did to deserve it. Id no notion Aunt Louisa was even alive this long! Still, Im in no position to be fussy. If Ive been given a gift, Ill make use of it.
Or well sell! Michael had said, rubbing his hands at the thought.
***
But selling would have been folly. Only a few months after Mary inherited, life served her another surprisefar less pleasant. She discovered her dear Michael had been unfaithful. There it was: silver-haired and straying, as they say, a stone hid under the shirtfrontShe found the truth one unremarkable Tuesday, through a chance text flashing up on his carelessly abandoned phone. There was pain, yesand anger, hot and raggedfollowed by a numb clarity. Within the week, Michael was gone. There was no dramatic confrontation, only the fraught sound of his suitcase wheels scraping down the hallway, and then his car pulling away.
In the trembling silence that followed, Mary packed her grief and what was left of her pride, and set off for the village of Riddle. What awaited hersanctuary or solitudeshe could not guess. But as she drove, she wondered what kind of woman Auntie Louisa had been, to manage alone all those decades. Perhaps, in this inherited refuge, Mary would learn.
Days slipped past in gentle, surprising ways. The cottage, small but welcoming, needed care: a leaky tap, a weed-choked patch of lavender, old lace curtains that smelled of rosewater, not dust. Mary worked slowly, hands remembering things shed thought belonged in the past: baking bread, hemming a dress, whittling rowan twigs for the fire.
Villagers grew curious, then kindly. There was Mrs. Robbins, the hedgerow-witch with marmalade jars; Mr. Eccles, the widower who delivered eggs and advice; and Lillian, the vicars daughter, who convinced Mary to join the monthly poetry readings at the pubeven though Mary had never read a poem aloud in her life.
It was at such a gathering, one storm-bright evening, that she unfolded a poem Louisa had writtenfound tucked behind the mantelpiece, in a yellowing envelope addressed simply For the Next Lonely Soul. The riddle inside read:
“When love betrays and life is torn,
Begin anew where self is born.
Love again the dawns first light
And find, at last, your spirit right.”
As she spoke the words into the lamplight, Mary felt the eyes of the room turn warm and expectant. And something shifted within hera loosening, a hope as shy and relentless as a snowdrop pressing through frozen earth.
She smiled, her voice steadier with each line. By the end, she knew the answer to Louisas riddle lay not in the poem, but in the livingin daring to root herself again, and grow.
That night, as rain whispered on the thatch, Mary did not ache for what shed lost. She closed her eyes beneath the ancient beams, and for the first time in a long time, she was grateful not for the life behind her, but for the one, at last, unfoldingnew, uncertain, but entirely, gloriously, her own.
