Anne had been nestled in bed for several days, unable to muster the energy to rise. She wasn’t in pain; instead, a persistent dizziness seemed to drain her strength, and she simply had no desire to get up at all.
“What for?” Anne pondered. “I’ve done everything there was to do: raised my children, seen my parents off to their final rest. Now it feels as if theres nothing left for me. The years have flown quietly, hardly noticed.”
Everything around her seemed pointless. With indifference, Anne gazed around her modest room; silvery lines of cobwebs curled here and there from the ceiling. Her eyes drifted to the windowbeyond it, the vegetable garden was now a tangle of weeds. Dawn crept in, and Anne closed her eyes, drifting into a fragile sleep.
In her dream, she saw her mother. This alone startled Annefor her mother had appeared in her dreams only once, three years earlier just after her funeral. Her mothers eyes were gentle, her arms stretched out as if to embrace her and stroke her hair as she had in life, but some invisible barrier kept them apart.
“My dearest girl,” her mother began, “tomorrow will be your final day…”
Anne jolted awake, trembling.
“What do you mean, my last day? Is that it? Why so soon?” Anne cried, her words lost in the emptiness of the house.
She pictured herself laid out on the very bed she now occupied, lifelesschildren, relatives, neighbours arriving… The house in chaos, the garden wild, with nothing edible to offer. Overcome with panic, Anne leapt up and scurried from room to room, not knowing where to begin.
She dashed into the kitchen, hastily kneading dough. “Itll rise by evening, Ill bake some pies. If I survive that long,” she muttered.
She filled a basin with water, grabbed a rag and wiped every speck of dust from the corners, tidied up everything in sight, then scrubbed the floor.
“Well, that’s the house in order,” Anne sighed, catching her breath.
Next, the garden. Like a woman possessed, she raced outside, feeling neither hunger nor fatigue. Her mind throbbed with one refrain: “Last day! Last day!”
Only when the final weed was pulled from the last bed did Anne become aware that her legs ached.
“I should rest. No, later, later,” she told herself.
The dough! She dashed back into the house.
Soon, warm, golden pies sat on the table.
“Tomorrow, when the children come, theyll have tea and my pies, and remember their mother,” Anne whispered, tears thickening her voice. “Best have one myself. Oh, theyre lovelyso soft!”
Anne sat by the window, lost in thought. “It honestly is wonderful, being alive in this world.”
But the day was nearly spent; it was time to prepare for her final journey.
She sifted through her wardrobe, wondering what to wear, finally settling on a new blue dress shed never had occasion to show off.
Standing before the mirror, she fixed her hair and applied a bit of powder and lipstick. She slipped into the dress and examined herself, almost surprised.
“Gosh, look at me! Fit for a wedding, not a wake!”
But fate cannot be reasoned with Anne lay down, ready to die. She never got the chance. Outside, a car engine rumbled, pulling up by her cottage. The horn sounded.
“Must be for the neighbours,” thought Annethey often had visitors.
Moments later, there was a knock at the door, then another.
“Could the children be early?” Anne wondered, peeking out. Nothe car parked outside was unfamiliar.
“Goodness, what a motor!” Anne muttered to herself. Surely someone is lost. She went to the door, loosened the latch and opened it. On her doorstep stood a well-dressed, rather handsome man. Anne sized him up.
“Hes certainly made an effort,” she thought.
“Are you Anne?” he asked.
“I am”
“My apologies, Im a bit lateI came here to see you.”
“Did you need something?” Anne asked, confused.
“Yes, well…” the man faltered. “I must seem a stranger.”
“Im afraid you have the wrong house,” Anne replied, more baffled now.
He held up a hand. “No, no, Im at the right place. Forgive the unexpected visit.”
“Its a bit late for calling,” Anne said firmly. “What do you want?”
He hesitated, “I know its late. Sorry, I misjudged the time. Ive come a distance, and drove in circles trying to find you.”
Seeing her bewildered expression, he continued, “I’m Simon. I wanted to meet you.”
“Honestly,” Anne thought, “not quite what I had planned for today.”
“How do you know me?” she pressed.
“I sent you a friend request on Skype ages ago, but you never log in. I tracked you down, dont ask howI’ll explain everything. I simply had to come.”
“And what am I meant to do with you?” Anne wondered privately.
“Simon, forgive me, but I haven’t the slightest interest in meeting anyone new or changing anything about my life. Youd best head home.”
“Youre probably right,” Simon conceded. “I shouldve called first. Goodbye, Anne.”
He turned towards his car but backtracked and handed Anne an elegant box of chocolates.
“Im sorry.”
Simon headed back to his car.
A wave of guilt surprised Annesuddenly, she felt pity for the stranger. After all, he mustve been travelling all day; he was probably hungry.
“Simon, wait,” she called. “At least come in for a cup of tea.”
Brightening, Simon jogged back to the door.
“With pleasure, Anne.”
Inside, Anne nodded him toward the sink. “Wash up, towels there.”
She poured tea, set the pies on the table.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“If thats all right”
“Of course! Please, help yourself.”
And for the first time in ages, Anne realised she was ravenous too. She set the table quickly, grateful shed cooked so much.
“Bon appétit,” they said at once, both laughing.
It was the best meal Anne had enjoyed in years; she felt peaceful, warmeven with a stranger. Simon was an engaging conversationalist, and within an hour, Anne felt as if shed known him forever.
“If theres anything you need,” Simon said softly, “let me help.”
Anne eyed his smart jacket and shirt, then grinned.
“Help? Theres always plenty to do. The sheds sagging, the fence about to collapse…”
Simon seemed to consider something.
“Ill take care of it. Everything. I promise.”
He began to gather his things.
“Thank you so much For everything. I wont impose for the nightI know thats not proper. Goodbye, Anne.”
“Goodbye, Simon. Safe journey!”
Anne tidied the table, sat a while, and went to bedwell, not to sleep, but to die.
Fatigue overcame her swiftlytoo many hours spent on her feet.
“Child, why did you run yesterday? You didnt let me finish,” her mother was waiting in her dreams. “Today was your last dayof loneliness. We know how hard it is for you alone. So, weve sent you an angel to look after you. Keep him close, my darling, and be as kind to him as he is to you.”
“Whom am I to look after, Mum? Your angels already fledscared by all the work,” Anne murmured.
Her mother blessed her, then faded into the light.
Before it was even light, Anne was roused by lorry engines. Peeking out, she saw a truck brimming with building supplies pull into her drive, followed by another. Men hopped out, unloading timber.
“What on earth?” Anne exclaimed. “I didnt order any of this.”
About to rush outside and send them away, she spotted Simon, directing the unloading.
When the work was finished, everyone departed.
Anne stepped outside.
“Goodness! There’s enough wood here for a whole new house!”
By afternoon, another lorry arrived, this time with sheets of steel, more materials.
“Its a fence,” Anne realisedthe same kind her neighbour prided herself on.
The men set to work straightaway, and among them, she saw Simon, not just supervising but working vigorously himself.
She hurried outside.
“Simon, honestly, why are you?” Anne hesitated.
“Anne, dont fret. All will be wellgo inside, its a chilly day.”
Anne felt entirely out of her depth. Life had taught her to trust no manshed had two in her life, and neither had seen her through. Shed always fixed things herselfno one looked after her. She didn’t know what to make of all this.
Yet, the work continued at a frenetic pace. Within days, a gleaming new fence was set, a shed rebuilt, the floor replaced, and the fire stove repaired. But Annes suspicion lingered.
“Whats he after? Perhaps I ought to pay him?”
Though, in truth, Anne had little money to spare.
“Ill give what I have, and the rest as I can,” Anne resolved.
When a weary but satisfied Simon came inside, Anne said quietly, “Simon, thank you, I dont even know why youve done all this for me”
“Anne, dont. Dont mention it.”
She fished some pounds from her purse and offered them.
“Here, take thisit isnt much, but I will repay every penny.”
“No, Anne! Goodness, theres no need,” Simon protested.
“Take it. Good work deserves payment.”
Without another word, Simon left. Moments later, Anne heard his car quietly depart.
She rushed outside, but he was gone. He didnt return the next day, nor the day after, nor the week after.
Anne was lostan aching loneliness hollowed her out. She couldnt think of anything or anyone else. She’d fallen for Simon, as giddy as a teenager.
“Why did I hurt him? How do I go on without him?” Anne mourned, as if shed known him all her life.
Wandering down the lane, unsure where she was headed or why, Anne was stopped by her neighbour, Mrs Jenkins, who knew all the village gossip.
“Anne, dont send that man awaylook what hes done for you! Hes a proper gent, that one.”
“He’s gone,” Anne muttered, her tone bleak.
“Dont fib,” chuckled Mrs Jenkins. “He parks by the crossroad every night.”
“His carwhere?”
“By the turning to the village”
Anne was already running, hope fluttering inside her. But the crossroads was empty.
“She was having me on,” Anne realised with a sigh, trudging home.
That night, sleep would not come. She wrapped herself in a tartan blanket and sat on the porch stepsthe night chill nipped at her cheeks. Anne bundled herself deep.
“Why am I so unlucky?” she sobbed, voice breaking. “And such a fool!”
This time, when she broke down in tears, someone rushed up, sweeping her into strong arms, kissing her cheeks, still wet with tears.
“Dont cry, Anne. Please!” Simon entreated her.
“Simon, where have you been? Why did you leave?”
“I never did. I couldntbecause I love you.”
“And I love you,” Anne whispered, her heart full, more than life itself.
Anne clung tighter to her angel, sent from above.
“Thank you, Mum,” she murmured, tears flowing again, but now, they were tears of joy.
