I was making pancakes in my own kitchen, when suddenly a strange man walked right in that’s what Dorothy Mayfield tells everyone now. She can almost laugh at it, now that some time has passed. But imagine this: you’re alone, utterly alone. No one else in the flat, nor should there be. And suddenly, there it is a person, as if conjured from thin air, walking straight toward you! That’s exactly how it was.
Dorothy had been divorced from her husband, John, for five years. She was pushing sixty, and she’d given up any thought of new romances. Her children lived far away.
She got by well enough, always got on with the neighbours. Because of that, shed picked up an old habit the front door sometimes left unlocked, just in case good old neighbour Grace popped round, as she often did. Not that Dorothy expected Grace today. But Dorothy had gone out to empty the rubbish, then washed her hands, fed her tabby cat Daisy and somehow forgot to lock the door. Besides, she wasnt afraid; it was broad daylight, a lived-in street of flats, not some dark, lonely woodland.
She fancied pancakes and had just flipped another onto the plate, when she saw him: an unfamiliar man right in the middle of her kitchen, as though hed slipped out of one of the high cupboards.
In that moment, my whole life flashed before my eyes from my days in Sunday School right up to now. Yes, truly, that does happen! Dorothy recounted later. I thought well, this is it. Not that I have much worth stealing, but Id just bought a big telly, got a new computer, even had my pension in my handbag in the hallway. I figured hed already pocketed that and was coming in to see what else he might find. I whispered, Take it all, just please dont harm me I have grandchildren, Id like to see them a bit longer. You have my word, I wont tell a soul!
But then the man started apologising, mumbling something that barely pierced the cotton wool ringing in her ears. He suggested she turn off the hob, which she did without thinking, sinking numbly into a chair. He sat across from her and started explaining. Said hed been walking minding his own business, when a rowdy bunch started pestering him for money. He didnt fancy a dust-up, so he made a run for it. Right then, someone had come out of Dorothys building. He followed, scampered into the door and up the stairs, the group still after him. No time to call for help. At first, he knocked on a few doors, but no one answered. Then he tried the doorknobs and of course, Dorothys swung open.
He asked her to check through the window. Dorothy peered out and truly, there were louts, gathering round outside. Eventually, they shuffled away, muttering to each other.
He introduced himself as Arthur Bennett. And now that Dorothys heart had slowed a tick, she took a better look: a large, slightly awkward man with gentle eyes. If you popped a fur-trimmed red coat on him, hed pass for Father Christmas.
Dreadfully sorry for all this, he said. Would you might I have a pancake? Its been years since Ive tasted any, not since my wife passed.
Hed slipped off his shoes and was still wearing his coat.
You actually fed him? Oh Dorothy, youre braver than Ill ever be! Id have turfed him out on his ear! her neighbour Grace later exclaimed, wide-eyed.
But Dorothy, by then oddly calm, decided she would. She only asked him to wash his hands first. Arthur disappeared to the bathroom and, before long, they sat sipping tea together. He told her he was a widower, never had children, lived alone for ages.
Soon, it was time to part. He apologised again and went on his way.
In the days that followed, Dorothy felt as though she was living out one of those odd British telly dramas, giddy from the strangeness of it all. After ringing everyone she knew and telling her tale, she felt a dull emptiness settle in. Should she, perhaps, have continued the acquaintance? Invited him round for pie? Her pies always turned out grand one with mushrooms, another sweet as honey.
But, well that window had closed, or so she thought. Still, the next day she found herself baking pies anyway. Then came a gentle knock at the door. She peered through the spyhole, expecting Grace, and dashed about the flat in a little flutter. She straightened her hair, changed out of her old housecoat into her smartest knitted suit, gave herself a spritz of perfume shed nearly forgotten about. She flung open the door.
Arthur stood on the threshold, holding a bunch of daffodils.
I erm I wanted to say sorry, really. Gave you rather a fright. Here these are for you. Then Ill be off, he stammered.
Off? No, no! Ive just baked pies and I insist you come in and try some! Dorothy grinned.
Walking up the stairs, I could smell it just like a bakery! What luck for whoever gets to marry you! Arthur sighed dreamily.
Im not married. Please, do come in, Dorothy replied.
Since then, theyve lived together. Arthurs become the chief helper in Dorothys allotment. Her children welcomed him, her grandchildren now call him Granddad Arthur. He dotes on them as if they were his own.
Hed lived alone so long, but finally began to thaw in Dorothys bustling, odd, lovely family. Arthur, once a stranger, became utterly theirs.
Dorothys friends are envious.
Fancy finding a decent fellow at our age and in such a peculiar way, too! Came to you, as if summoned! they exclaim in amazement.
Dorothy laughs and agrees. But these days, she always locks her front door, just in case.
