Heres the thingweve got guests coming soon, so youll need to make yourselves scarce. “You understand, dont you? Having you around would ruin the holiday,” my son said.
“Mum, where are we supposed to go? Weve got no one here,” my wife, Margaret, asked.
“How should I know? Mrs. Wilkins from the village used to invite you overgo there.”
Victor and Margaret had regretted a hundred times listening to their son and selling their cottage.
Sure, life there had been hard, but it was theirs. They were the masters of their own home. And here? They barely left their room, afraid of upsetting their daughter-in-law, Catherine. Everything about them irritated herthe way they shuffled in slippers, how they sipped tea, even the way they ate.
The only person in the flat who cared for them was their grandson, James.
A handsome young man, he adored his grandparents beyond reason. If his mother so much as raised her voice in his presence, hed snap back. But their son, Edwardwhether out of fear or indifferencenever stood up for them.
James even ate dinner with them. But he was rarely home, away on an internship, staying in a dorm near work. He only visited on weekends.
The old couple lived for those visits. Christmas was coming. James arrived early one morning just to wish them a happy New Year.
He walked into their room, carrying giftswarm socks and gloves. He knew they were always cold. Plain gloves for Grandad, embroidered ones for Grandma.
Margaret pressed the gloves to her face and wept.
“Grandma, whats wrong? Dont you like them?”
“Oh, darling, theyre perfect. The most precious things Ive ever had.”
She hugged him, and he kissed her handssomething hed done since childhood. They always smelled of something sweetapples, baking dough, but most of all, of warmth and love.
“Listen, you two, hold on without me for three days. Im off with the lads, then Ill be back.”
“Enjoy yourself, love,” Grandma said. “Well manage.”
James packed his bag, said his goodbyes, and left. The old couple retreated to their room.
An hour later, Catherines shrill voice carried down the hall. Guests were coming, and she didnt want “the old folk” around. Where could they be sent? It was embarrassingtheyd ruin the mood.
And where would the guests even sleep? Edward tried to arguewhere was he supposed to put them?but Catherine wouldnt listen.
The old couple sat silent as mice, too afraid to even make tea. Victor dug out some biscuits from his secret stash, sharing them with Margaret.
They sat by the window, chewing in silence, too afraid to speak. A tear trembled in Margarets eye. How cruel it wasto live so long and end up unwanted.
As evening fell, Edward walked in.
“Heres the thingguests are coming, so youll need to leave. You understand, dont you?”
“Son, where are we supposed to go? Weve got no one,” Margaret asked.
“How should I know? Mrs. Wilkins invited you oncego there.”
“But how? The buses arent running, and we dont know where the station is. She might not even be alive.”
“I dont know. Catherine says youve got an hour.”
Edward left. Victor and Margaret looked at each other, both fighting tears. They packed quietlyeven Jamess gifts would be useful now.
They dressed warmly and stepped outside. The streets bustled with last-minute shoppers.
Margaret held Victors arm as they walked slowly to the park, stopping at a café for tea and sandwichesthey hadnt eaten all day.
They lingered an hour, dreading the cold outside. Snow had begun to fall, the wind bitter. A small gazebo in the park offered shelter.
At least it was a roof. They huddled close. Margaret studied her gloves. Victor sighed.
“At least our grandson has a heart, unlike his parents.”
“We promised him wed manage,” she whispered.
Time passed. Snow fell harder. Lights twinkled in windows as families gathered for New Years Eve.
Then a spaniel trotted up, paws on Margarets knees, whining.
“Hello there, lost are you?” she murmured.
A womans voice called out.
“Winston! Where are you? Time to go home!”
The dog barked. A young womanEmilyapproached.
“Sorry about him, hes harmless.” Then, noticing the couple, “Have you been here long?”
“A while,” Victor said. “Lovely dog.”
“Why arent you home? Its freezingNew Years in an hour.”
Silence.
“You dont have anywhere to go?”
They shook their heads.
Emily hesitated. Winston refused to leave Margarets side.
“Were not staying here. Im already freezing, and you must be worse. Come with me.”
“Oh, love, we cant”
“No arguments. Its just me and Winston. Wed love the company.”
Reluctantly, they followed. Winston trotted ahead, tail wagging.
At her flat, warmth and the smell of roasting meat welcomed them. A Christmas tree twinkled in the corner.
Margaret helped set the table. Victor played with Winston. They welcomed the New Year with gratitudeEmily, too, glad not to be alone.
Come morning, she refused to let them leave. “Stay the week,” she insisted.
It felt rightlike family.
Days later, James returned, finding his grandparents gone.
“Mum, where are they?”
“How should I know? They left.”
“When? Why?”
“New Years Eve. We had guestsyou think wed celebrate with old folk around?”
“Disgusting. Youre the ones who should be ashamed.”
James stormed out, searching desperately.
Then he spotted a womanEmilywalking Winston. And on her hands, his grandmothers gloves.
“Where did you get those?”
She smiled. “You must be James.”
At her flat, he found them safe. Over tea and pancakes, they talked.
Emily convinced them to stay. James visited often.
Where once it was just Emily and Winston, the flat was now fullsmelling of home, Winston happily choosing whose bed to hog.
As for James and Emily? Thats another story.
Kindness is everything. Sometimes its just a smile, a question, a small act.
It always comes back.
