There was once a lonely park keeper who found a telephone in the park. When she turned it on, she stood frozen, unable to move for a long while.
Martha Wilson had left for work earlier than usual. On weekends, the youngsters always left a mess behind, so she arrived at four in the morning to finish her duties. She had been a park keeper for many years now. Once, her life had been so different.
As she took up her broom, Martha thought of her beloved son, whom she had chosen to raise alone at thirty-five. She had never been lucky in love, so she devoted herself entirely to the boy. She adored her Tommy. He was bright, handsomeonly troubling was how much he disliked their neighbourhood.
“Mum, when I grow up, Ill be a proper gentleman!” he used to say.
“Of course you will, love. How could you not?” shed reply.
When Tommy turned sixteen, he left home, moving into a dormitory closer to his college. Martha didnt like him being so far away, but he promised to visit often.
At first, he did. Then he met a girl, and thoughts of home grew scarce. Then, one day, he returned for good, telling her he was gravely ill. Martha couldnt fathom why life had dealt them such a cruel hand.
She gathered her strength to fight. The doctor suggested treatment at a different hospital, but it would cost a fortune.
Without hesitation, the heartbroken mother sold her flat. One night, the call came.
“Im sorry, Mrs. Wilson. Your son is gone.”
Martha no longer wished to live. Without her boy, her world had lost all meaning.
One morning, as always, she went to sweep the park.
“Good morning!” called Mr. Simon Hart, walking his dog.
“Morning! Youre out early,” she replied.
“Ah, sitting about gets dull. Thought Id take the dog out and have a chat,” he said cheerfully.
Simon was a quiet bachelor. Martha felt a little shy under his attention.
“Right then, well leave you to it,” he said, continuing his stroll.
Martha returned to her workuntil she spotted something on the bench. A telephone. She glanced around; no one was nearby. Picking it up, she turned it on. Photos appeared on the screen. Someone must have left it behind. As she looked closer, she gasped.
“My boy! My Tommy!” she sobbed.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Startled, she answered.
“Hello! Hello! Thats my phonecan I get it back?” a womans voice asked.
“Yes, of course. I found it on the bench. Come to this address,” Martha replied, reciting her own.
The young woman arrived soon after. When the door opened, Martha saw a lad standing behind her.
“Where did you get these pictures of my son?” she asked.
“Tommys?” The girl looked puzzled.
The young man stepped forward.
“Tommy!” Martha criedthen fainted.
The lad rushed to her. “Whats wrong?”
“She must have mistaken you for someone. We should call an ambulance,” the girl said.
The medics arrived and brought Martha round. Once theyd gone, she finally learned how her sons photos had ended up on that phone.
Composing herself, she studied the girl.
“Do I know you? How did you have pictures of my Tommy?”
“My names Emily,” the girl said. “I used to see your son. But he left when he found out I was expecting.” She sighed heavily.
“He never mentioned you,” Martha said, bewildered.
“We were together a few months. When I told him, he vanished. I didnt chase himthought he was scared.”
“No, love. Now I understand. My boy was ill. He didnt want to be a burden to anyonenot even you. Hes been gone for years.” Tears welled in Marthas eyes.
Emilys face paled. “Gone?”
“He passed. I sold my home trying to save him, but it wasnt enough. We ran out of time.”
Emily exhaled slowly. “So he was protecting me.”
Then she turned to the lad. “James, come here.”
The boy stepped forward.
“Yes, Mum?”
“James, remember how I told you your father left us? That wasnt true. He was illhe died before you were born. And thisthis is your grandmother.”
Marthas heart swelled. She looked at her grandson, her eyes softening.
“Grandma,” James said shyly.
“Come here, love.” She embraced him.
Emily smiled. “Would you like to stay with us? Weve plenty of room.”
“Oh, no, dear. This neighbourhoods my home. But Ill visit often!”
Just then, a knock came at the door.
“May I?” Simon stood there, holding a bouquet. He handed it to Martha. “Fancy a stroll?”
“Id love to,” she said, smiling.
Emily and James peeked out from the kitchen.
“Can we come too?” they chimed.
“If you behave,” Simon teased.
Two months later, Martha Wilson became Mrs. Simon Hart. His dog, Duke, adored the new family members, often trotting beside James while his happy grandmother baked pies for them all.
