“Mary! Quick! Ive just seen your daughter-in-law at the chemistsshe was buying rat poison. Two packets! Said there were mice. But I know full well youve none in that house!” Marys legs nearly gave way beneath her. So that was her planto clear the house for herself.
“Baron, my dear old friend,” she sighed, stepping into the yard with a bowl of porridge. “Its just you and me left in this wide world now.”
The dog lifted his head, licked her hand gratefully, and set to his meal. Mary Whitcombe was sixty-five but carried herself like a woman ten years youngerstrong, upright, her silver hair neatly pinned. Only her eyes betrayed the sorrow shed endureda deep, aching grief that made it painful to meet her gaze.
Six months ago, her son Edward had been killed in a motorbike accident. Hed bought the machine for his fortieth birthdaya lifelong dream, hed said. Mary had begged him not to, but how could a mother refuse her only child? And then, a month later, the call from the hospital. A sharp bend, a loss of control.
After the funeral, his wife Natalie took little Andrew and went back to her parents in the city. At first, shed let Mary speak to the boy on the phone, but the calls grew fewer, then stopped altogether. Mary had tried to insist on visitsshe had rights, after all. But Natalie always had an excuse: the child was ill, she was too busy. Then one day, the number no longer worked. Mary went to the addressneighbours said the flat had been sold, and the family had moved away. No one knew where.
“Oy, Mary!” came a voice over the garden fence. “Still with us?”
It was Peter Wilson, the lively seventy-year-old widower next door. He and Marys late husband had been close, and since his passing, Peter had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on her.
“Still here, Peter. Where else would I be?” She managed a smile. “Come in for tea.”
“No time for that now,” he said, waving a hand. “Off to townpharmacy and the shops. Need anything?”
“No, thank you. Ive all I need.”
“Suit yourself. But you cant stay cooped up like an old owl, Mary. Lifes for living.”
Once hed gone, Mary returned inside. The hallway walls were lined with photographsher whole life laid bare. There she was, young and radiant on her wedding day; little Edward taking his first steps; then Edward as a man, with Natalie and baby Andrew. All of them smiling. All of them happy.
She sighed heavily and went to the kitchen. The day stretched endlessly before her. She turned on the television but couldnt focuseverything seemed alien and pointless. She tried knitting, but her hands wouldnt obey. In the end, she went to bed early, hoping sleep would bring relief.
“Mother! Mother!”
Marys eyes flew open. There stood Edwardyoung, smiling, wearing that checked shirt shed given him for his birthday.
“Edward!” she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. “My boy!”
“Dont cry, Mother. I came to warn you. Be careful. Evil is closevery close. Keep safe.”
“What do you mean? What evil? Edward!”
But he was already fading into the dawn mist. Mary woke in tears. Outside, the first light crept over the fields, and the distant crowing of roosters filled the air. The dream had been so realas if Edward had truly visited her.
She rose, splashed her face with cold water, and stepped outside. The morning air was crisp and clear. Beyond the river, mist curled off the meadows. So beautiful it made her heart ache.
“Granny Mary! Granny Mary!”
A girl of about nine came running to the gateLucy, the granddaughter of Marys late friend. Lucys parents had died in a car crash two years before, and shed been living in the local childrens home ever since. Mary visited often, bringing treats and helping with her lessons.
“Lucy, love! What brings you so early?”
“Were off potato picking at the farm. I came to say goodbyewont be back for a week.”
“Wait there.” Mary hurried inside and returned with a parcel. “Herepies with cabbage, apples from the garden, and some sweets. Share them with the others.”
“Thank you!” Lucy hugged her tightly. “I love you so much!”
“I love you too, child. Take care.”
As Lucy ran off, Mary watched until she was out of sight. How often shed thought of taking the girl in! But a lone elderly woman stood no chance with the adoption board. They wanted a proper familystable income, medical checks. What family did she have left?
The day passed in quiet choresweeding the garden, feeding the chickens, preparing supper. By evening she was exhausted and went to bed early. And again, the dream came.
This time, Edward stood by the gate, waving frantically as if to stop someone.
“Dont let her in!” he cried. “Mother, dont let her in the house! Danger!”
Mary woke to a sharp knocking. The clock read half-ten at night. Who could be calling so late?
“Whos there?” she called, not opening the door.
“Mary Whitcombe, its meNatalie. Please, let me in!”
Her former daughter-in-law? Mary opened the door in surprise. There stood Nataliedishevelled, clutching a large bag, her clothes crumpled.
“Sorry to come so late. Theres been a firethe house is gone. I barely got out.”
“Good Lord! And Andrew? Where is he?”
“With my parents. Theyve taken him to the seaside. Mary, pleasecould I stay here? Just for a little while, till I sort something out.”
Mary studied her closely. Natalie had never been warm toward her, and after Edwards death, shed made every effort to avoid her. Yet here she was, in the dead of night.
*Dont let her in!* Edwards words echoed in her mind.
But how could she turn away someone in needeven a woman like Natalie?
“Come in,” Mary said at last. “You can have Edwards old room.”
The first few days, Natalie kept to herselfhelped with chores, cooked meals, even did a bit of shopping. Mary began to think shed misjudged her. Perhaps grief had softened her heart?
“Its so peaceful here,” Natalie remarked over supper one night. “No noise, no rush. The citys unbearable compared to this.”
“Theres room enough,” Mary said. “Stay as long as you need.”
But after a week, Natalies manner changed. She stopped helping, lazed about with her phone, demanded special meals.
“Mary, could we move the telly to my room? Its a bother coming out here every time.”
“Take the one from my bedroom. I never watch it.”
“Oh, andhave you checked the house deeds lately? Just in case theres some mistake. I could helpI used to work in a solicitors office.”
Mary stiffened. Why would Natalie care about the deeds?
“No need. Everythings in order.”
Natalie pursed her lips and retreated to her room. That night, Edward came to Mary again in a dream.
“Mother, she means you harm. Be careful. Dont eat or drink anything she prepares. Stay safe.”
“Edward, what should I do? How can I make her leave? Shes Andrews mother!”
“Andrew is safe. *You* are not. Remember my words.”
Mary woke with a heavy head. Natalie was already in the kitchen.
“Morning! Ive made porridge and coffee. Come and eat.”
“Thank you, but Ill feed the chickens first.”
Outside, Marys thoughts swirled. Was Natalie truly plotting something? Then Peter appeared at the fence.
“Morning, neighbour! Youve gone quiet.”
“Just thinking.”
“Heard your daughter-in-laws back. How is she?”
“Staying for now. Says her house burned down.”
Peter frowned. “Odd. I was in town yesterdayran into Tom Briggs, who works at that firm where Natalie used to be. Says she was sacked six months backfor theft.”
“And there was no fire. Shed been living with some bloke who kicked her out. Thats why shes turned up here.”
Mary went cold. So the dreams *had* been warnings. Edward had been right.
“Thank you for telling me, Peter.”
“Be careful, Mary. Lord knows whats in her head.”
The next few days, Mary stayed watchfulcooking her own meals, keeping an eye on Natalie, who grew bolder by the day. She rearranged the house as if it were hers, invited friends over.
“Mary, this place is huge. You could let rooms to lodgersearn a bit of extra.”
“I dont need
