Emma had nowhere to go. Not a single address, not even a bench. I could spend a couple of nights on the platform. And then? Suddenly a lifeline flashed through her mind: The cottage! How could I have forgotten? Thoughcottage sounds grander than it is, a halfruined garden hut. Still, better that than the station, she reasoned.
She boarded the commuter train, pressed her cheek against the frosty window and closed her eyes. Heavy memories rushed back. Two years earlier her parents had died, leaving her alone and penniless. With no money for tuition she quit university and took a job selling baby food at the market.
After that bleak stretch, fortune finally smiled. Emma met James, a kindly, respectable fellow. Two months later they exchanged modest vows in a tiny chapel.
Life, however, liked to keep the plot twisty. James suggested they sell the citycentre flat they’d inherited and start a business together. He painted the future so vividly that Emma had no doubts; she was sure they would soon be free of money worries. Once were on our feet we can think about a baby. I cant wait to be a mum, the dreamy Emma whispered to herself.
The venture flopped. Arguments about the money that kept blowing away turned their relationship sour. Soon James swaggered home with another woman, pointed the door at Emma and left her standing there.
At first Emma thought of calling the police, but then realised she had no crime to accuse James of. She had sold the flat herself and handed the cash over to him
Stepping out onto the deserted platform, Emma trudged along as early spring draped the town in a chilly pall. The cottage season hadnt even started; the plot had grown wild and was in a sorry state after three neglected years. No matter, Ill tidy it up and itll be like before, she mused, though before was already a memory.
She easily found the key hidden under the porch, but the wooden door had swollen and stubbornly refused to budge. She strained at it, to no avail, and finally plonked down on the step, tears streaming.
A wisp of smoke and a faint clatter rose from the neighbouring plot. Relieved to hear neighbours, Emma hustled over and called, Aunt Ray! Are you home? She froze when a scruffy elderly man appeared, tending a modest fire in a battered tin mug.
Who are you? Wheres Aunt Ray? Emma asked, stepping back.
Dont mind me, the man said in a surprisingly smooth baritone, and please, no need to dial the police. Im not up to any mischief. I live out here in the yard.
Emma, feeling oddly polite, asked, Are you homeless?
Indeed, the man replied softly, averting his eyes. Do you live nearby? I wont be a bother.
Whats your name?
Arthur.
Your surname? Emma prompted.
Jameson, he answered, a hint of surprise flickering through him.
Emma stared at Arthur Jameson. His clothes were threadbare but clean enough, and he kept himself in decent shape for his years.
I dont know who to turn to for help, she sighed heavily.
Whats happened? he asked kindly.
My door is stuck I cant get it open.
If you like, Ill have a look, Arthur offered.
Id be grateful! Emma exclaimed, desperation in her voice.
While the old man fumbled with the swollen plank, Emma sat on the bench, pondering, What right do I have to judge him? Im practically homeless myself; our plights mirror each other.
Arthur smiled, gave the door a gentle shove and said, Ready to spend the night?
Yes, where else? Emma laughed, surprised.
Is there heating in the house?
There should be a stove Emma blurted, realizing she knew nothing about it.
Got it. Any firewood?
Im not sure, she admitted.
Fine. Go inside, Ill sort something out, he said decisively and disappeared from the yard.
Emma spent the next hour cleaning a cold, damp, uninviting house. She was disheartened, doubting she could stay there long. When Arthur returned with a bundle of logs, Emma felt a flicker of warmthliterally and figuratively.
He cleared out the old stove, lit the fire, and within an hour the room glowed with heat.
The stoves lit, just toss in a few more logs now and then. Keep it going overnight and itll stay warm till morning, Arthur explained.
Where are you off to? The neighbours? Emma asked.
Ill pop over to them. Dont hold it against me if I spend a night or two on my own plot. Im not keen on heading back to the city, reliving the past.
Arthur Jameson, wait. Lets have dinner, a cup of tea, then you can go, Emma said firmly.
He shrugged off any protest, slipped off his coat and settled by the stove. Emma began, Im sorry to intrude You dont look like a typical tramp. Why are you out here? Wheres your home, your family?
Arthur told her his life had been spent lecturing at a university. Hed devoted his youth to academia, fallen in love with research, and only in old age did loneliness creep up. A year earlier his niece Lucy started dropping by, hinting shed help him if he left his flat to her. He gladly agreed.
Lucy, gaining his trust, suggested selling the cramped city flat and buying a solid house in the suburbs with a nice garden and a gazebo. Shed already found a bargain. Arthur, dreaming of fresh air and peace, signed the deal without a second thought. After the sale, Lucy urged him to open a bank account so he wouldnt have to keep large sums on him.
Uncle Arthur, sit on the bench while I sort things. Ill take a bag in case anyones watching us, Lucy whispered at the banks entrance.
She disappeared into the bank, Arthur waitedan hour, two, threewhile the door stayed shut. When he finally stepped inside, the lobby was empty, and a side exit led to a back alley.
Arthur couldnt believe his own blood could be so cruel. He sat on a bench, waiting for Lucy, who never returned. The next day he knocked on her door, only to be greeted by a stranger who explained Lucy had moved away years ago; shed sold the flat two years prior.
What a dreary tale, Arthur sighed. Since then Ive been sleeping on the streets. I still cant fathom that I have no home.
Emma, seeing a kindred spirit, shared her own story. Its terriblelifes thrown us both into a mess. I left university, lost my flat, but dont give up. Every problem has a solution. Youre young; things will get better, Arthur tried to reassure her.
What about all this gloom? Emma laughed. Lets have dinner!
She watched Arthur wolf down noodles and sausages with gusto, feeling a pang of sympathy for the lonely man. How terrifying it must be, to be completely alone on the street, feeling useless, she thought.
Emma, I can help you get back into university. I still have plenty of old contacts. Ill write to the rector, and you can meet my old friend Konstantinhell sort you out, Arthur offered. I cant exactly show up as a former professor in this state, but a letter will do.
Thank you! That would be brilliant, Emma beamed.
Thanks for the meal and for listening, Arthur said, rising. Its getting late.
Wait, where are you off to? Thats not very nice, Emma whispered.
Dont worry. I have a modest shelter on the next plot. Ill swing by tomorrow, he replied with a smile.
Dont go outside. I have three roomy bedrooms here. Take whichever you like. Honestly, Im scared of that stoveI dont understand it at all. You wont abandon me, will you?
Never, he promised solemnly.
Two years later Emma aced her exams and, thrilled for the summer break, headed home. She still lived in a university hall but escaped to the countryside on weekends.
Hello there! she shouted, hugging Arthur warmly.
Emma! My dear! Why didnt you call? Id have met you at the station. How did the exams go? he chuckled.
Great! Almost everything top marks! she bragged. I even bought a cake. Put the kettle on, well celebrate!
Over tea they swapped news.
Ive planted grape vines. Ill put up a gazebo over there; itll be cosy, Arthur said proudly.
Lovely! Youre the master of this placedo as you wish. I come, I go, Emma laughed.
Arthur was transformed. He was no longer a lonely wanderer; he had a home, a granddaughter he called Emma, and a new purpose. Emma felt grateful to fate for sending her a grandfatherfigure who filled the parental void and stood by her in the toughest moments.
