Samuel Whitaker had felt unwell since morning. His head spun strangely, and now and then, a blur clouded his vision. He had half-hoped not to wake up at all, but his stubborn body refused to give in. And now, his dear Sophie was gone
He sighed heavily.
A queue had formed at the supermarket checkout, and the delay made Samuel restless. The woman ahead of himelegant, well-dressed, even beautifulstood perfectly still. Her daughter had asked for oat milk, so shed stopped by. A bittersweet smile touched her lips. *Lets be honestyou didnt want to go home.* Lately, home had become unbearable. Not for lack of comfortthey had money, a lovely flatbut the warmth between her and Ben had vanished. Once, theyd laughed like that young couple behind her, whispering sweet nothings.
The scruffy rebel beside them, a tattoo peeking from his collar, draped an arm around his girlfriend. She wouldve been pretty if not for the heavy black eyeliner, dyed hair, and shaved templeher whole aesthetic screamed defiance. But her boyfriend only had eyes for her, breaking off bits of fresh baguette for her, stars in his gaze.
Samuels fingers fumbled with his worn-out wallet, coins clinking awkwardly. The cashier snapped at him*old men slowing everyone down*. He gave up, leaving without the expensive wholemeal bread. Sophie wouldve scolded him, but what did it matter now?
Theyd lived modestly, their pension barely stretching far. The flat was falling apartleaky taps, burst pipesand at his age, repairs were beyond him. Sophie had been his strength.
Theyd met during the war. Sophie, barely old enough to enlist, had lied about her age to serve as a nurse, dragging wounded soldiers from battlefields without hesitation. Samuel, a scout, was captured near the wars end, left for dead. Sophie found him, smuggled him out, even forged papers to protect him.
No childrenSophies health had been ruined by the war. Theyd left for England in the seventies when her illness worsened, fearing authorities, always living in the shadows. Even here, theyd faced suspicionsurvivors werent always welcomed.
And now, without Sophie, his days blurred into grey.
At the checkout, Samuels trembling hands dropped his coins. He muttered an apology, then slumped to the floor.
The elegant woman rushed to him, cradling his head. The rebel rolled his jacket under Samuels neck, his girlfriend dialled emergency services. The businessman in the queue fanned air at him.
*This countrysmall, proud, full of contradictionsnever turned its back on suffering.*
By the time paramedics arrived, the strangers had bonded. Smiles softened, gazes warmed.
Emily, a doctor, took charge. Samuel had merely forgotten his medication. She recorded his details and called the next day.
No one came to collect him. So Emily drove him homeand froze at the sight. A leaky bucket in the kitchen, peeling walls. The image haunted her.
The next evening, she knocked. No answerjust laughter inside. She stepped in, stunned. Samuel sat beaming in his armchair, while the young couple from the shop sat cross-legged before him, utterly entranced.
“Emily, dear, come in!” Samuel tried to rise, offering his seat.
Repairs began smallpaint, a new tap. But the old building crumbled under their efforts, snowballing into a full renovation.
Samuel protested, embarrassed, but his heart hadnt felt so light in years.
The rebel and his girlfriend scrubbed walls. The businessmanneighbourly, it turned outplastered cracks. Emily took leave from the hospital.
Then Ben arrivedEmilys husband, a corporate executiverolling up his sleeves. Hed barely listened when shed mentioned Samuel, yet here he was, barking orders, checking wiring.
Word spread. Colleagues painted walls; a cousin brought new windows. Neighbours donated tiles. Strangers delivered kitchen cabinets.
Emily glowed, taking her first holiday in years. Ben rushed over daily, stealing kisses, splashing paint like a schoolboy.
The rebel couple softenedshe washed off her makeup, revealing freckles; he traded defiance for exhaustion. Orphans from broken homes, they clung to Samuel like the grandfather theyd never had.
The businessman? A chess partner, a civil servant who secured Samuels full pension.
The youngsters scoured archives, restoring Samuels war recordshis medals, his honour.
“Easy there,” Ben teased Emily, fitting a new tap. “Next thing, youll drag me to Timbuktu to rebuild houses!”
A tea towel sailed past, catching the light like a scarlet saila dream fulfilled.
Outside, grocers bickered. Children shrieked. Cars honked.
But in the old soldiers flat, lives collided, destinies rerouted.
Because in this country, no ones sorrow goes unseen.
