**Diary Entry**
My hands were still damp when I heard the hesitant knock at the door for the third time. Wincing at the ache in my back, I wiped them on my apron and shuffled over to answer. Id been cleaning the windows and hadnt made it in time earlier. On the other side stood a young woman, her eyes weary but her smile gentle.
Mrs. Eleanor, I was told you rent out rooms?
Oh, those nosy neighboursalways sending people my way! But I dont rent rooms, never have.
They said youve got three spare
So what if I do? I like my peace and quiet.
Im sorry. They mentioned you were religious, so I thought
She turned to leave, tears welling up.
Wait now, I didnt say you had to go! Young folks these daysso quick to cry. Come in, lets talk. Whats your name?
Philippa.
Lovely name Your father a sailor?
I never knew him. Grew up in an orphanage. No mother either. Just left on a doorstep as a baby, not even a month old.
Oh, dear heart, dont fret. Lets have some tea and a proper chat. Fancy a bite to eat?
No, I had a pastry earlier
A pastry! No wonder young people have stomach troubles by thirty. Sit down, have a proper bowl of vegetable soup. Then tea. Ive still got jars of jam from before my Henry passedfive years now. After that, you can help me finish the windows.
Mrs. Eleanor, could I do something else? I feel dizzyI dont want to fall. Im expecting.
Expecting?! Well, thats just the cherry on top! Married, are you?
Yes, to Lawrence. We grew up in the same orphanage. He was called up for military service. The landlady kicked me out when she found out about the babygave me a week to sort myself out. Had no choice but to leave.
Right then, tricky spot What am I to do with you? Suppose you could stay in the spare room. And dont you dare offer me rentthatll only vex me. Go fetch your things.
Theyre not far. Left them in the building next door. Week ran out this morning, been carrying my bags all day looking for a place.
And just like that, we became housemates. Philippa was studying to be a fashion designer, while I, retired after a railway accident, made lace to sell at the market. We made extra tending the garden, selling fruit and veg on weekends. Sundays, I went to church; Philippa stayed home, reading and replying to Lawrences letters, waiting eagerly for his return.
One Saturday, while preparing the garden for winter, Philippa, worn out, went inside to rest. I was burning dry branches when I heard her scream, Mum! Hurry! Heart pounding, I ran, forgetting the pain in my knees. Found her clutching her belly in pain. A neighbour rushed her to hospital in his old car. She moaned, terrified it was too soon.
I spent the night praying by the phone. Next morning, the hospital rangmother and baby were fine, but shed need weeks of bed rest.
While she recovered, I learnt more about Lawrence through long talks, touched by their love. Philippa showed me his photo, beaming, while I squinted through my outdated glasses, thinking him handsome.
On Christmas Eve, we prepared dinner, chatting about the Nativity, waiting for the first star. Philippa grew restless, then gasped, Call an ambulancethe babys coming!
On Twelfth Night, a little girl arrived, filling my heart with joy. I sent a telegram to Lawrence with the news. They named her Eleanora gesture that left me in tears.
Weeks passed in a haze of nappies and sleepless nights. Philippa and I doted on her, even when exhaustion set in. I found fresh energy, caring for the house and my granddaughter.
One winter afternoon, I returned from shopping to find Philippa in the garden, pushing the pram. I left them to it, starting lunch. In the parlour, I spotted a framed photo of my late Henry on the sideboard. Smiling, I called out, Philippa, whered you find this picture of my Henry?
I dont know what you mean, Mrs. Eleanor.
That one on the table I pointed.
Oh, thats Lawrence. I asked him for a proper photo next time I see him.
Stunned, I picked it up. The young man smiling back was the spitting image of Henry. Suddenly, it struck mehad fate brought family to my door without me knowing?
Philippa, let me see the album
Flipping through old photos, she gasped. Is that Lawrence?
With trembling hands, I explained the uncanny resemblanceperhaps they were kin, bound by some twist of fate. Tears streaming, she hugged me tight, and in that moment, we both knew: an unexpected family had found its way home.
**Lesson Learnt:** Life has a way of mending broken threads when we least expect it. Sometimes, family isnt just bloodits the hearts we choose to hold close.
