Young woman Lucy Preston lay in the hospital. First, shed had her appendix removed, but then something went wronga bit of inflammation, complicationsso they kept her in. Not that she had anywhere to rush off to anyway. She was signed off work, after all, so her job could wait. Back at the textile factorys shared accommodation where she lived, her roommate Daisy would be thrilled to have the place to herself a while longer. That meant her sweetheart Tony could visit anytime, even stay till morning.
Lucy herself didnt have anyone like that. She wasnt as striking as fair-haired Daisyquiet, reserved, maybe too much so for twenty-six. Life just hadnt quite worked out yet. Soon enough, Daisy would marry, and theyd stick someone new in Lucys room. Housing was tight at the factoryno new builds, but plenty of workers needed.
All this ran through Lucys mind as she gazed out the window at the blue sky, occasionally glancing at her elderly ward-mate, Edith Thompson. Edith slept most of the time, but when awake, theyd chat idly, sharing bits of their lives. Lucy told her how shed ended up aloneparents gone, older brother drinking away the family home before landing in jail for theft.
“Just me now, Edith,” Lucy sighed.
“No husband, then?” Edith asked, studying her. “Never?”
“Never. Like I saidjust me. Only friend Ive got is Daisy, and shell be married soon. What about you? Family?”
“Oh yes!” Edith said proudly. “No blood relatives left, but my boys are always round. Fix things, paint, help out if needed.”
Then she told a story that left Lucy baffled.
Turns out, Edith lived in an old house on the city outskirtsher parents place. Her husband had passed long ago, no children of their own. But aching for kids, shed taken in the local lads.
“Id bake pancakes or potato pies, call them all in. Theyd come runningfive or six round the table, wolfing it down. Their parents worked all hours at the factory nearby. Left to their own devices, they were.”
“Your husband didnt mind?”
“Oh, he grumbled. But theyd fetch water, stack firewoodsaved him the heavy work, so he put up with it.”
“Those same boys still visit? Must be grown nowstill help?”
“Course they do!” Edith beamed. “Bring their kids too. Some of the older ones pop round alone. Same pancakes, always ready. Theyve visited me here, you know.”
Lucy vaguely recalled a couple of visitors, but shed been too wrapped up in herself to notice.
“I havent got long, love,” Edith admitted suddenly. “Theres two lads leftTommy and Billy. Not exactly homeless, but close. Ones with his mum, the other his dad. Both parents work double shifts at the factory. Boys fend for themselves.”
“You feed them?” Lucy asked, surprised.
“More than that. They do homework here, help out. Otherwise, the streets wouldve taken them. Breaks my heart.”
Two days later, two boysTom and Willburst into the ward, followed by their parents: a sturdy, limping man and a woman worn thin from work and sleepless nights. Lucy, now mobile, slipped out to give them privacy.
When she returned, Edith was asleep, with fruit, biscuits, and a bottle of yoghurt on the bedside table.
Lucy stared at her, wondering how shed found the energy all these years to feed other peoples kids. Could she ever do the same? Then she remembered another ladtroublemaker Danny. His parents drank so much he sometimes slept rough until Edith took him in. His dad would storm over, shouting she was spoiling the boy, to keep away.
“But what could I do?” Edith had said. “Hed still run over, eat, helpfixed a shelf once when my back gave out. Said he wasnt there for the food, just to help.”
Shed paused, then added, “Boys feel more than some adults. Not greedy, not hardjust alone too much.”
Lucy was nearly ready for discharge, but Edith had stopped getting up entirely, fretting over the boys. Then another visitor arrived: a smart, handsome man with a leather briefcase. Lucy moved to leave, but Edith stopped her.
“This is my Eddie, practically raised him. Meet Lucy.”
She introduced herself and left. Handsome, that Eddie. Meanwhile, she was pale, thin from illnessnever a beauty, now worse, legs like twigs, hair a mess, the grey hospital gown hanging off her.
He stayed ages. Lucy pretended to read, catching his glances, flushing each time. Leaving, Eddie hugged Edith, then paused by Lucys bed.
“Pleasure meeting you,” he said. “Get wellIll visit again.”
Gone before she could reply. He returned the next day, left juice by her bed. Edith was asleep post-injection, so he left teary-eyed, asking Lucy to pass on his regards.
Come evening, Edith refused dinner, clutching Lucys hand.
“Listen close, love,” she whispered. “Eddies a solicitor. Last visit, I had him draw up the deeds for youtook your passport from the drawer, sorry. Live in my house. Nothing grand, but better than a shared room. Just promise: dont abandon the boys.”
Lucy froze, disbelieving.
“Three leftTommy, Billy, Danny. They need watching, or the streetsll take them, like your brother. Promise?”
Lucy broke down. “I wont leave them, Edith. Just stay with us longer.”
But Edith was already asleep, a quiet smile on her tired face.
Eddie collected Lucy when dischargedtwo days after losing Edith, having cried herself empty. He waited at the hospital doors, sombre. She felt no joy either, despite freedom.
They buried Edith with all her friends. Then came the legal transferEddie helped. Soon, Lucy moved into the house, this unexpected gift.
None of the boys visited at first, though Eddie dropped by. She asked him to introduce them, and one evening, he brought all three.
They became regulars. But how to keep her promise when she worked all day? Still, evenings were often spent together, especially rainy autumn ones. She brought pancakes from the factory canteencheese or mince-filled. They ate hungrily, watched telly, played Monopoly, then scampered home happy.
Eddie visited sometimes, having helped arrange the houses stamp dutymanageable. Lucys gratitude for his help quietly warmed into affection, though he didnt yet return it. Just a friend, for now.
Oddly, Dannys dad came toonot to shout, as he had at Edith, but to thank her for looking after his boy. “Just dont spoil him,” he warned, stern but not unkind.
***
So this was her new life. A home of her own, different people around her. Daisy married Tonythey visited once, bringing a friend, but Lucy paid him no mind. Her heart was elsewhere, unanswered but hopeful.
And she remembered Edith. Every corner of the warm house spoke of her. Lucy longed to be even a little like her, holding onto the memory of that kind, simple womanwhod left not just a house, but a legacy of kindness Lucy now wanted to share.
