Granny gave the man money for the bus. Later, uninvited guests showed up at her door.
Molly had spent her whole life as a schoolteacher, but now she was forced to sell vegetables at the market because her pension was so small. Her son-in-law had moved his new wife into their flat, and her daughter, Emma, had come back home with her child. Molly did whatever she could to help them.
“Mum, I feel awful making you do thisout in the garden all day, then at the market,” Emma sighed. “You should be resting.”
“Dont you worry, love. While Ive still got strength, Ill help you and little Rosie. Youre not sitting idle eitherhalf the gardens been weeded in just a couple of days! I couldnt have managed that alone,” Molly replied. “Besides, Rosie needs new shoes for school. Cant have her turning up in scuffed ones, can we?”
And so they carried on, leaning on each other, believing that one day, their luck would turn. Of course, if Emma could just “climb the ladder” a bit, life wouldnt be so hard.
One morning, Molly headed off to sell her produce. She had a decent spot, and customers were flocking to her stall. Other traders noticed, including an old acquaintance, Linda, who swooped in and took her place.
“Sleeping in, were you? Sorry, loveIve nabbed your spot. Itll take me an hour to pack up and another to set up, so youll have to find somewhere else today,” Linda announced.
Molly wasnt one for arguments. She just moved a little further down, laying out her goods. As it turned out, her neighbour Tracy was set up nearby.
“Hows your son-in-law? Still gone?” Tracy asked.
“Still gone,” Molly sighed. “Hes got his own life now.”
“Kids these daysno interest in family, just living for themselves. Mines still not married, off hiking mountains every weekend,” Tracy tutted.
Time flew as they chatted. After lunch, a young man in odd clothes wandered into the market.
“Blimey, hes been inside, hasnt he?” Linda muttered, and the other traders shot nervous glances his way.
The man walked straight to Mollys stall, dug into his pockets, and asked, “Miss, Im skint. Any chance youd spot me a couple of apples?”
“Take them, love. Whys a lad like you got no money?” she said, shrugging.
“Just got out of well, lets say not the nicest place. Dont worry, Im no murderer. Got into a row with my missus, ended up inside.”
“Cant your family help? Whyre you making your way back alone?”
“They could. Just too proud to call. Wanna surprise em.”
“How far you going?”
“Manchester.”
“Thats a trek!”
He wandered off brieflythe train station was just past the market. Molly watched as he spoke to a driver, then came back.
“Miss, lend us a bit? Wont see home otherwise. Swear Ill pay you back once Im sorted,” he pleaded, eyes desperate.
“How much?”
“Fifty quid.”
Ignoring the scandalised looks from the other traders, Molly handed him the note.
“Cant have you walking all that way. Here.”
“Thank you! Ill pay you backPauls the name. And yours?”
“Molly.”
“Cheers, Molly!” He hurried toward the bus.
“You daft woman! Youll never see that money again!” Tracy huffed.
“Weve got to help each otherwere not animals,” Molly said firmly.
“That one is. Ex-cons an ex-con, anywhere in the world!”
Molly waved her off and started packing up.
By the weekend, Emma was down with a fever. Molly gathered herbs from the garden, doing her best to nurse her.
That evening, Rosie ran in with a book, tugging Mollys sleeve. “Granny, read me a story?”
“Course, love,” Molly smiled, ruffling her hair.
Outside, rain poured. As the fire crackled, Emma set the table for supper. Thena knock at the door.
The women exchanged glances. They werent expecting anyone!
“Hello?” A man stepped in. Molly squintedthen recognised him.
“Paul?”
“Yeah, its me, Molly. Sorry I didnt pay you back sooner. Lifes been complicated.”
“Wouldnt have known you! Look at yousuit, clean-shaven, proper gent!”
“Join us for supper,” Emma offered, flushing slightly.
Over the meal, Paul explained how hed been wrongly sentencedthree whole years!
“Back as head nurse at the clinic now, so if you ever need anything, just pop by,” he finished, smiling at Emma.
A week later, a familiar car pulled up outside Mollys. Out stepped Paul, clutching a huge bouquet.
“Love, look out the window! Your beaus here,” Molly teased, peeking through the curtains. “Reckon well hear wedding bells soon?”
“Well then,” Emma laughed, hugging Rosie close. Paul stepped up to the door, not with flowers, but with a folder full of paperstenants notices, sorted and stamped. “Landlords selling up,” he said. “But I made a call. My clinics expanding. They need a caretaker and a market garden for therapy sessions. Figured youd be perfect, Molly.”
Emma stared, then grinned through tears. “You didnt.”
“I did. Names on the lease by Friday. Youre not just surviving anymoreyoure staying.”
That night, Rosie drew a picture: Granny Molly in a wide hat, planting beans beside a man in a suit holding a watering can. Underneath, she wrote, *Our new beginning*.
The garden grew fuller every week. And sometimes, after work, Paul and Emma walked through it together, laughing, while Molly watched from the porch, sipping tea and saying nothing at all.
