Olivia had lived alone for years in a modest cottage on the edge of a small English village. Yet whenever someone called her lonely, shed chuckle and retort, Me? Not at allIve got a big family! The neighbours smiled politely, but behind her back they exchanged bemused glances, shaking their heads as if to say, Shes got no husband, no children, just a menagerie.
Olivia called that menagerie her family, and she paid no heed to the villagers expectations that a household should consist of a cow, a few chickens, perhaps a single dog for security and a cat to chase mice. She owned five cats and four dogs, and, as the locals liked to remark, they all lived inside the house rather than out in the garden where they belonged.
We never tried to argue with her; she would simply laugh and say, Come off it, theres no need to fuss. Were all happy together under one roof.
Five years earlier, Olivia had lost her husband and son in a single tragic accident. They were returning from a fishing trip when a lorry on the motorway swerved into oncoming traffic. The shock left her unable to stay in the flat that held too many reminders of those she loved, and the thought of walking the same streets and shopping in the same shops grew unbearable, not to mention the sympathetic looks from the neighbours.
Six months later she sold the flat, packed up her cat Misty, and moved to a tiny village, buying a house on its outskirts. In the summer she tended a garden; when winter set in she took a job in the village community centres kitchen. Over time she brought each of her animals homesome had begged at the railway station, others had wandered into the kitchen looking for scraps.
Thus a solitary woman assembled a sizeable family of kindred souls, each once alone and bruised by life. Olivias warm heart mended their wounds, and they returned the affection in kind. There was plenty of love and warmth for everyone, and, though food was sometimes scarce, they managed. Olivia knew she couldnt keep rescuing more creatures forever, and she kept promising herself, No more, ever.
In March, after a spell of bright, sunny days, Februarys bitter cold rolled back in, laying a sharp blanket of snow over the lanes, chilling the night with a fierce wind. Olivia hurried to catch the last evening coacha sevenhour ride to her village. With two days off ahead, she stopped after work, bought provisions for herself and her furry brood, and hefted the heavy bags from the kitchen, both arms straining.
She reminded herself of the promise shed made and tried not to look around, focusing instead on the animals waiting at home, letting those thoughts keep her warm. But, as the old saying goes, the heart sees what the eyes miss, and it made her pause just ten metres from the coach.
A dog lay curled under a bench, its gaze vacant, almost glassy, snow dusting its fur. Passersby hurried past, scarves and hoodies pulled tight. Did no one notice? Olivias heart clenched painfully; the promise and the bus vanished from her thoughts. She sprang to the bench, tossed her bags aside, and reached for the dog, which blinked slowly.
Thank heavens youre alive, she breathed. Come on, love, get up, follow me.
The dog didnt move, but it didnt fight either when she tried to lift it. It seemed resigned, as if it were ready to give up on the world. Later Olivia could barely recall how she trudged back to the coach depot, two heavy bags in one hand and the shivering dog in the other. Inside, she settled in the far corner of the waiting room, gently rubbing the thin creatures frostbitten paws.
Come on, sweetheart, pull yourself togetherwe still have a way home. Youll be the fifth dog in our pack, just to make the numbers even, she whispered. She offered a piece of meat from her bag; at first the dog refused, but after a moment of warming up it took the bite, its nose twitching and eyes brightening.
An hour later they were still on the road, the coach long gone. Olivia fashioned a makeshift collar from her belt, though the dogshed named Mollyalready trotted close to her, pressed against her boots. Ten minutes later, astonishingly, a car pulled over and the driver opened the door.
Oh, thank you! Dont worry, Ill put the dog on my lap; she wont soil the seat, Olivia blurted.
Its fine, the driver replied, a middleaged man with a gentle smile. Let her sit on the seat, shes not that small.
Molly squeezed onto Olivias knees, still trembling, and somehow fit.
Just its warmer like this, Olivia said, smiling.
The driver nodded, glanced at the makeshift collar, and turned up the heater a notch. They drove on in quiet, Olivia cradling the nowcozy Molly, watching the snowflakes flash past the headlights. The driver stole occasional glances at the womans profile, noting her tired yet content expression.
He dropped them off at Olivias cottage and helped carry the bags. The snowdrift was so deep the old gate creaked under his push, its rusted hinges finally giving way and the gate collapsing flat.
Never mind, Olivia sighed. Its about time we repaired it.
From inside came a chorus of barks and meows. Olivia hurried to the front door, flung it open, and her whole family spilled out into the yard.
Well, you didnt lose me, did you? Here I am, where else could I be! Meet the newest member
Molly peered timidly from behind her rescuers legs. The other dogs wagged their tails, sniffing the bags the driver still held.
Come on in, if youre not scared of a big family. Want some tea? Olivia called.
The driver set the bags down but lingered at the threshold.
Its late; Im off. Youll feed them, theyve been waiting for you, he said and drove away.
The next afternoon a muffled thump echoed from the yard. Olivia pulled on her coat and stepped outside to find the driver from the day before, hammering fresh hinges onto the broken gate, tools spread around him.
Good afternoon, he said, wiping his hands. Im Victor, by the way. I broke the gate yesterday, thought Id come back and fix it.
Olivia, she replied.
The tailwagging brood sniffed him curiously as he crouched to give them a pat.
Olivia, dont linger, get inside. Ill be finished soon, and I wont say no to a cup of tea. Theres even a slice of cake in the car, plus a few treats for your big family. Olivia smiled, the kind of smile that started in her eyes and spread like warmth through a room. Then youd better come in when youre done, Victor. The kettles always on, and theres always room at the table. She watched him for a moment, this quiet man who had returned to mend what hed broken, then turned back to the house where Molly sat in the doorway, no longer trembling, already belonging. The dogs barked softly in greeting as the scent of tea and cake began to drift through the air, and for the first time in years, the cottage felt not just full, but whole.
