In a quiet corner of London, many years ago, there lived a woman named Margaret Wilkins. Her husband, Edward, had grown increasingly irritable with age, finding fault in every little thingthe neighbors, the children playing in the square, even Margaret herself.
One afternoon, as Margaret sat knitting in her parlour, their neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, peeked through the slightly open door. “Margaret, dear, might you have a bit of milk to spare? My granddaughters come to visit, and Ive porridge to make.”
“Of course,” Margaret said, setting aside her needles. “Take the whole bottletheres another in the icebox.”
Mrs. Higgins nodded gratefully, but as she turned to leave, Edwards voice growled from the sitting room: “Whos that traipsing in and out as if this were her own home?”
Margaret flushed. Lately, Edward had become so cross, so unlike the kind man shed married thirty years before.
“Forgive him, Agnes,” she whispered. “Hes tired from work.”
“Oh, dont fret, dear,” Mrs. Higgins waved a hand. “Men are all the same. Thank you for the milk.”
When the door closed, Margaret returned to the sitting room. Edward pretended to read the paper, ignoring her.
“Why must you be so unkind?” she asked. “Agnes is a good woman. Weve been friends for years.”
“*Your* friend, not mine,” he muttered. “And why must she always be begging for something? First sugar, then salt, now milk. Cant she manage her own household?”
“What harm does it do? Weve enough to spare.”
“Its not about the shillings. Give em an inch, theyll take a mile.”
Margaret held her tongue. Arguing was pointless.
Later, the telephone rang sharply. Margaret lifted the receiver.
“Hullo?”
“Aunt Margaret?” A young womans voice trembled. “Its Charlotte.”
“Charlotte, love! How are your studies?”
“Aunt Margaret, Im in trouble. May I come stay with you? Just for a few days?”
“Of course, dear. Whats happened?”
“Mum and Dadtheyve divorced. Dads brought some woman home, and Mums gone to Grandmothers in Yorkshire. Ive nowhere to go. My exams are soon, and”
Margarets heart clenched. Charlotte, her brothers bright, sweet girlleft adrift.
“Come at once, dear. Weve the sofa in the parlour.”
When she hung up, Edward scowled. “Whats this now?”
“Charlottes coming. My brothers daughter. Her parents have splitthe poor girls stranded.”
“And what, weve nothing better to do? I come home to rest, not mind someone elses brat.”
“Edward! Shes family!”
“Family or not, their troubles arent ours. I wont have strangers underfoot.”
“Shes not a stranger! Shes a good girltop of her class!”
“And how long will that last? A week? A year? Once theyre in, youll never be rid of em.”
Margaret stared at him, unrecognizing. The Edward shed married would never have turned away a soul in need.
“Very well,” she said quietly. “Ill tell her we cant take her.”
“Good,” Edward snapped, returning to his paper.
That evening, Margaret stood at the kitchen window, watching children play in the square. Somewhere in Manchester, Charlotte packed her things, hoping for refuge.
She dialed the number.
“Charlotte, love Its justweve no room. Might you find somewhere else?”
A long silence. Then: “I see. Thank you for considering it.”
The line went dead. Margaret clutched the receiver, weeping.
The next day, Mrs. Higgins called. “Margaret, what was all that shouting last night? I heard Edward carrying on about Charlotte.”
Margaret sighed. “Her parents divorced. Shed asked to stay, but Edward refused.”
“And wheres the girl to go?”
“Lord knows.”
“Margaret Wilkins,” Mrs. Higgins huffed, “since when do you let that man decide who steps through *your* door?”
Margaret paused. When *had* she surrendered her voice in her own home?
That evening, Edward stormed in, fuming over a withheld bonus at work. Margaret served supperpea soup and shepherds piebut he only sneered. “Pie *again*? Cant you make something new?”
Later, she dared: “Edward, might we reconsider Charlotte? Shes no trouble”
“Enough!” he barked. “My word is final.”
But two days later, Charlotte arrived unannounced, suitcase in hand. “Aunt Margaret, Ive nowhere else.”
Edward erupted. “Out! This instant!”
Margaret stepped between them. “She stays.”
“Then *I* go,” Edward snarled, hauling a valise to his mothers in Kent.
The house bloomed in his absence. Charlotte helped cook, tidy, and chattered over tea. When Edward phoned, demanding Charlottes expulsion, Margaret refused.
A month later, Charlotte secured a position at an advertising firm and a flat with classmates. Edward returned, smug. “Now well live properly again.”
Margaret set down her teacup. “Properly? Youd have cast a child onto the streets.”
Edward faltered. Perhaps he *had* grown hard.
“Margaret Ill try to do better.”
She smiled faintly. For the first time in years, hope flickered.
