-Who do you think you are?

Who are you? Mary Fairfax asked, stepping onto the gravel path with Thomas, eyes fixed on the newcomer.

Im here for Mary Fairfax, the young woman said, her voice trembling like a candle in a draft. Im her greatgranddaughter, the daughter of Albert, Marys eldest son.

Mary sat on a sunwarmed bench, soaking in the first warm days of spring. The season had finally arrived, though only one deity seemed to know how she had survived the previous winter.

Another winter cannot be endured, Mary thought, exhaling a sigh of relief. She was no longer afraid to move forward; she waited for the moment, her pantry already full of peas, her new dresses purchased.

Nothing could keep Mary in this world.

***

Once she had a bustling familyher husband, Frederick Sinclair, a tall, stoic man, and four children: three boys and a girl. They lived in harmony, helping one another, arguing only rarely. The children grew, one by one, and drifted off in different directions.

The two eldest sons entered university, then scattered to cities such as Manchester and Bristol for work. The middle child, a poor student, eventually built a thriving business that whisked him abroad, where he stayed. The daughter left the cottage for London, soon married, and set up a home of her own.

At first the children visited often, writing letters, then, with the advent of mobile phones, calling each other. Grandchildren followed in succession. Mary would occasionally pack an old, threadbare suitcase and travel to one of the childrens houses to babysit.

Gradually the grandchildren outgrew her care. Calls became rarer, visits even rarer. The thought of coming back to the old farmhouse faded into the backgroundwork, families, their own growing children took precedence.

The only reason the family gathered again was the news that Fredericks father had passed away. He had seemed a man who would live to a hundred, healthy and vigorous. In truth, fate proved otherwise.

After the funeral, the children dispersed. At first they phoned their mother, but the ringing soon ceased.

Mary tried to call herself, but felt the distance widening, and withdrew. That was how the next ten years passed. Once a year a child would remember her, ring, and she would smile to herself for a whole week.

One afternoon, as Mary rested on the same bench, a voice broke the quiet.

Good afternoon, Aunt Mary! a young man shouted from behind the garden fence, grinning widely. Do you remember me?

Mary narrowed her eyes.

Michael! Is that you?

Yes, Aunt Mary! he replied, stepping into the yard.

Michael was the son of the neighboring farmers, a boy who could not go a day without a meal. Mary remembered him as the everhungry child she fed from her own pantry, gave him the few shirts left over from her own children, and let him spend nights in her cottage when his parents hosted another revelry.

His parents did not live long. They vanished, and Michael was taken away to a place Mary never saw again. She missed him terribly.

Where have you been all this time, Michael? she asked, delighted.

First an orphanage, then I joined the navy, then I studied. Now Im back in the little countryside, ready to rebuild my native village, he said.

What will you rebuild? Mary waved her hand dismissively. Everyone has gone.

Nothing! I wont disappear!

And so a new chapter began for Mary. Michael found work with Mr. Ivan Hart, the biggest farmer in the valley. In his spare moments he patched up the old cottage he had inherited from his parents and never forgot Mary, helping her around the farm. Mary, in turn, cheered him up, never calling him son but treating him like a cherished guest. They lived together for three tranquil years.

Im leaving, Aunt Mary, Michael announced one morning, as if apologising. Hart has grown greedy, wanting work without paying. Ill go earn my keep elsewhere. Dont be offended.

Go with Gods blessing, Michael, Mary replied, her voice gentle.

Once more Mary found herself alone. At times loneliness pressed her to tears, and she drifted through the days waiting for an end that never came. Yet something always held her to this world.

****

Good afternoon, Aunt Mary! a familiar voice called again. Mary turned to the fence and saw a tall, welldressed young man.

Michael? Is it really you? she whispered.

Yes, Aunt Mary! he declared, entering the yard with a flourish. Im backcompletely back!

Oh, the joy! Mary exclaimed, bustling about. Come in, come in, Michael! Ill put the kettle on at once!

A kettle is perfect, Michael smiled. I just stepped out of town. I didnt expect to find you, so I didnt bring any treats.

Half an hour later the two sat at a wooden table, sipping tea from delicate antique cups, words spilling over each other like warm water.

Im ready to depart this world, Michael, Mary said, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Dont even think about it! he laughed, waving a finger. Ive earned enough money; Ill develop my own farm. Youll see, well live together, Aunt Mary, and everyone will be jealous of our happiness!

A bright, girlish voice interrupted their reverie.

Is anyone home? the voice chirped. Mary glanced out the window and saw a young woman in a short coat and highheeled shoes standing in the courtyard.

Who are you? Mary asked, stepping onto the path with Michael.

Im here for Mary Fairfax, the girl announced. Im her greatgranddaughter, Alberts daughter.

The woman and the boy exchanged a quick look.

I called, but the line was dead, so I decided to come on a whim, she explained.

Come in, dear! Mary said, a little flustered, while Michael hurried to help her with a suitcase.

Mary and Michael watched as Violet, the newcomer, set down a basket of provisions and began to talk about herself.

I dont like the city. I want to live in the village, but my parents dont understand. Grandfather Albert suggested I stay here for a few months. He said if I live in the countryside, the urge to return will fade. He called you, Father called, I calledbut the line never connected. Forgive me! Im not a freeloader; I have money, and my father and grandfather sent you an invitation. Ill stay until the exam periodI’m studying parttimeand then Ill go.

Stay as long as you wish, Mary finally said, smiling. Its all the same to me.

A month passed. Mary watched from her bench as Violet skillfully turned the soil, her hands moving as if the earth itself whispered secrets. It was hard to believe she came from the city.

With Michaels help, Violet revived the longneglected garden, dividing it into neat beds, erecting a greenhouse, and buying seedlings from neighbors. Together they planted everything with gusto.

Michael, meanwhile, used his earnings to begin constructing a modern farm. He hired workers to repair Marys roof and replace the old stove with a central heating system.

Marys face shone with happiness. She was no longer alone.

Only occasionally a shadow of sorrow fell over her when she thought of Violets impending departure. She had grown attached to her greatgranddaughter. Time, however, moved on, and Violet prepared to return to the city.

How will I manage the garden alone, Violet? Mary asked, packing a parcel of scones for her journey.

Just dont forget to fill the water barrel, Aunt Mary. Michael will keep the garden watered! Ill be back to visit, Violet laughed.

Youll really come back? Mary beamed.

Of course! I cant leave you completely. I love you, Aunt Mary, with all my heart. Michael even proposedan autumn wedding! What would I do without a husband? Hes a true country lad.

A year later Mary lounged in the sunshine, gently rocking a pram with a sleeping greatgreatgrandson. Violet and Michael tended the thriving farm, their combined effort breathing new life into the whole village.

Mary gazed at the peacefully sleeping infant and thought:

Never will I go to that other side. I still have so many children to help.

She smiled, feeling the dream settle like warm light on her heart.