Oksana and Her Mother Sat on an Old Bed, Both Bundled Up in Warm Clothes. Outside, Winter Raged as the Stove Just Began to Heat the House.

Charlotte and her mother-in-law sat huddled on an old bed, both wrapped up warm against the winter chill. The cottage had only just had the fire lit, and the icy air still lingered.

“Dont worry, Mum,” Charlotte said, trying to sound reassuring. “Well be alright. We wont starve. Here, let me give you your medicine.”

She did her best to comfort the older womanthough, strictly speaking, this wasnt her mother but her ex-mother-in-law. Almost ex, anyway.

The three of them had lived together once: the mother, her son, and Charlotte, his wife. Charlotte had married late, at thirty. She was Denniss second wife, though she hadnt broken up his first marriagetheyd only gotten together after his divorce.

His mother, Margaret, had taken to her straight away. And Charlotte had adored Margaret in returnwarm, kind, the sort whod hug you and listen when you needed it. Having lost her own parents young, Charlotte had found family in her.

“Thick as thieves,” Dennis used to say about them.

Five years of marriage passed in a blink. Then Dennis turned sharp-tempered, snapping at Charlotte and his mother alike. The reason? A mistress, of course. Hed come home late, stinking of drink.

One day, he announced he was leaving. Gave her two days to pack. Before Charlotte could even leave, his new woman showed up with a suitcase.

Maybe shed timed it deliberatelywanted to gloat at the wife she was replacing. If so, it backfired. She was all legs, bleach-blonde, with lips like a goldfish and lashes so thick she could barely blink.

Charlotte couldnt help but laugh. “You traded me for this cow-eyed doll? Well, good luck to you. Im not even sorry.”

“But shes fun,” Dennis retorted. “You and Mum are like a pair of old hens.”

“Fine, insult mebut why drag your mother into it?”

“Sweetie,” the blonde squeaked, batting those ridiculous lashes, “is his mum staying with us? She can take her. We dont need her, do we, darling?”

“Thats right, Mum. Time to go,” Dennis said flatly.

“Where? I gave you all the money from selling my flat so you could build this house!” Margaret clutched her chest.

“Just spare me the dramatics. You can stay, but keep to your room. Albinas in charge now.”

“Baby, make them both leave!”

“Shes my mother!”

“Yours? So Im stuck with her as my mother-in-law? Ugh, no!”

Charlotte had heard enough. “Mum, come with me to the countryside.”

“Better there than with a son like this and that creature.”

“Sit tight. Ill pack your things.”

“Dont forget my medicine. And my trinket box. And my handbag.”

Charlotte hauled out a suitcase, tossing in essentialsmedicine, documents, clothes, the trinket box.

“Take everything,” Albina chirped. “We dont want your junk.”

Dennis just watched, silent. He knew his mother would never forgive him. Or maybe she wouldmothers did that.

Half an hour later, Charlotte stood by the car. Margaret sat inside, wiping tears without so much as a glance back at her son.

Hard to swallow, giving your all to someone only to be thrown away.

“How will we manage, love?” Margaret whispered.

“Well be fine. Ive savings. Your pension. Enough for bread and butter.”

They drove to the village where Charlotte had spent her childhood. Luckily, it was still daylight. The cottage was freezing, but Charlotte got the fire going, boiled water for tea.

“Youve done this before,” Margaret remarked.

“Grandad taught me. Good thing we brought foodno need to face village gossip yet.”

As the cottage warmed, Charlotte promised, “Ill clean properly tomorrow.”

A knock at the door.

“Back for a visit?” A gruff voice. “Saw your car. Winters a strange time to turn up. Trouble?”

“All sorted, Uncle Colin. Ill explain later. Fancy some tea?”

“Was about to invite you myself. Youre not alone?” He spotted Margaret.

“This is Margaret. Margaret, this is Colin.”

“Give a shout if you need anything.”

“Nothing yet. Ta.”

A week passed. The cottage was spotless, cosy.

“Im village-born too, you know,” Margaret confessed one evening. “Married a city man. He died when Dennis was twenty-three. I sold the flathe promised Id always have a home with him. Look how that turned out.”

“Dont cry. Its rotten, I know. Maybe youll still get grandchildren.”

“From that one? God forbid. What about Colin? Any family?”

“None. His wife drowned saving a neighbours kid. Never remarried. No children. Been alone since. Knew my grandadyounger than him, though hes your age.”

A month later, still no word from Dennis. Then Charlottes phone rangunknown number.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

“Your husbands dead.”

“Youve got the wrong person.”

“No mistake. Dennis crashed his cardrunk. The girl with him walked away without a scratch. Come identify him.”

Oh God. Poor Margaret. How to tell her? Uncle Colinhed help.

“Charlotte, youre white as a sheet!”

“Sit down, Mum. Dennis is gone.”

Margaret wailed. “My fault! I left him!”

“He threw you out!”

“But Im his mother! Ohthis is punishment!”

“Ill go identify him. Uncle Colin will stay with you.”

“Im coming.”

“So am I,” Colin said firmly. “Well take my car. No arguments.”

After the funeral, Charlotte and Margaret went to Denniss housenow theirs, since hed never filed for divorce. Too busy partying.

Colin insisted on coming. “You shouldnt go alone.”

The house was a wreckdirty clothes, mouldy dishes, the stench of booze and rot.

“My son did this? He was never like this before!”

“What are you doing here?” The blonde marched out, followed by a half-dressed, scruffy bloke.

“Show us the deeds,” Colin demanded.

“What deeds? My husbands dead! We even had a wedding!”

“He wasnt divorced!”

“We celebrated early! Its mine now!”

“Enough drunk nonsense! Clear off! Anyone else here?”

The man bolted. Colin made sure the blonde left empty-handed.

“Now we check the paperwork. Change the locksshe might have keys.”

The deeds were clear. Locks replaced. Most junk got tossed. Colin stuck by them the whole time.

“Ill miss you two when you move back here.”

“Well visit. You come see us too.”

“Youve made me feel young again. Margaretshe reminds me of my late wife.”

“Ive noticed how you look at her, Uncle Colin. And she at you. Bit of romance, eh?”

“Dont be daft,” he muttered, blushing.

“True, though!”

A year later, Colin and Margaret married. They were happywith each other, with Charlotte, who was like a daughter. But the family grew.

Charlotte became a mother after allnot by marriage, but by fostering siblings. “Couldnt separate them,” she said.

Family isnt always blood. Sometimes, life hands you the right people when you least expect it.