“A Good Woman—What Would We Do Without Her? And You Only Pay Her Two Thousand a Month. —Olena, We Pu…

Lovely lady. What would we do without her?
And you only pay her two thousand pounds a month.
Margaret, we left her the flat in the will.

Arthur climbed out of bed and shuffled into the spare room. In the warm glow of the nightlight, he squinted blearily at his wife.

He knelt beside her, listening for a moment. Seems all right.

He stood, creaking slightly, and trudged to the kitchen. He opened a carton of milk, nipped to the loo, then trundled back to his own room.

He lay on the bed. Sleep evaded him.

Margaret and Ininety years old apiece. How long have we been rattling around together? he wondered. On our way to meet our maker soon enough, and not a soul nearby.

Their daughterswell, Lucy had passed before shed even hit sixty. Their boy, Peter, had gone too, after one too many wild parties. As for the granddaughter, Emilyshed legged it to Australia nearly twenty years back. Probably has a bunch of kids by now who dont even remember their old Nan and Grandad.

Arthur drifted off without realising.

He woke to the touch of a hand.

Arthur, are you all right? came a faint voice.

He blinked awake. Margaret was leaning over him.

Whats the matter, Margaret?

You were just lying there, not moving.

Still breathing! Now get yourself back to bed.

Hobbling footsteps echoed. The kitchen light snapped on.

Margaret helped herself to some water, visited the bathroom, and padded back to her room. She lay down, heavy with thoughts.

One morning, Ill wake and hell be gone. Or maybe Ill go first. She sighed. Arthurs already arranged our funeralsnever imagined you could book those things ahead. Makes sense, though. Who else would bother?

The granddaughter never calls. Only our neighbour, Ivy, pops in. She keeps a key to our flat. Arthur gives her a bit from our pension each monthjust a thousand. She gets us groceries and the odd bit-and-bob. Not as if we go spending it now, and we cant do stairs anymore from the fourth floor.

Arthur blinked at the sunlight peeking through the window. He stepped onto the balcony and gazed out at the greenerya hawthorn tree bursting into leaf, of all things. A smile tugged at his lips.

Look at that, weve made it to summer!

He went to find Margaret, who was sitting pensively on her bed.

Come on, love, no more moping around! Ive got something to show you.

Oh, Ive hardly got the strength, she said, rising shakily. Whats all this about?

Come along, come along!

With a gentle arm round her, he escorted her outdoors onto the balcony.

Seethe hawthorns all green! And you said wed never last till summer. Well, here we are!

Fancy that! The suns out, too.

They perched side by side on an old bench.

Remember when I took you to the pictures? Back when we were at school. The day the hawthorn first went green.

As if I could forget? How many years ago now?

Well over seventy seventy-five, Margaret.

They sat for ages reminiscing. Its funny, all those years and half the details slip your mindwhat you did yesterday, evenbut your youth, somehow, you never do forget.

Oh, listen to us! Weve not even had breakfast, Margaret said, getting up.

Put the kettle on, would you, Margaret? Not that grass-water we always have.

Were not supposed to

Oh, go on, just this once. Barely any, with the tiniest spoonful of sugar.

Arthur sipped the weak tea, washed down a little cheese sandwich, and reminisced about proper breakfastsnice strong tea, sugary sweet, with pastries or nice hot crumpets.

Neighbour Ivy bustled in, beaming.

All right, you two?

What do you thinka pair of ninety-year-olds? Arthur joked.

Well, long as youre joking, you must be fine. Need me to pick anything up?

Ivy, could you get us some meat? asked Arthur.

Are you allowed?

We can have chicken.

All right, Ill get some. Make you a nice noodle soup.

She tidied the place, washed up, and left.

Come on, Margaret, lets get back out for a spot of sun, Arthur suggested.

Lets.

Later, Ivy stuck her head on the balcony.

Enjoying the weather, are we?

Lovely here, Ivy! Margaret smiled.

Ill bring you some porridge, then start on that soup for lunch.

Smashing woman, Arthur said, watching her disappear. Heaven knows what wed do without her.

And all you pay her is two grand a month.

Weve left her the flat, Margaret.

Shes no idea.

They stayed out till lunch, when Ivy brought round chicken soupplenty of meat and mashed potato stirred in.

I always made this for Lucy and Peter when they were little, Margaret recalled.

Now its strangers who cook for us old codgers, Arthur sighed heavily.

Maybe thats just how it goes, Arthur. When we go, no one will shed a tear.

Oh, enough of all that, love! Time for a nap!

You know, its true what they sayold age is just like childhood.

Arthur nodded. Everything the samepuréed soup, naps after lunch, tea time.

He snoozed but didnt really sleep. Maybe it was the weather. He wandered into the kitchenfound two glasses of squash that Ivy had thoughtfully left out.

He carefully carried them both into Margarets room, where she stared out the window.

Whats got you down, love? he smiled. Heres some squash!

She took a cautious sip.

You cant sleep either?

Must be the weather.

Ive felt off since this morning, Margaret replied with a small shake of her head. Feels like Im running out of time. Bury me nicely, will you?

Oh, dont say that, not you! How would I manage?

One of us will go first, we both know it.

Oh, enough, come outside with me!

They lingered on the balcony till dusk. Ivy made them cheese scones for tea. Afterward, they settled before the telly. They could never keep up with new shows, so they stuck to old comedies and cartoons.

Tonight, they only managed one cartoon. Margaret stood up.

Ill turn in. Im beat.

Ill come too.

Let me have a good look at you first, she said suddenly.

What for?

Oh, just to look.

They gazed at each other for a long while. Remembering, perhaps, the days when it all lay ahead.

Lets get you tucked in, said Arthur.

Margaret took his arm, and together they made their stately way.

He tucked her in, gently, and headed back to his own room.

Sleep wouldnt come. His chest felt so heavy. He must have dropped off at last, though the clock said it was only two in the morning when he woke again. He got up and headed for Margarets room.

She lay, eyes open.

Margaret!

He grabbed her hand.

Margaret! Margaret!

Suddenly, he found it hard to breathe. He managed to make it back to his own room, set the documents hed prepared on the table, then returned to her. He gazed at her face for a long time. Then he lay beside her and closed his eyes.

He saw his Margaret, young and beautiful as shed been seventy-five years ago, walking toward a bright light in the distance. He hurried to catch her, reaching for her hand.

In the morning, Ivy peeked into the bedroom. There they lay, side by side, peaceful smiles on their faces.

Eventually, Ivy rang for the paramedics.

The doctor, upon arrival, shook his head in gentle awe. Went together. Must have loved each other dearly

They were taken away. Ivy slumped in the kitchen chair, exhausted. Then she spotted the will and paperwork with her name on it.

She an buried her face in her hands and weptHands trembling, Ivy unfolded the papers and read their message. Her throat tightened. There it was in Arthurs neat, looping handa letter meant just for her.

*Dear Ivy,
If youre reading this, weve likely gone off together, the way we always hoped. You were our friend, not just a helper. We wanted you to know that. Thank you, for everythingyour kindness, your laughter, the way you brought sunshine into our last years. Take the flat, love. Make it your own. Theres nothing left for us but memories, and you shared so many of our best ones. With love,
Arthur & Margaret.*

Tears pricked Ivys eyes, then slipped down her cheeksgrief and gratitude, tangled up together. She sat in the quiet kitchen, letting the memories drift through: the way they teased each other, the stories they told, the gentle warmth that filled these rooms.

Outside, sunlight spilled over the hawthorn, its branches trembling with life. A blackbird sang as if to summon them back, but Ivy knewthey were together now, where neither of them would ever be alone again.

Carefully, Ivy set the kettle on, humming their favourite tune. She opened a window to the fresh air, letting it fill the flat. The place felt softer, lighter, as if hope had taken root among the tired furniture and faded wallpaper. Ivy smiled through her tears.

Thank you, old dears, she whispered, raising her mug in silent salute.

Below on the street, childrens laughter floated upward. Seasons would come and go, and life would go on. But in this sunlit flat, love had lingered to the very last.