The House Sprite: The Mysterious Guardian Spirit of the English Home

House Spirit

– Will, was it you who tidied up the garden? Margaret gave her sons shoulder a gentle tap.

He jumped, yanking off his headphones. Monsters on his laptop screen kept pounding one another, but Will was no longer watching.

– What, Mum?

– I asked, have you been home from school long?

– Just got in.

– Then who tidied up outside?

– How should I know? Maybe Rosie did.

Margaret chuckled. Her three-year-old daughter was certainly a busy little soul, but not quite up to such feats yet.

– Dont be silly!

– Mustve been the house spirit, then!

– Ah yes, him again! Youre a right chatterbox. Off you go to Grans and fetch Rosie. Shes been there long enough. Ill make dinner in the meantime. Hungry?

– Yeah! We had some buns at lunch, but that was ages ago. Mum, when will our school finally switch to mornings?

– No clue, love. Nobodys said a thing. Too many kids for the classrooms.

– At least we get a lie-in, then. Will, as ever, looked for the bright side.

Margaret kissed the top of his head, tugged his ear when he tried to dodge, then headed to the kitchen.

Teenagers…

Thirteen years old. Thinks hes grown up, but… He always freezes when Margarets lips brush his dark, almost-black hair.

Her children couldnt be more different. Will tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed was the image of his dad, Richard. Not just in looks, either. The early signs of a stubborn, good-hearted, responsible nature were already shining through. Maybe he hadnt tidied the garden, but the plates were always spotless, and the kitchen floor gleamed with fresh mop-marks. Where else would you find such a little helper? Unless Rosie grew up to match him.

Rosie was Margarets miracle. Nearly a decade of longing after Will. Difficulties from her first labour had nearly robbed Margaret of even the smallest hope. Still, against all odds, she and Richard got their daughter fair as a daisy in a summer meadow. Flaxen curls, the same blue eyes as Will. Rosie took after Margaret gentle, kittenish; shed sidle up to mother or brother, snuggle in, and just stand there.

– Rosie, what’s up, love?

And the room would light up with her smile. No one in the world smiled quite like her. Margaret knew this as sure as anything. Now, no one else…

That smile brought Margaret joy, but cut deep as well. It was Richards smile. And he was gone…

Margaret wanted so much to howl with grief, but she couldnt not with the children near.

Her husband had been a firefighter saved others, extinguished blazes. Like that day, when he rescued an entire family from an outlying farmhouse Mum, Dad, three children. He went back in for the elderly grandmother. Shed refused to leave, trying to save the animals, and then it was too late the fire closed around them.

Margaret knew Richard was gone before anyone called. Her heart jolted with dread, warning her, and she thrust the squalling baby Rosie at her mother-in-law Joan, whod come to help with the baby.

– Mum, please take her! I need to make a call!

Margaret sped down the motorway to the next town where Richards fire station was, numb to everything, even as her shirt soaked through with milk and her arms cramped with tension.

How did I keep going then? What stopped me from falling apart?

The children. Will never left her side for a moment.

– Come on, Will, bedtime for you, Joan insisted, barely on her feet but determined not to leave Margaret alone. She would force her to eat or drink, bringing Rosie in for feeds.

– Ill stay with Mum! Will shook his head stubbornly, palm pressed to Margarets cold cheek. Gran, why are her hands so icy?

Margaret remembered very little of that time fragments, glimpses. Like the frantic packing, haphazardly stuffing toys and baby things into bags.

– I cant stay here… Feels like Richard will throw open the door and yell, Im home!…

– Thats right, love. No need. Come to mine for now, well sort something.

– I cant face that either… Im sorry. Too many memories there. Ill go to Grandmas cottage.

– You cant! No ones lived there in decades! Not with the children?

– Its fine. Just needs a tidy, thats all. And youll be close. I cant do without you.

– Im not going anywhere; you two are all Ive got…

– Please, Mum, I cant bear it… Well be at it all night otherwise, crying again with so much to do still. Will needs feeding he barely eats except with me, and my appetites vanished.

– You mustnt, Joans voice turned stern. Youre their mum. If you hold it together, the kids will be alright. Run yourself into the ground and what of them? I cant do it all age and health. Look after yourself!

Margaret clutched Joans hands, kissed them quickly, then got back to packing. She had to run. The happiness that had filled that little flat was gone, and staying amongst its walls was unbearable

Grandmas house was not welcoming. But Margaret had only herself to blame shed turned her back on it, stopped visiting.

She walked through the rooms, running fingertips along familiar wallpaper, brushed dust off Grandmas old sideboard (still covered by her embroidered cloth), and threw open the windows to the chilly autumn air.

– Mum, take the kids for a bit. Ill come feed Rosie soon.

– Sure? Can you manage alone?

– Of course…

She wasnt left alone for long. Half an hour later, Sally turned up in the porch her old friend from school.

– You couldve said you were coming back. Too proud, eh? Wheres the mop?

Sally was always the bustling sort. Shed chatter for hours, but when it came to her people, shed work herself to the bone.

Margaret wiped the suds from her hands and hugged her friend awkwardly.

– Hi…

– Hi! Kids with your mum?

– They are.

– Got it. Well, come on then! What are you standing about for? You staying here tonight?

– Thats the plan.

– So, whats the hold-up?

Sally slipped from the hug, looking around for a wash bucket.

– Sally! Margaret exclaimed, noticing her friends rounded belly.

– What? Oh, this? Yes. Funny, isnt it?

– When?

– February. Why are you in such a lather? Im pregnant, not ill.

– Whos the father?

– As if you dont know! Sally grabbed a rag and started on the window sills. Honestly! What a state!

– Greg? But he…

– Left, yes. Im going it alone. We can talk about it all later, right?

– Is he coming back?

– Greg? No. Freedoms more important, apparently. Thats his choice. Ill have a son, or maybe a daughter…

– You dont know?

– Not yet hiding. But it doesnt matter. My child, Margaret. Can you imagine? Mine!

Margaret knew how much those words meant to Sally. Her first husband, Owen, left her supposedly because she couldnt have children. His whole family blamed Sally, pitied Owen.

At first, she cried over it, tried to explain. Finally, she gave up and left.

– Better no husband than one who wont stand up for you.

Owen remarried straight after their divorce and it turned out the problem had never been Sallys. His new wife insisted on checks, found out Owen needed medical help; within two years they had a son and a daughter together.

Sally was happy for Owen, truly. Shed long since forgiven, even saw herself as lucky that life had changed in this way. Without all that, she wouldnt have known this cautious, precious hope fluttering under her heart. Even if Greg left her the moment she mentioned the baby, that no longer mattered. She wasnt the timid girl whod look down under mean comments.

They cleaned well into the evening. It was worth it. The house seemed to exhale, blink its battered shutters, mutter and finally come alive.

Later, Sally slumped at the table, watching Margaret brew tea.

How quickly it all changes, how fleeting life is…

It wasnt so long since theyd run here to snatch freshly-baked pies, dashing off to the river as Grandma shouted after them from the garden:

– Lazy rascals, dont you want to eat properly first?!

Not breaking stride, theyd wave back:

– An hour, promise!

And that hour stretched to evening. Finding Grandma out in the cool dusk, the girls would silently grab hoes and help with the huge garden more than one woman, dairy farm shifts and all, ought to manage. But Margarets grandma did. She raised her granddaughter, helped her son (who lived with his new family in town), kept a big house and farm, milked cows and cared for everyone.

Margaret was her eldest granddaughter. Her mother died in childbirth and no one really took in the baby. Her father, drowning in grief, moved to the city, so Grandma had no choice but to raise her. When her son had another child, Grandma gathered up Margaret and went too but it lasted only a short while. Three-year-old Margaret never understood why Grandma packed up again and wiped away the silent tears on the drive back.

Grandma died when Margaret was just eighteen. Shed just started dating Richard, swept away in new love, barely noticing how quickly the woman closest to her was failing. It wasnt until she heard quiet moans at night that Margaret even realised.

Three months thats all they had, enough to say only the most important things Never enough…

Yet, Grandma had managed something truly priceless. She called Richards mother, Joan, on her deathbed. Whatever she said, it worked from then on, Margaret had a second mother.

She started calling Joan Mum before the wedding.

– Is that okay? shed asked nervously, relieved by the gentle nod in reply.

Shed never told anyone, but there was always a longing to use that word just once. She wasnt one for confessions, except to Grandma. Now, there was Joan, looking at her almost the same way.

Margaret never once argued with Joan. Why would she? Shed only ever known kindness and practical advice from her. Why quarrel when someone is a mother in spirit rather than just in law?

Margaret knew relatives didnt always live up to their titles. She learned it the hard way. After Grandmas funeral, her father, stepmother, and step-gran turned up from the city.

– Nice house. Solid. Could fetch a good price.

The tall, booming woman Margaret had never seen before strode about, shaking her head.

– Run-down, though. Wants tidying. Buyers like it clean.

– What buyers? Margaret finally snapped, trembling.

The week after the funeral felt dreamlike; she did chores, ate when Joan made her, and drifted through the days, half-hoping Grandma would appear.

– Which buyers? her step-gran shrugged, shifting her dress strap.

– Those whod buy the place!

Margaret couldnt answer. She bolted behind the shed, mouth clamped shut, and when she returned Joan was there.

– Leave. Now, please.

– Who are you to order us about, then?

– The house is Margarets. Theres a deed, and a bank will. I helped with the papers. Its all hers. Off with you stop picking on an orphan!

The brewing storm missed Margaret entirely. Joan led her inside, lay her on the bed, and changed her into a clean dressing gown.

– Dont cry. I promised your grandma Id look after you. Now, rest. Ill bring tea. Then we’ll talk.

Margaret only saw her father again at her wedding.

She hadnt sent him an invitation. He just came.

Friends teased Richard as he tried and failed to swaddle a big doll, and Margaret laughed until someone touched her shoulder and she turned.

– Hello, daughter…

She was at a loss. Her father pressed a set of keys into her palm.

– Im sorry. Joans got the paperwork. Shell explain everything. Be happy.

He turned and left the venue.

The flat he gave Margaret was small but cosy two rooms and a big kitchen. She wandered the rooms, not sure why she should leave Grandmas house for here.

– Youll be better off here, love. Its the city. More opportunities, more possibilities. Youll need to study.

Joan, satisfied, settled at the kitchen table. It was she who persuaded Margarets father time to help her grow up, if not as a parent then at least as a man. His conscience stretched that far.

– But when, though? Margaret smiled wryly at her mother-in-law.

– What do you mean?

– Babys due soon. Richard doesnt even know yet.

– Ill help. Apply for uni. Youve a good head; dont waste it.

Margaret got her degree, though it was hard. Joan cared for Will, helped with food. Everything eased when Margaret got work, and Will started nursery.

– Were off to the seaside! Richard plugged his ears, grinning as his girls shrieked with delight.

Their first and only holiday. Margaret and Richard swam madly, keeping an eye on Will digging with Gran. In the evenings, Margaret and Joan walked the pier, talking about nothing in particular.

One night, a couple rowed at the far end of the pier. They screamed and strode back to shore still arguing, ignoring everyone.

Joan watched them go, sighing.

– Why waste it? Dont people know theyre stealing from their own lives? Theyll make it up anyway but those lost days and bitter words… worth it?

– What if they dont, though? Margaret eyed the pair.

– They will. You saw how she ran after him, crying? Shell forgive, and so will he. Though, theyll never have this evening again. Or tomorrow. Maybe night will heal it. If not…? One day, if youre ever tempted to argue with Richard, remember this couple. Our time together is so short… So short, Margaret…

How grateful Margaret was for that talk now. She could honestly say, she and Richard never wasted their time together.

Margaret lifted the kettle from the hob, nearly dropping it in surprise. Someones shadow crossed the kitchen window. Not Will. Some man, creeping across the garden in the dusk.

Her first instinct was to bolt the door, call for help. But the kids would be back any minute; Joan wouldnt let them walk alone. There was a stranger out there!

The old wooden kettle handle warmed in her fist as she glanced from the spout to the dark garden, then strode for the door.

No porch light. Shed forgotten to switch it on.

– Whos there?!

The shed door creaked. Margaret braced herself.

– What do you want?! Ill scream!

A shadow approached, and she shrank.

– Dont shout, Margaret. Its me. Alex.

At the relief, her knees gave way and she nearly dropped the kettle, scalding her leg before plonking it down.

– What are you doing prowling about, Alex? Why not knock?

The solid, stocky man before her dropped his gaze, just like Will did when hiding something.

– Sorry… Its the door on your shed. It was hanging off the hinge. I meant to fix it off to the hives tomorrow, might be gone a while. Thought Id get it done.

Margaret tried to catch up.

– Shed door?

It made sense now the tidy garden, fixed fence, new bridge at the summerhouse none of which she or Will had touched.

– So youre my resident house spirit! Margaret grinned.

– Who?

– House spirit. Theres one here, keeping everything ticking over. Doesnt even drink milk from a saucer. Will says we need a cat so hes not lonely. Lonely, are you?

From the kitchen light, Margaret caught Alex blushing.

– Sorry. I shouldve said something.

– Thank you. But… why, Alex?

He just shook his head, hopped over the fence, and didnt notice Joan or the children watching from the gate.

– So there he is! Joan chuckled, handing Margaret a bottle of milk. Pop this in the fridge, will you?

– What do you mean, there he is? Mum, you knew?!

– Of course. Whole village does. You found a mystery, eh? Alex has been sweet on you since your Richard. Didnt you notice the way he looked at you?

– No…

– Are you sure? Not joking?

– Honestly, Mum. I had no idea.

– Well, we need a chat after we get the kids to bed. Thisll be a long night.

They talked almost till dawn. Margaret kept refilling Joans cup, hanging on her words.

– He came to see me last year. Asked for your hand. Knew he had to come to me you trust no one more. Cheeky! Knew just what to say!

– And you said yes?!

– Why not? Youre still young, love a long life ahead. One day, the kids will grow up and leave, and youll be left with an old mushroom like me. Is that right? No. Its time for you to truly live! I know how you loved my Richard, but hush, let me finish! Some only love like that once, but some get lucky and love again, even after hurt. Thats a blessing, and you should take it. You may not love Alex as you did Richard. But if youre happy and at peace, Ill rejoice. And Will could do with a mans hand we love him but its not the same. Alex has been his mate for ages. Did you know hes been teaching Will to drive?

– No…

– See? He darent even mention it. Hes scared youll think hes replacing Richard.

– How silly…

– Have a word with Will, then. Hes drawn to Alex, but scared well misunderstand. Rosies little, she barely remembers her dad. Wills trickier. But you…?

– What about me? Margaret blushed, eyes averted.

– Nothing! Joan smiled and waved her mug. More tea, please! Im parched!

Margaret and Alex married a year later. A year after that, their son arrived.

– Look, Mum, what wild hair! Margaret, back home, took off the babys cap and smoothed his fluffy fair hair.

– Looks like a proper little house sprite! Joan wrapped him up and gathered him in her arms. Hello, young man! You can call me Granny Joan.

– Mum…

– Just for the future! Feed him now. Ill sort lunch.

A great ginger tomcat, Alexs present for Will, poked into the room and padded onto the windowsill, peeking curiously at the sleeping Margaret and her swaddled bundle. Silence settled beside the cat, hugging it, gazing at the fragile, gentle happiness within.

Somewhere, a teaspoon clinked, Rosies laughter pealed, and silence slipped wistfully from the sill, gently ruffling the cats ear. The cat shook its head, then began a careful wash, ready to welcome the new family member.

Off you go! There are plenty of guardians here already.©

By Lydia LawrenceFrom the landing, Will leaned quietly against the bannister, listening to Rosies giggles below and the faint, soothing tones of his mum singing to the baby. The old house creaked and sigheda contented sound, as if it too had set down its burdens. For a while, Will simply watched: Joan bustling, Rosie skipping, Alex whistling softly as he put away tools in the shed, the cat curled in a patch of sun by the door.

He pressed his palm to the cool wall, searching for some pulse beneath faded wallpaper. It wasnt just the house that felt different. There was a new softness woven into each daya warmth alive in every glance, every simple meal, every story told at the table. Old grief lingered in the corners, but it was gentled, no longer sharp. It had made room for something else.

Downstairs, Margaret laughed as Rosie tried to pat the babys hair into place. Sun flooded the window, catching the dust and turning it into golden motes that danced between the children and their mother. Will realized he no longer waited for the next sadness, didnt brace himself before each evening fell. The world was, at last, quietly mending.

He padded down the steps and slipped into the kitchen, sliding an arm around his mums waist. Margaret squeezed his fingers, her smile full of all the things theyd survived.

Were alright, arent we? Will murmured, almost shy.

Were better than alright, she whispered, tugging Rosie close and reaching for Alex with her eyes. Homes awake again, Will. We all are.

Beyond the window, the garden shimmereda patchwork of new shoots and old roots, tended by loving, unseen hands, guarded by sunlight and the shadow of a purring cat. Inside, voices overlapped and laughter rang bold and unafraid. The houseMargarets housebreathed in time with its new family, holding every memory close, and all together, they began again.