When I Returned Home and Found the Door Wide Open, I Thought Someone Had Broken In Hoping to Find Mo…

When I got back, the door was wide open. My first thought was, Someones broken in. I figured maybe they expected to find cash or some family jewellery tucked away somewhere.

My name is Margaret Smith, and Im sixty-two. Ive been on my own for five years now. My husband passed away, and my grown-up children have their own families and homes. As long as the weather isnt freezing, I stay in my little cottage just outside the city, but come winter, I move back to my two-bedroom flat in town. The minute it warms up, though, Im straight back in the countryside house.

I absolutely love village life. Fresh country air does wonders for me, and pottering around in my garden gives me so much peace. Theres also a little patch of woodland nearby, perfect for picking berries and mushrooms in the summer months.

Anyway, last week I had to go away from the village for a few days to sort out some things. When I came back, the front door was open. Straight away, I thought someone had broken in. Maybe theyd hoped I kept piles of pound notes or heirlooms at home. But there were no obvious signs of a break-in, and inside, everything seemed just as Id left it. The only odd thing was a plate sitting out on the table. I never leave dishes out, especially if I know Ill be gone for a while.

Thats when it hit mesomeones been staying here while I was away. That realisation got my blood boiling, if Im honest. When I went into the living room, I found a young boy fast asleep on the sofa. Well, now it all made sense.

He woke up and looked at me with sleepy eyes. He didn’t even try to run offjust sat up and said calmly, Im so sorry for coming in like this.

He seemed a well-mannered and polite little thing, and heartbreakingly humble. I couldnt help but feel for him.

How long have you been staying in my house? I asked.

Two days, he replied.

Arent you hungry? What have you been eating?

I had some pasties. Theres a bit left, would you like some?

He handed me a carrier bag with a couple of rather stale Cornish pasties. At least he was trying to share.

Whats your name?

Oliver, he answered.

Im Margaret. Why are you here by yourself? Are you lost? Where are your parents?

My mum often left me alone. When she came home, she was always in a bad mood and would take it out on me. Shed tell me I was nothing but trouble in her life, and if it werent for me shed be happy. Two days ago she shouted at me again. I couldnt take it anymore, so I left.

Do you think shes looking for you?

Im sure she isnt, Oliver shrugged. Its not the first time Ive run away. Sometimes Im gone for a whole week and she doesnt notice. Shes better off without me. When I come back she never seems pleased to see me.

Turned out he lived alone with his mum, who spent most of her time chasing after blokes rather than caring for her son. Now and then shed stay over with friends, and during those times, Oliver had to fend for himself.

I really felt for the lad, but there wasnt much I could do. Im retired and no social service would let me take on legal guardianship of a child at my age, and Oliver didnt want to go anywhere near a foster home. So I gave him a proper meal and said he could stay one more nightit was certainly safer here than out with someone like his mum.

That night I couldnt sleep, worrying about what would become of this boy. Then it dawned on me that I had a lovely friend, Sharon, who works with the care authorities. First thing in the morning, I called her up to get some advice.

Sharon was happy to help, but explained Id need to wait a little while for things to be sorted. In just under three weeks, I was able to adopt Oliver. He was over the moon, and so grateful. His mother, honestly, was quite happy to give up her parental rights the moment she heard someone wanted to care for him.

Now its just me and Oliver. He tells everyone Im his gran. And I cant describe how lucky I feel to have been given a grandson by fate.

Hes a bright, clever boy, too. This autumn, he started Year 1, and his teacher always says nice things about him. Oliver picked up reading in a flash and is already quick with sums.

Honestly, Im just so proud, and so grateful for this unexpected chance to share my life and home with such a wonderful boy.