The house had never been through the local estate agents’ books because it had never been sold. It had been built, over a hundred years ago, by a young couple who gathered local wood and stone and slowly, lovingly made themselves a house of many rooms in which to raise their family. Who knew where the deeds and land registry papers were? Certainly, none of the present occupants who paid the bills and maintained the fruitful gardens.
Many people had called the house home. Family, friends, and people in need of refuge had shared love and hospitality there as well as some of life’s tragedies. No one ever wanted to leave, but inevitably work, marriage, death, or the desire to travel had torn some away, always with the hope of return.
Around the house, which was by a river, there often swirled thin mists. Here could be heard the voices of ancestors and past friends reminiscing as they continued with their word tapestry stitched with memories. Earlier occupants knew the later ones and shared their stories of hardship and joy over the timeline of the house.
‘Old Bill, the father of young Bill who built the house, lived here. He suffered from shell shock during the Great War and Nell looked after him for many years. She took me in too when I lost my leg and Old Bill and me, we started the garden.’
‘I remember Nell. She was my Granny and I loved it when she told her stories. She had her sister’s children here too when their parents were too sick to look after them.’
‘Yes, she was a kind woman. She had already died when I came to live here but I knew her children. The second war took two of the lads.’
Often Nell and Young Bill would join the crowd round the house.
‘Nobody seems to work in the forest these days Bill, nor sell their milk and bread from the kitchen door.’
‘No lass, and people seem to have to go about in their noisy cars and buy their food in big shops. We’re long behind the times but at least we made a start and left a good legacy with this house. It’s been made good use of.’
Nell, Bill and their friends and relations drifted by the windows watching the children doing their homework and adults making a meal together. They pressed against the walls, each remembering past times in the home and wishing for that safety to continue into the future.
One of the great grandchildren gave the misty folk a bit of a shock when she dropped a piece of news: ‘I heard my daughter saying that some chap who thinks he owns this land wants to pull the house down and start some kind shooting and fishing business in the area.’
‘Good job Bill kept the paperwork vague then. But this needs to be stopped. Maybe invite him home? We’ve seen worse threats collapse under the weight of kindness.’
