Marjorie was sitting on the window seat of the bay window of her lounge, looking out. Everything looked murky, partly due to the dirty windows. Although she regularly washed her nets, the windows had not been cleaned for a long time. The contractors who dealt with this job had not been seen. The other reason for the greyness was the dark rain clouds floating by. She sat on her window seat for many hours every day, not that there was really much of interest to look at, apart from the grey slates of the roof tops down below, and the black dots of people scurrying about their business. She liked the flat that she had lived in for over 50 years now, but she was lonely. She felt isolated way up in the building. It was so different from her earlier life, living in the terraced houses, where everyone knew everyone, and they were a real community, working together.
All had been fine when they first moved, it was as if their streets had been turned on end. Everyone had moved into the flats on the same day. A new beginning for all. Everything was new and bright, indoor facilities rather than down the ginnel along the back of the houses. Slowly people had died or moved away and new families had moved in, strangers from different areas and cultures. Things had changed, the friendliness started to disappear, everyone became individuals rather that a community.
Now the building was looking worn and duller, the shared areas needed attention. The lifts often were not working and the staircases were dark and dingy, with graffiti scribbled on their walls. Marjorie felt nervous when she needed to leave her flat, she would hurry out and back again, head down and eyes watchful. Each flat now had a metal grill gate at its front door, making it look more like a prison, less like a neighbourhood. Even the small shops that had been open at the start were now closed and boarded up. Marjorie needed to catch a bus which took three quarters of an hour to get into town. The trees, grass and flower beds were sparse or overgrown. The whole area looked sad and forgotten. Marjorie was one of about ten of the original occupiers of the four high rise towers who were left, which made her feel even lonelier and sad.
As she sat on her window seat on that dull November afternoon, thinking of times long past, she heard the sound of shouting and crying. It seemed to be just outside her door, in the hall. There were four flats on this, the top floor of ten floors of Windermere House. She had seen the people from the other three flats occasionally in passing, but she had never stopped to really talk to them.
Again the sound came through to her, it sounded a young voice. Was it one of the children in trouble? Should she go and look? Or would it be unwise? It could be an intruder!
When she heard the sound a third time, she made a decision, got up from her seat, went to the front door, opened it and looked through the metal grill.
There in a huddle by the wall was a little girl, now sobbing, and clutching a satchel. Marjorie could see that blood was oozing down from a cut knee. She quickly opened her gate and rushed over.
'Oh, my dear, let me look.' Marjorie put an arm around the girl's shoulder. 'What have you done?'
'I fell on the stairs,' muttered the girl. 'I can't get in, Mummy must be out still. I've shouted through the letter box.' The little girl was shivering and still weeping.
'My name is Marjorie, what's yours?'
'Margy.'
'Well, Margy, I think we better get you inside and see if we can make things better. I'll just get paper and a pen and we can leave a message on your door, so your Mum will know where you are.'
Soon Marjorie and Margy were in the flat, each sitting in an armchair, drinking hot chocolate. Margy's knee had been cleaned up and now had a bandage round it. Marjorie had turned on the electric fire glow so the flat looked cosy.
'How old are you?' asked Marjorie.
'Nearly nine, it's my birthday soon. Jonnie, my brother is four and will soon be joining me going to school,' Margy replied. Then after a moment's thought she asked, 'How old are you, and have you a brother?'
'I'm 82 and do not have any family now. I didn't marry and have children, and my older brother died a long time ago, when he was 20, during the war.'
'How sad. So you are all by yourself. Don't you find it lonely?' asked Margy.
'Yes I do feel alone most of the time, so it is lovely to meet you.' Marjorie answered.
Just then there was a knock at the door. Marjorie went over and opened it. There was a young lady holding the hand of a little boy.
'Hello, I'm Alice, this is Jonnie. I've come to collect Margy. Thank you so much for looking after her. I had expected to be home earlier, but the bus from town didn't arrive. Is she all right? I hope she has been no trouble to you.'
'Not at all. Won't you both come in for a minute, while Margy collects all her bits?'
As they came into the lounge, Margy rushed over to her mother and gave her a big hug.
'Oh you're back, I'm so glad. This is Marjorie, my new friend, she's been so kind to me.'
Soon the little family had left and gone back to their flat next door. Marjorie was by herself again but had a warm glow inside her. A feeling she hadn't had for some time. It was a good feeling. As she went back to her window seat, even the view looked more cheerful.
The next day, in the afternoon, there was a knock at Marjorie's door. Through the metal gate she could see a young man clutching a bunch of flowers.
'I'm Edward from next door. I'd like to thank you for your kindness to my family. We are so pleased to meet you. We have been here for six months now and you are the only person we have talked to.'
'I'm pleased to have met you all as well,' said Marjorie. 'Thank you for the flowers.'
Over the next few days Marjorie smiled every time she passed the vase of flowers, they were a burst of colour. They had changed her whole view. The flat felt so different, more like a home.
Soon every afternoon Marjorie would open her door at 3:30 so she could say hello to Margy as she came home from school.
Sometimes during the day she would meet Alice and Jonnie coming back from shopping.
One morning, early in December, Marjorie noticed a white envelope on the mat at the front door. This surprised her as the postman never delivered to each door, you had to pick up your post from the boxes by the entrance, on the ground floor. She saw that it had no stamp, so must have been hand delivered. She opened it and realised it was from Alice and Edward, inviting her to tea at 4pm on the 11th, to celebrate Margy's ninth birthday. She smiled as she wrote a quick note of acceptance and posted it through the letter box of no. 39.
What could she give Margy as a present? When she had been young she had been a seamstress and made many things. Perhaps she could make something for the little girl?
She took down the suitcase from the top of her wardrobe and rooted through the fragments of material. Perhaps she could mix them in a patchwork? Perhaps she could make a bag for Margy?
She went back into the lounge and found her sewing box. As she held the beautifully carved box she remembered Jacob Mathias, who had made it for her.
In 1949 he had come to live next door to her family in Palmeston Street. He had found it hard to settle and be accepted at first, but soon everyone became fond of him and would listen to his stories about leaving his home in Jamaica and the long journey he had made, with many others, on the Empire Windrush Trip. They had all come with great hopes of a new life and jobs. Jacob worked on the buses in his new 'homeland', but still used his skills to create pieces of art. He had made the box for Marjorie as a thank you, for all the help she had given him in those early days. Edward reminded Marjorie of Jacob, in the way he stood and spoke.
Soon she was busy sewing, making a pretty mixture of colours and patterns. She was sure Margy would like it. As she was sewing in the lining, she decided to put in some small pockets. She finally sewed two straps at the top. She was really pleased with the bag when it was finished. She found some cheerful paper to wrap it in, found a card and wrote a message in it.
By ten to four on the afternoon of the 11th Marjorie was dressed in her prettiest blouse and plaid skirt. She felt excited and had a warm glow inside her.
The door of no. 39 was opened and Marjorie was welcomed in by Edward. As she went into the lounge Margy and Jonnie rushed to give her a hug. Once she was seated, she gave Margy her present.
Margy opened it. 'Oh how pretty, so many colours. It's lovely, thank you so much.'
Soon they were all seated around the table, enjoying the tea Alice had laid out. Marjorie really felt part of a family again, it was a super feeling, one she hadn't had for many years.
At 7pm when the children went to prepare for bed, Marjorie got up to leave.
'Do you have to go?' asked Alice 'Have you something you need to get back for?'
'No I haven't, ' answered Marjorie 'I could stay longer.'
'Perhaps you'd like to read the children their bedtime story?' went on Alice 'I know they would like it if you did.'
'I'd love to, it's something I've always wished I could do for my own children, but unfortunately I never had any.'
Just before 10pm Edward offered to walk Marjorie to her front door, although it was just next door, it was a good way to finish the day. She thanked Alice and Edward for such a lovely time.
As she prepared herself for bed, she had a secret smile on her face, at the memory of Margy and Jonnie asleep in their cosy beds.
During the days that followed Marjorie became more involved with the little family next door. She started to do sewing and knitting with Margy, hearing her read or helping her with her homework.
As the school term was coming to an end, Margy had songs and words to learn for the Christmas Concert. Marjorie was given a ticket to go along one afternoon to see it. She was so proud of Margy and enjoyed seeing the other children taking part.
A week before Christmas Day Alice asked Marjorie what she would be doing on the festive day. Would she be going to family or friends? When Marjorie replied that she would, as always, be spending it on her own Alice immediately invited her to join them. She explained it would not be the usual meal for that day.
'Can I bring anything towards the meal?' asked Marjorie.
'Just yourself,' was Alice's reply.
Marjorie decided she would find something special to take with her. She looked through her cupboards and found the wooden figures for the Nativity Scene. They had also been carved for her by Jacob and it seemed fitting that they should be passed on to the family.
On Christmas morning when they saw the box of figures, Alice and Edward were speechless at first.
'So exquisite,' whispered Edward. 'Such workmanship. Thank you so much, we will really treasure them.'
It was during the conversation on that morning, that Marjorie found out that both Alice and Edward were only children, and had both lost their parents, so their family consisted of the four of them.
'Perhaps Marjorie could be our new family?' said Margy. 'Perhaps we could call you Auntie Marjorie? Could we?'
'Oh yes, that would be marvellous, thank you. I would love to become part of your family and your lives.'
They sat at the table as a happy and comfortable group. Edward served the meal, a typical Caribbean dish.
'Different but tasty,' said Marjorie. 'What a superb Christmas this has turned out to be. My life has changed forever, I will never need to feel lonely again.'
The next morning Marjorie was sitting on her window seat in her lounge, looking out of the window. It didn't matter that the windows were dirty. In her heart the sun was shining. She had a smile on her face.