The day was warm and bright, and Ellie thought she would make the most of it to give some air to her makeshift pillows and blanket. Her pillows were paper bags stuffed with sawdust, and the blanket was an old wall carpet bearing a stag motif. She stretched the carpet on a rope between two oaks, and beside it she placed a wooden bench upholstered in red leatherette, spreading the sawdust bags on top.
Ellie had been without a roof for over a year. Her hope was to scrape together a few quid, replace the papers she had lost, and get back to her family in Devon, where the sea and a normal life waited for her. In the meantime she was forced to occupy an abandoned rangers hut that once stood on the edge of a deep wood. That wood had long since given way to a sprawling landfill.
At first the stench was barely a whisper, but as the heaps grew they multiplied not by days but by hours. Everything that could be discarded ended up there: broken bricks, splintered furniture, tattered clothes, cracked crockery. From the dump Ellie rescued a small sideboard, a threadbare pouffe and even a wooden chest full of discarded garments.
Soon supermarket vans began to appear, disgorging outofdate stock. After a careful sift she sometimes found stillgood veg, fruit and even frozen meals. Fresh water, however, was scarce; she fetched it from a murky stream, filtering it through rags and charcoal she pulled from the same rubbish mound.
Firewood was plentiful split trunks lay everywhere, so keeping the stove alight was no trouble. Days slipped into a monotonous routine, and a few pennies in a pocket of discarded clothing were a treasure beyond measure. A wallet was regarded as a find of the century.
One night a car rolled up the track. That was no surprise most thieves brought their loot under cover of darkness to avoid being seen. Yet this vehicle was different: a large, polished estate, gleaming like a beast in the moonlight.
A man stepped out slowly, hauled a massive roll from the boot and trudged it into the waste.
Perhaps roofing felt? I could patch the roof the rains are coming, Ellie thought, urging him in her mind, Hurry up and be gone!
The stranger dropped the roll in a hollow between the heaps, glanced around as if reconsidering, gave a vague wave and slipped back to his car. A few minutes later the engine roared and the car vanished into the night.
Finally, Ellie breathed, slipping into work clothes.
She pulled on massive rubber boots and stepped into the yard. Dawn was already brightening, the air scented with damp earth. She recalled a clearing on the hill where mushrooms grew worth a look in the morning.
When she reached the spot where the man had left the roll, she expected a strip of felt or thick plastic. Instead she found a neatly coiled carpet, the kind that once draped the drawingrooms of the welltodo.
Ah a classic English tapestry, I think. Beautiful and heavy. Too bad it isnt for roofing, she muttered, then added, Maybe Ill take it? Folded in half it could make a better mattress than those sawdust bags.
The thought thrilled her and she lunged for the roll. It was too heavy to lift, so she tugged at the edge to unroll it. Then a soft moan rose from within.
Ellie, who had seen every manner of misery in her year on the streets, felt a tremor of fear for the first time. She stepped nearer and called out,
Whos there?
Silence, then another moan and a faint female voice:
Its me Mrs. Whitmore
With effort she pulled the carpets edge and finally freed the woman. The lady toppled out, wobbling, and let out a low groan.
Hold on, Ill help you! Ellie shouted, rushing to her side.
When the carpet lay fully spread, a small, frail woman in simple dress lay on the ground, a bruise darkening her temple. Looking bewildered she whispered,
Well, where have they dumped me? At a rubbish tip?
Without a word Ellie helped her to her feet and led her to the shabby hut. She settled the woman in a cracked chair, then slipped into a clean dress while the guest, only now realising shed been saved, began to sob quietly.
Now Im alive He tried to bury me alive and ruined his precious carpet in the process, the woman muttered.
Ellie set the kettle, brewed a strong herbal tea and placed a cup before her guest.
Im Margaret Hale, the lady introduced herself, a former teacher of English literature.
Are you a girl? the woman asked, puzzled by Ellies short hair and mens work clothes.
Yes, it just turned out that way, Ellie sighed. I came to London hoping to work as a governess, but at the station I was robbed. Bag, money, papers all gone.
Why didnt you go to the constabulary? Mrs. Whitmore asked sharply.
I did, but they said I must sort everything through the embassy, and that costs a fortune consular fees, paperwork I have nothing.
Mrs. Whitmore examined the young woman, her eyes softening with pity.
Is there truly no assistance? she asked. Ive never heard of any such service. Ellie shook her head. Now, tell me, how did you end up in that carpet?
At the question Mrs. Whitmore shivered and broke into tears.
Thats how life turns out Oh, why did I ask Ellie muttered under her breath.
Mrs. Whitmore wiped her eyes, straightened a little, and glared at Ellie with a mixture of alienation and irritation.
Why should I help you? Do you even know who I am? When I get out of here Ill cause a scandal hell never forget! And you can you really live like this?
Ellie lowered her gaze, feeling ashamed of her ragged state, of the hut that now seemed a palace compared to the carpets hidden chamber.
The tea was finished, and the old woman took a deep breath, as if speaking to someone unseen, and said,
Its all right I will find you she added, clenching her fist toward the unseen foe.
Outside the first light of dawn brushed the interior, making the dust motes dance.
Margaret, have you lived here long? Do you know the way to the main road? Mrs. Whitmore asked, rising slowly.
Of course, Ellie replied. Will you escort me? the woman demanded rather than asked.
She stepped out of the hut into the chill, her thin wool coat flapping. Take a coat or a cardigan, Ellie suggested, but Mrs. Whitmore sniffed disdainfully, I wont freeze. Just get me to the road thats all.
The road isnt far, Ellie said, walking beside her. How will you manage with that injury?
If you want to live, youll learn to cope, child. Keep moving; dont hold me back, the old woman replied, leaning on Ellies arm.
Along the way she grumbled,
What have they done here? They felled the forest, left it to rot. No new saplings, no hope. Its an eyesore!
They soon reached the road. Mrs. Whitmore gave a brief nod, released Ellies hand and said,
Well then, Elliemydear. From here on youre on your own. Ill try to help you as I can.
Ellie turned back, thinking,
A remarkable woman. She moves like a lady of rank, voice steady and commanding. Perhaps she was once a businesswoman or a matriarch. It matters not now. If she aids me, Ill be forever thankful.
Back at the hut she tended the stove, brewed another pot of tea, and fetched flour from the pantry to bake simple flatbreads. She mixed boiling water with the gritty dough, salted it, rolled it out with an old bottle and fried it on a battered tray.
This will taste good, she thought, watching the breads brown.
Just as the breads were done the door burst open. Mrs. Whitmore stood in the doorway, teeth chattering, skin pale, clutching her side.
Ellie, help
Margaret sank onto the bench, curled up and groaned,
Oh, it hurts, it hurts I cant starve, I cant stay out in the cold! And those drivers! Not a single one stopped, except one. I begged him, Take me to Whitby! and he asked, How will you pay? Grandmother, do you understand?! Im nothing!
Ellie offered her half a warm flatbread.
Is that from expired stock? the woman asked.
No, just tossed away. Sometimes bugs get into the flour I sift it, pour boiling water over it. It turns out almost homemade, and tasty.
Remarkable, Mrs. Whitmore said, quiet now, I havent seen anything like this in a century
Youre nearly ninety, arent you? Ellie ventured.
Almost. And now? You cant get to the city from here. At home there is no home for me, only that scoundrel who dumped me like a sack of sand.
You wont walk, will you? Ellie replied. That would be too hard.
Just then an unfamiliar SUV pulled up outside the window, its engine growling as it searched the dump. Ellie recognised it at once it was the same man who had dropped the carpet.
Auntie, be quiet! she whispered. Hes back!
Mrs. Whitmore raised an inquisitive brow, but Ellie already had her hand on the old womans arm, pinning her knee.
Dont make a sound! He might hear.
The woman shivered but stayed still. Outside the man paced the rubbish mounds, then headed toward the hut. Ellie pressed a finger to her lips, helped Mrs. Whitmore down into the cellar, shut the wooden door with a plank and waited.
When a knock sounded, she inhaled deeply and opened it. A tall, welldressed gentleman stood there, his bearing haughty, as if the world were beneath his boots.
Good day, he said, eyeing Ellie with disdain. Do you live here?
Something like that, she replied, keeping her voice steady.
And at night as well? he pressed. Tell me, have you seen anything odd? Found anything unusual?
Ellie put on an innocent smile.
What did you lose? she asked, feigning ignorance.
He scratched the back of his head, Lost? You could say that
So you spent the night here?
Yes, he answered.
And you didnt notice anything strange last night?
No, Ellie said evenly, Only the dogs didnt bark as they normally do. Otherwise, quiet.
He stared at her, searching for truth, then turned and walked back to his car, glancing once more at the hut. Ellie watched him disappear, then opened the cellar hatch.
Mrs. Whitmore, still wincing, climbed out. She clutched her side but no longer wept only fury boiled inside her.
Unbelievable! He returned to fetch me Scoundrel! Yet you, Ellie, are a good girl you saved my life twice!
What relation is he to you? Ellie asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
Soninlaw, and not any ordinary one a miser! My daughter died, and now hes after my share. I told him long ago he would get nothing. Neither he nor his new fiancée! she spat.
She went on, voice trembling with memories of wealth:
My husband and I built an extraction company. We had government contracts, properties abroad, yachts, even a private plane. This soninlaw was ready to squander it all if my grandson didnt intervene. He is a shrewd manager. Our business is in good hands.
So he wanted you to leave something for him too? Ellie guessed.
Of course! After my wifes death he tried to marry a young lady, to send me away to France or Austria so I couldnt interfere. My youngest daughter has invited me, but I cant stand the Germans. My grandson lives in Russia. I would have gone to him if not for this villain. He seized me, threw me into a carpet at this dump.
Ellie felt pity swell within her.
Dont worry, Mrs. Whitmore. Give me your grandsons address and Ill fetch you. He must know where you are.
Mrs. Whitmores eyes brightened.
Really? Oh, dear, how grateful Ill be! But theres a problem they wont let a stranger near him. Security would call the police straight away.
Then well play another game, Ellie smiled. Youll dress in my clothes, and Ill go in your stead.
Mrs. Whitmore obliged, shedding her wool coat for a long skirt and a plain sweater. Ellie slipped into the shabby work garments; the old woman nodded approvingly,
It suits you! If only you had heels you could waltz at a ball!
I have a pair, Ellie said, pulling shoes from the chest. Not my size, but theyll do.
While she dressed, Mrs. Whitmore scribbled a note in a firm hand:
Jack will recognise me. Let him take me away from here. Then well deal with Harold properly!
Before leaving, Ellie embraced the woman,
Take care, Mrs. Whitmore. Keep the window shut, lock the door. If anyone comes, run straight to the cellar and hide deep.
Yes, commander! the old lady chirped.
Ellie set off toward the city. Cars roared past, paying no heed to a lone figure in a strangers suit. Suddenly brakes squealed behind her.
Need a lift? a driver called out from a small hatchback. To town?
She turned; the driver was a young man with a soft southern lilt. Spotting his face, she spoke in her native tongue,
Fellow countryman?
Of course! He stepped out. How did you end up here?
Long story, Ellie sighed, handing him the note. I need to deliver this. Can you help?
He glanced at the paper, whistled and said,
Its far, but Im always glad to aid a fellow countrywoman.
Ellie climbed in, pulling the illfitting shoes onto her feet.
Theyre big, so Ive been walking barefoot, she joked.
The driver smiled and set off.
Along the way she recounted everything: the carpet, the hidden cellar, the danger of the soninlaws return. He listened, occasionally nodding, mostly silent but sympathetic.
When they reached a modest cottage, the driver, whose name was Azis, whistled again,
What a fine set of acquaintances you have!
Theyre not acquaintances, Ellie replied, theyre salvation.
She pressed the intercom button. A womans voice answered after a beat,
Whos there?
Margaret sent me. A letter from Mrs. Whitmore.
The gate swung open. A tall young man in spectacles burst out,
Whats wrong with Grandma? Why isnt she calling?
Shes alive, Ellie said urgently, but in danger. The sooner you get her, the better.
Jack, the young man, ran to the garage, got into his car and sped onto the highway.
So shes in the city?
At the dump, in the hut, Ellie replied. Her soninlaw dumped her there in a carpet. We hid, but he may come back.
Jack thought for a moment, eyes on the road.
My uncle told me Grandma flew to France. Showed me a plane ticket. I didnt believe it. Her number went dead. I felt something was wrong.
They turned onto the main road. In the distance, against the grey heaps of rubbish, the hut smoked. Ellie gasped,
Faster! Thats Mrs. Whitmore!
The roof was already collapsing. Jack shouted for her to wait and ran toward the building. Flames licked the interior, the stove toppled, and the whole roof caved inwards.
Ellie fell to the ground, covering her face. Rain, light and cold, drummed on the firesoaked debris. Jack stood nearby, his thoughts turning to the old woman hed just rescued. Ellie mourned a fleeting friendship that had become almost family, and the shanty that turned to ash before her eyes.
Through the crackle and the rain a faint voice called,
Ellie! Margaret! Open up quick!
They rushed toward the sound, finding a concealed opening behind a rusted sheet of iron. With effort they moved it aside and saw Mrs. Whitmores dirty but living face perched on wooden steps, barely holding on.
My dear grandson dont weep! she croaked, strength returning. That wretched man got nothing!
It turned out Jacks cousin Harold had returned. He had poured petrol over the hut and set it alight. Mrs. Whitmore saw him through a cracked window, slipped into the cellar and, when the floor gave way, fell into the hidden passage she herself had once discovered a shelter from a sudden storm that now saved her life again.
Ellie could not hold back tears emotions she had not felt since losing all her papers, money, hope.
Mrs. Whitmore took her hands,
Dont weep, child! Youll come with us! You now owe a debt Ill pull you out of poverty. As long as I live, youll be safe.
At her grandsons manor, Mrs. Whitmore freshened up, took a shower and made a few phone calls. An hour later she announced cheerfully,
Jack, everything will be ready at the consulate tomorrow at ten. Youll take Ellie there; I have the paperwork. ButAnd as the sun rose over the reclaimed garden, Ellie stepped into the bright future she had once only dared to imagine, hand in hand with her newly found family.
