Free In Search of Hope by Anna Jacobs Page A

do this as long as the tenants’ social benefits cover their living expenses.’
    Libby went up to explore the third floor of her new home. These stairs were slightly narrower than those below, and the stairwell was enclosed in panelling, with a door at the bottom. She opened the door and found herself facing a dark space with six steps then a bend from which some daylight showed. The treads were of bare wood with the stain worn off in the middle, where countless feet must have trodden their way up.
    As she and Ned walked up, their footsteps echoed in the stairwell and he laughed, stamping his feet to make more noise.
    It was brighter in the big room at the top than anywhere else in the cottage, because of the long walls of windows, from waist to ceiling height, on either side. They had stone uprights between each panel of glass. Mullioned windows, she thought they were called. She’d have to look that up online.
    She went to gaze out of the front windows at a view you would have paid millions for elsewhere: rolling moors, with the occasional clump of trees surrounding old-fashioned stone farmhouses, or short rows of workers’ cottages. Not many red bricks up here.
    She’d explore the area around the village gradually, taking Ned on little outings, she decided. The weather was getting warmer and they were both due to have some fun.
    She stood him on a chair, so that he could look out properly, but held him carefully as she pointed out of the window. ‘See the cows in that field, Ned? And the white things over there are sheep.’
    He soon tired of staring out and got down to explore the big room. As he walked round, he began to look more and more worried. ‘It’s not tidy. Daddy will shout. We have to clear up quickly.’
    Only four and he knew that already.
    ‘Daddy doesn’t live here. He won’t see it.’
    Ned stared at her, as if he couldn’t take this in.
    ‘Come on, darling. We need to have our tea, then unpack more of our things.’
    On the floor below, she stopped at the doorway of the back bedroom. ‘This is your room. We’ll make up the bed and you can sleep in here tonight.’
    He looked round the room and inched closer to her. ‘Don’t want to.’
    ‘You’ll like it when Boo-Bear is here with you.’
    Looking dubious, Ned followed her down the stairs and without telling began to put his things away.
    ‘No need to put them away. Daddy doesn’t live with us now.’ She wondered how many times she’d have to say that before he believed it. ‘We can do what
we
want here.’
    But such a big change was a lot for a child of four to understand and Ned still kept listening as if waiting for his father to come home from work.
    Not until Ned had fallen asleep in his new bedroom, clutching his bear, did Libby open the letter from her grandmother. She wanted desperately to see what was inside, and yet she was almost afraid to read it.
    She opened the envelope to find many sheets of letter paper, all filled with that angular black handwriting.
    The covering note alone had her in tears.
    Darling Libby,
    I’m writing to say goodbye. It won’t be long now before I die and I’ll be glad to go. What do people say? Old age isn’t for the faint hearted. Neither is cancer, however caring the doctors and nurses.
    I do understand you’d have come to see me if you could. And I thank you for the annual letters. They meant a great deal to me and I still re-read them occasionally.
    I don’t know why you stopped writing a few years ago, but no doubt you had a good reason. Perhaps it was to do with your husband.
    I confess that when a second Christmas went by without a letter, I paid a private investigator to check what you were doing, to make sure you were well. And I sent him every year to do another check.
    It didn’t sound as if your husband was making you happy, but at least he gave you a son. I’ve seen photos of Ned. What a darling!
    I hope my legacy helps you with whatever you want for yourself in life and