fifteen

George continued to walk and the sun was continuing to set, its face reddening and lowering towards the pillow of night. The countryside was growing dim, the sounds fading into a more echoing realm and even the clouds were disappearing back home over the horizon; it was time for rest, for sleep, for recovery.

With darkness descending the lights of distant houses could be seen more clearly. No longer were the roads headed by mirages of hope, but rather by the twinkling lights of a kitchen candle, or the glow from the hearth. These impressions left George with a feeling of loneliness, with the thought that he had no home, no kin, no place where he could lay his head down and relax. He was a vagrant, and itinerant, homeless and, worst of all perhaps, lost. There was nothing now but the desire to find a charitable person who could offer shelter.

George had finally reached a large flat field across which he could see a large house. Light shone from several of its windows, and George wanted nothing more than to be welcomed inside. It was an eager walk along the narrow road, with the house slowly growing in stature until it finally stood before him, its whitewashed body reflecting the gentle moonlight from above. George knocked and awaited his fate, for that was how it felt to him.

Suddenly the door opened and the person who did so was a child, a young girl no more than five years old, who looked at the visitor with curious and innocent eyes.

‘Hello.’

‘Hello, is there anyone home? Your mother or father?’

‘I’ll just get them,’ the little girl responded before turning and running off, her thumb in her mouth. ‘Mummy, there’s a man at the door,’ her high-pitched voice filling the house.

George continued to wait patiently, and was very glad to see the kind face of a middle-aged woman appear. ‘Yes?’

‘Hello, I’ve been walking since this morning, trying to find a place called Shepley Down, and I was wondering if it would be possible to spend the night here. I can pay you for your trouble.’

‘No need for money, come on in.’

George could not believe that his anxiously pronounced speech had succeeded in getting him a roof over his head, and he walked into the warm house with a joyful smile and gratitude spilling from his lips; ‘thank you very much. You’re very kind.’

‘Come and join us for dinner. We were just about to eat.’

George was led into a big dining room that was simply decorated, had a warm fire crackling away at one end, and was filled with the chatter and the pleasing chaos of a large family. At the head of the table was the father who introduced himself as Roy, and George was placed by the fire, with children either side of him. The meal was hearty and hot, and George ate all that he was offered, meekly agreeing to another plateful when offered.

‘So you’ve been trying to get to Shepley Down I hear?’ asked Roy.

‘That’s correct, I started walking this morning from Gorlis, but I think I was making little progress. I eventually got directions from a old couple, but it didn’t help.’

‘Well, never to mind, I’m sure you will get there soon. And in fact, if you will help me with a little work in the morning I will be able to drive you on the cart some of the way. Point you in the right direction.’

Everything had turned out better than expected for George. He slept on the couch in the living room, with the embers in the fireplace casting a homely glow across the carpet. He was warm, well-fed, and although his feet ached and his knees were sore, he knew he would feel better in the morning.