Maud lived in a rundown neighbourhood in London, far from the elegance of Kensington and Mayfair. She had a small one-bedroom flat in a Victorian block which had once been of middle class gentility and was now close to being a slum. Her neighbours were much the same as herself, elderly and poor, with an air of quiet gentility. She shared her flat with her one-eyed dog, predictably called Nelson and her couch potato, orange tabby cat named Tabitha.
Her neighbour was Stan, not short for Stanley as one would have thought, but Stanford, his parent having had certain delusions of grandeur. They were both of the same social strata and had become friends, with the passage of time.
Maud had become adept at living off her meagre pension, knowing where to buy the cheapest food and shopping for clothing at thrift shops. There was a Saturday market not far from her flat. She was well known to the stall holders. One in particular was a kindly soul. He sold her fruit and vegetables at half price because he liked her. She was feisty and independent. She did not realize his kindness as there were no prices displayed on his produce, and he marked up his sales to the wealthier shoppers to make up for the discounts he gave to people like Maud. He did not feel guilty about his actions as he thought the rich should help the poor whether they knew it or not.
Maud made a few pounds by taking in mending. Her workmanship was so fine that it was hard to see where it had been done. She liked doing it for two reasons. One, that it gave her something to do and two, that she could indulge herself once a month by going to see a film and having a cup of tea and a sticky bun at Lyons Corner House after the show. If she had made enough money she would take a sticky bun home for Stan. The local pet food store kept damaged bags of dog food and dented cat food cans for her, which she bought at a much reduced price. The owner, Gilbert, would drop off her heavy purchases on his way home in the evening. Once in a while, she would give him a scarf or a pair of gloves she had knitted, to show her gratitude.
When she went to the thrift store she would search among the sweaters for ones that had moth holes or small tears. She would take them home and wash them. Once dry, she would unravel them and wind them into balls of wool. Then she would knit them into beautiful sweaters with intricate patterns and give them as gifts for birthdays and Christmas. Those that were not gifted she sold at the Church craft fair and put the money aside for emergencies. At 93, she was a going concern. Life was full of joy to Maud.
Maud’s favorite time of year was Christmas. This year was no exception. She liked to sit at her kitchen window with a cup of tea and watch the world scurrying by. Tabitha, on her lap, had one paw over her eyes as if to keep out the light. A rumbly purr advertised her contentment. Nelson sulked in his basket. Maud’s lap was very small, as was Maud. No room for two. Nelson’s one eye was balefully fixed on Maud. “You’ll get your turn,” she said in a conciliatory tone. Nelson sniffed and sighed and settled down for a cat (or dog) nap.
