'Dorothy' by Maureen Bradley

Dorothy was sitting looking out of her cottage window trying to remember when life had been different.
To look at her you would think she was an old lady aged about eighty two, but in reality she was only sixty two.
She was short in stature and had long disheveled grey hair. If you looked closely you could see that that she had good bone structure and had once been a very striking woman.
She did not seem to care about her appearance as she wore no make up and her clothes consisted of a long black skirt and grey jumper. She wore black ankle socks and had tatty slippers on her feet.
The cottage she lived in was neglected and the garden was covered in weeds and rubbish. Inside there were four cats roaming around and every surface was covered with papers, books and food.
I picked up one of her books and was surprised to see it was about how the world began and the one next to it was a Hebrew version of the Bible.
I was only there because I had had a call from a neighbour who was worried as Dorothy had not been seen outside for about a month.
On the mantle shelf was a photo of a young man in army uniform and a lady holding a small child.
I guessed this was her husband and son. I tried to talk to Dorothy but she just stared out of the window. There was a Times newspaper on the floor beside her with a date from six months before. I looked at it and read an article which reported a man in his sixties had been killed on his motor cycle and also his son who was riding pillion and their only relative was a lady called Dorothy Barnes.
I could see that this was the lady who had been traumatised by this tragedy.