My contribution to The Helpers (September 2025 theme)
A small town during working hours is a curious thing.
After the initial manic burst of energy as the parents rush their children to school subsides and the last train packed with bleary eyed commuters pulls out of the station, destined for the nearest urban hub, the town truly comes to life.
And so, on a bright but slightly chilly Friday morning, Mark and Tilly stood at the barrier of the level crossing, watching the train rattle it’s way out of the station, ferrying it’s passengers towards another day of emails, meetings and spreadsheets.
Mark let out an involuntary smile at the sight, grateful, as he was every day, that he was passed all that.
As far as Mark was concerned, he’d served his sentence as a member of the white collar, 9-5 crowd.
In fact, a result of a frugal lifestyle, lack of dependent children and a generous private pension from his days as an insurance broker, he’d even been able to retire a few years earlier than most. “Early parole”, he called it, whenever the topic came up. No one ever laughed.
“Daddah, da twain is gone. Fowwow Tiwwy!”, squealed the blue unicorn mare standing obediently at his side, knowing not to cross the tracks until Mark gave the ok.
Mark stared down at Tilly (“Short for Matilda, y’see”) with a warm smile, his glasses giving him an air of kindly, owlish benevolence.
Tilly beamed back at Mark with the kind of smile a baby might give its mother during a particularly intense game of peekaboo.
That Tilly loved Mark went without saying, not that that stopped her from saying it several times a day.
As far as Tilly was concerned, Mark was the best thing since sliced bread.
Indeed, if push ever came to shove, Tilly would have cheerfully told sliced bread to take a hike.
“Good girl, 'Til”, Mark said, those three little words causing his companion to wag her tail with enough vigor to make her shock of bright yellow mane swish violently.
The two of them walked in companionable silence towards what passed for the town centre, which was already a hive of activity.
++++++++
There are few forces in this world which are more formidable than the British Granny.
Marlene was living proof of this.
Her family called her spirited.
Other people called her a battle axe (although, not to her face).
Wherever one stood on that particular spectrum though, one thing was for sure; Marlene Hutchinson was a force of nature.
Over the centuries, the British Isles have been invaded by Romans, Saxons and Normans. But that’s only because Marlene hadn’t been around to tell them to pack it in.
Marlene ran the the Community Pantry.
She’d run it since it had first started, when she had retired from her job as a Head Teacher at the local primary school.
The Community Pantry (or just The Pantry) collected food from supermarkets, bakeries and anyone else who cared to contribute.
It was not a food bank. Marlene was always careful to stress that point.
The Pantry was about preventing waste.
People took what they needed, as long as they planned on using it.
It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor, although Marlene knew full well that many of the people who used The Pantry were doing it to stretch their budget as far as they could.
That was OK with Marlene.
Contrary to popular belief, there was a kind heart beating in her septuagenarian chest.
Marlene watched as her fellow volunteers set the latest donations up on a row of tables. It was a good haul today.
“People can be very generous”, thought Marlene to herself proudly. “They just need a guiding hand sometimes”.
Marlene look up to see an gangly, bespectacled figure lurching towards her, as Mark arrived, carrying the box of assorted goodies that he’d managed to procure.
Tilly trotted next to him, happily babbling away at 100mph.
Marlene didn’t particularly like fluffies.
As far as she was concerned, they were just children who never grew up, which of course, is what children are supposed to do.
Still though, this was a public place and people brought their pets here sometimes.
And this particular specimen was well behaved enough, as fluffies went.
“Morning Marlene”, said Mark as he placed his box down on one of the tables with a grunt.
“Hewwo Missis Hutshinsun”, trilled Tilly, addressing her formally, as Mark had instructed her to.
Tilly was a little bit scared of Marlene.
She’d never done anything mean to Tilly, but she was very stern looking.
“Good morning”, Marlene replied briskly, before turning her attention towards one of the other volunteers.
Mark crouched down to run his fingers through Tilly’s mane, eliciting a happy coo.
Mark chuckled fondly, before rummaging through his pockets
“Now that we’re here, I’ve got something for you. C’mere, girl.”
Tilly leaned forward in anticipation, as Mark placed a lanyard around her neck.
Tilly cocked her head to one side and gave Mark a perplexed look.
“Wot dis, Daddeh?”
“Well”, said Mark, ruffling her mane once again “Why don’t you tell me?”
Knowing that this was probably going to be a bit complex for her, Mark grabbed the lanyard hanging around his own neck and made an exaggerated show of waving it about.
Tilly stared for a moment or two and Mark could hear the proverbial cogs turning in her little brain.
Just as Mark was about to give up and simply tell her the answer, Tilly gave a gasp of suprised delight.
“Tiwwy hab badge jus’ wike Daddeh!”, she exclaimed joyfully.
“That’s right”, cried Mark, mirroring her enthusiasm. " And it even has your name on it.",
Mark gently took Tilly’s badge with his thumb and finger.
“It says, My name is Tilly and I’m here to help”.
Tilly looked so overwhelmed with emotion that for a brief moment, Mark was worried that he’d broken her somehow.
His concerns were soon allayed by a gleeful squeal from Tilly, who almost bowled him over as she leapt into his arms.
“Dank you, Daddeh”, she continued to screech, between dispensing slobbery licks to Mark’s face.
“That’s ok, girl”, Mark chuckled happily, “It’s about time you had one. You’re part of the team after all”.
Administering a final loving scratch to Tilly’s mane, Mark stood up and walked back to the table.
There was work to be done.
+++++++
Officially, The Pantry started at 10.30 sharp.
In actual fact though, people arrived well before that.
The single Mums, looking to lower the weekly shopping bill by grabbing any extra fruit and veg that was available.
The students, seeing if there was enough there to whip up a cheap, easy lunch on one of their off campus days.
The elderly, the lonely and the misfits, who didn’t particularly need anything but relished a brief opportunity for respite from thier social isolation.
In a small town, there are two communities; the people who lived there when they weren’t working and a second, hidden community.
This was the secret club, which is the true lifeblood of small towns the world over.
Tilly was in her element.
She rushed around between the tables, sporting her new name tag as though it were an Olympic medal.
“Hewwo fwend!”, she would yell at anyone who made eye contact with her.
“Wewcome tu da Pantwy. Pwease onwy take nummies yu am gunna num!”
Tilly’s enthusiastic greeting was mostly met with smiles, or at the very least, with polite nods.
There was the odd scowl but Tilly ignored those.
Like Daddy said, The Pantry was for everyone, even meanies.
The initial hustle died down and those who had only come for the food departed, leaving the usual smattering of regulars, who came for the free coffee and conversation.
Tilly looked around to find Mark and as she did so, her attention was drawn to a woman sitting on one of the benches at the edge of the crowd, clutching a bag of food.
Tilly paused.
She didn’t recognise her and she knew most now the regular faces by now.
And she looked so sad!
Tilly’s sense of empathy towards human emotions, which is an inate part of fluffy psychology, was instantly triggered.
Without another moments thought, she scurried towards her.
++++++++
Joanne sat forlornly on the bench, clutching her bag of food.
A loaf of bread, a head of lettuce and some assorted cans of soup.
She didn’t want to take anymore. It wasn’t fair on the other people who needed to use The Pantry.
Joanne gave a sigh. She still had some pasta and rice at home.
It was Friday. Joanne’s pension would go into her account on Monday.
It wasn’t too cold at the moment, so she shouldn’t have to put the heating on.
She could make do until then.
Joanne took a deep breath and braced herself for the inevitable jolt of arthritic pain in her knees when she stood up.
“Hewwo, nice wady!”
A chirpy voice floated up from somewhere between Joanne’s ankles.
As she craned her head, she saw a pair of bright lilac coloured eyes peering up at her, dopey and yet full of warmth and sincerity.
“Oh, hello there”, Joanne replied hesitantly.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like fluffies. But there was something disconcerting about them. They had made them in labs after all!
Still, as far as Joanne understand, fluffies had feelings, so she didn’t see the sense in being rude.
Besides, it wasn’t as though she got many opportunities to talk to anyone these days.
" Fwuffy’s namsie am Tiwwy. Am nice wady otay?"
Joanne was quite far from being ok. But like any self respecting Brit faced with a question like that, she did what social norms expected of her. She lied through her front teeth.
“I’m very well, thank you Tilly”, she replied, smiling as politely as she could. “And how are you today?”
“Tiwwy am otay, nice wady. But Tiwwy wan’ say hewwo tu nice wady because nice wady wook wike she hab biggewst saddies”.
Joanne didn’t really know how to reply to that.
This wasn’t part of the socially accepted etiquette of small talk with a stranger.
“But then again, these things aren’t like humans, I suppose, even if they talk a bit like us”, she thought to herself.
Not knowing quite what to say and not wanting to cut short the only real opportunity for social engagement that she was likely to get for the next few days, Joanne thought for a moment, before replying.
“Well, Tilly”, she began “I was just thinking about how grateful I am for all these lovely people giving up their free time to make sure that all this food doesn’t go to waste.”
Tilly nodded eagerly. She thought so too.
“I’d take more if In could”, continued Joanne “But it wouldn’t do to be selfish, now, would it?”
Tilly gave a emphatic shake of her head. It wouldn’t do at all!
“And anyway”, Joanne went on. “I don’t have a fridge at the moment, so it wouldn’t last anyway.”
Tilly frowned and racked her brain. She knew what a fridge was. It was where Daddeh kept all the nummies. Why didn’t their nice wady have one? Was that why she had saddies? Only one way to find out.
“Wai nice wady nu hab fwidge?”
Joanne looked suprised at Tilly’s frankness and reminded herself once again that she was not talking to a person who understood social norms.
“You can call me Jonanne”, she said, deciding that there was no harm in explaining. She’d heard that these things could learn. Like children.
“My fridge is broken you see. I don’t have much money and with everything being as expensive as it is at the moment, I just make do with what I have.”
Tilly’s muzzle started to wobble sadly, even though she didn’t fully understand.
She understood money (sort of. Daddeh her tried to explain it to her).
But why didn’t Joanne have enough? Tilly thought humans could do anything.
“Now Tiwwy hab saddies tu”, she sniffled, nuzzling against Joanne’s leg.
Joanne was taken aback. These things really did have feelings, she decided.
“It’s ok, Tilly”, said Joanne, glad to have an excuse to focus on something else.
“Ahem…”
The two of them looked up to see Mark standing behind them, looking slightly awkward.
“I’m sorry to interupt”, he said, smiling at Joanne “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation”.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping”, he added hastily.
“I saw Tilly talking to you and came over to make sure she wasn’t bothering you”.
Tilly looked slightly affronted at this but was too well behaved to say anything.
“May I join you?”, he asked.
++++++++
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
Joanne and Mark worked in companionable silence, as they unpacked boxes full of this week’s contributions and arraged them neatly on the tables.
Tilly dashed around them, offering words of encouragement.
Joanne was a changed woman.
She and Mark had had a long and tearful chat and she had told him everything.
Then, Mark and his fellow Pantry crew had sprung into action.
With Joanne’s permission, Mark had done a bit of research and learnt that because of the low amount she was getting for her pension, she was entitled to some extra help (“I don’t really go online you see”, she had said sheepishly).
Joanne had a second hand fridge and because of her arthritis, she also got a bit of extra money that she was entitled to from the government, to cover the extra expenses involved in having a long term health condition.
And as it turned out, now that she had a bit more in the way of resources and bit more in the way of energy, Joanne had remembered that she was actually a pretty decent cook.
The people who used The Pantry and had sampled the selection of cakes Joanne baked would attest to that!
They were one of the main features of The Pantry now.
As The Pantry got ready for another session, Marlene stood in front of her loyal volunteers, like a geriatric Napoleon addressing her troops before a battle.
“It’s the first day of half term everyone”, she announced. “So let’s get ready for the rush.”
Tilly peered round the table eagerly and as she did so, she met Marlene’s eye.
“And remember”, Marlene continued. “People come here for the sense of community, as well as the food.”
She looked at Tilly for whom she had a new found sense of respect and to everyone’s astonisment, gave her a wink.
“And you never know what someone is going through until you take the trouble to talk to them. So be kind”.
Tilly’s tail was wagging so hard that she looked as though she was about to take flight.
Joanne bent down from the comfort of her chair and adjusted Tilly’s lanyard.
“Go and do what you do best, Tilly”, she said.
Tilly needed no further invitation.
She dashed forward and proudly cried “Hewwo fwend! Wewcome tu da Pantwy!”
THE END
Great job, and Tilly deserves a huge bowl of sketties.
