The Stolen Garden Gnome

Mrs. Hughes had lived in the same small house in Swansea for forty years, and for most of those years a garden gnome called Gareth had stood next to her front door. He had a red hat, a white beard and a fishing rod, and every spring she had him repainted by a neighbor. Mrs. Hughes said good morning to him every day.

One Monday morning in March, Gareth was gone. Mrs. Hughes looked everywhere: behind the bins, under the bushes, even in the shed. The police were called, but the young officer who came to the house didn't seem to think it was a serious crime. "Gnomes are stolen quite often," he said, trying not to smile. "Usually by students."

Three weeks later, an envelope arrived. It had been posted in Italy. Inside, there was a photo of Gareth in front of the Colosseum in Rome, wearing a tiny pair of sunglasses. On the back, somebody had written: "Having a lovely time. Don't worry about me. G."

Mrs. Hughes didn't know whether to laugh or call the police again. In May, a second photo was delivered, this time from Mexico. Gareth was lying on a beach in Cancun under a little umbrella. In July, a third one came from New York. Gareth was standing in Times Square, and he was wearing a tiny baseball cap. "Had my hat changed. Very fashionable here," said the message on the back.

By now, the whole street was talking about Gareth. The story was printed in the local newspaper, and Mrs. Hughes was interviewed on the radio. People stopped her in the supermarket to ask for news. Her sister said it was the most exciting thing that had happened in Swansea for years, and Mrs. Hughes secretly agreed.

In September, Mrs. Hughes turned eighty. A party was organized at her house, and her grandson Rhys, who had just come back from a year of traveling around the world, arrived last, carrying a large box. "Happy birthday, Gran," he said. When she opened it, Gareth looked up at her with his baseball cap, his sunglasses and his usual smile.

"You!" Mrs. Hughes cried. Rhys laughed. "Sorry, Gran. Before I left, you told me you'd never been anywhere exciting. So I thought one of you should see the world." He explained that Gareth had been carried in his backpack through fourteen countries, and that he had had the photos printed in each city. "The hardest part was getting him through airport security," he said.

Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Hughes laughed hardest of all. Gareth went back to his place by the front door, where he still stands today, cap and all. Above the fireplace there is now a framed photo of him in Rome, and under it there is a small sign that Rhys had made for her: "Next year: Gran's turn."