Mary and her husband Michael came home from the funeral feeling heavy-hearted and worn out. Theyd just buried Michaels mother, AnnaMarys mother-in-law.
“Well, at least Mums at peace now, laid to rest beside Dad,” Michael said quietly. “She kept asking for that, right till the end.”
“I know,” Mary replied. “She understood wed never bury her anywhere else, but its all she could think about. Poor thingsuch a cruel illness, the way it dragged on.”
That evening, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Marys mind drifted back to her childhood, especially the years before she met Michael. There hadnt been much joy in those days. Shed lost both parents youngtheyd died in her grandmothers house after her grandads funeral. A fire broke out that night, and none of them made it out.
Mary had been at home with her older brother, Nicky. When morning came, the news shattered them. The village helped with the funerals, but just like that, she and Nicky were alone. The neighbours whispered, “Old Grandad mustve taken his wife and the kids parents with him.”
Nicky was seventeen, practically grown, and Mary just thirteen. They stayed in the family cottage. Nicky worked on the farm, Mary went to school. Life hands everyone their own path, but some get a rougher road than othersMarys was one of those. Even now, she sometimes cant believe all that happened.
Their village was tinyjust forty-two houses. The school only went up to Year 4, so after that, kids walked three miles to the next village. In winter, theyd cut across the frozen river to save time. Years back, old Ned used to take the children by horse and cart on Mondays and bring them home Saturdays. The older kids hated staying in the dormitory all week, though.
A lad called Mike, the chairmans son, was the ringleader. “Anyone heading home today, meet by the benches after lessons,” hed say. Three miles wasnt so bad in a group, though the woods were spooky alone. By then, the lads had started noticing girlspassing notes, asking them for walks, dancing at the village hall on weekends. Come Monday, everyone knew whod walked who home. Back then, the whole village turned out for those dances. Films were rare, so even the adults joined in.
Mary went to that school too. As she grew up, the whole village couldnt help but stare. She was beautifuldelicate, almost angelic. Lads her age and older couldnt look away. One glance from her could leave a boy restless for days, and her soft voice lingered in their ears long after shed spoken.
She had it alllooks, brains, kindness. Rare, but it happens. Only thing against her? She was an orphan. She lived with Nicky, his wife Sharon, and their baby boy. Sharon never warmed to her. No matter how hard Mary triedhelping with chores, keeping quietshe always felt like a burden.
“Once I finish school, Im off,” Mary vowed. “Train to be a chef in town. Sharonll never give me peace here.” She never complained to Nicky, though. He had his own family now.
The lads respected Mary. Not one ever spoke a harsh word. They all hoped shed pick one of them someday. But she kept her distancemodest, strict with herself.
Then the rumour started: Mike, the chairmans son, and Mary were courting. Walking hand-in-hand evenings, leaving school together. Mike was a strapping ladbroad-shouldered, nearly grown. Top of his class, just like Mary. They had plenty to talk about.
The other lads looked up to himhe never touched a drop, unlike some older boys who messed about on holidays. Mike and Mary made a striking pair. Smitten, inseparable.
“Two lovebirds, those,” the village women murmured. “Wont be long till we hear wedding bells.”
Not everyone approved. Mikes parents were dead against it. His dad, Simon, ran the farmwell-off, first in the village to own a car, solid house, livestock, even a motorbike Mike rode. When Simon heard about his son and the orphan girl, he put his foot down.
“Listen, Annie,” he told his wife, “whats that Mary thinking, setting her sights on our Mike? Pretty face, but shes got nowt to her name. Lives off her brother, and hes barely scraping by.”
“Simon, the lads besotted,” Annie fretted. “Out with her till all hours. No parents to keep an eye on herthough they say shes decent.”
“Ill find him a proper wifeone from a family like ours. Theres that head agronomists girl over in Melton. Maybe not as pretty, but their place is thrivingcar and all. Good connection to make.”
“But how dyou talk to Mike? He wont listen, not when hes in love.”
“Leave it to me,” Simon said grimly.
First, he tried reasoning with Mike. “Son, come out here. We need to talk.”
“Cant it wait, Dad? Marys expecting meI dont want her upset.”
Simon scoffed. “Upset? Listen to yourself. Village is talkingyou and that girl, acting like star-crossed lovers.”
“We love each other. Weve got plans.”
“Forget her. Ill find you a proper match. Shes got nothingher brothers no better. Disobey me, and Ill handle it my way.”
“Nobody but Mary for me,” Mike shot back.
Simon knew brute force wouldnt workhis son was a man now. So he schemed. Next day, he called on Sharon while Nicky was out.
“Sharon, listen. Youve got that aunt up in Scotland, aye? Your mums older sister?”
“Whats she got to do with anything?”
“Heres what youll do. Get Nicky to send Mary up there. Ill make it worth your while.”
Sharons eyes lit up at the mention of money. Nicky, easily led, agreed. “Aye, might do her good. Citys better than this place.”
They packed Mary offpractically dragged her to the train, thrusting a letter and address into her hand.
Mike was heartbroken. He barely spoke to his parents after that. Even Annie started regretting it.
Then came his army call-up. He wrote stiff letters homethey knew he hadnt forgiven them. Posted up in Scotland, of all places. Near the end of his service, he wrote: “Found
