Aunt Joyce, wheres Mikey?
What dyou want him for?
We were meant to go berry-picking this morning.
Hes gone off with the lads.
Gone? The girls lips trembled. But he promised
Listen, Lucy, why dyou cling to that boy, eh? Youll be chasing after lads soon enough yourself, yet here you are, bothering a lad half your age. Go onrun off with the girls. Leave Mikey be, for goodness sake.
Joyce couldnt stand this wide-mouthed, long-legged Lucy, who reminded her of a heron wading through the marshes. The sight of the girl twisted something in herjust a child, yet so unpleasant.
Lucys lips quivered, tears welling in her round eyes.
Bloody nuisance of a girl. Joyce shrugged and turned away, marching deeper into the yard. Wouldnt give the poor lad a moments peace.
Just then, her son Mikey darted out of the shed.
Where dyou think youre off to?
The woods.
Done the pigs?
Done em, Mum.
Straw laid out?
Laid out.
And the chickens
Mum, Ive been working since dawn. Its summer break! I got up early cause we planned this. The lads are waiting.
What lads?
Mum, come onjust the usual lot. Billy, Tommy, Stevie, Pete, and Gary.
That all?
Yes, Mum. Ive got to go.
And that wide-mouthed oneshe tagging along with you lads?
Mum, give it a rest! Whats Lucy ever done to you? Shes my friend.
Friend? Joyce grabbed his shoulder and hissed, Dont let her wrap you round her finger, son. Youll bring nothing but trouble. Listen to me.
Mum, whatre you on about? The boy yanked free and sprinted off, hopping onto his bike without a glance back.
Lucy! Lucy! His bright voice carried. Joyce slumped onto the step andcried.
Why was that girl so fixated on her boy? What did she want? A couple more years, and theyd be courtingthen hed drag that wide-mouthed creature home, saying, Mum, Dad, this is the one. Love her like me. No. Never.
Joyce wiped her tears, stood firm, and marched to the gate. She hesitated, then strode down the street.
Near the fence, a gaggle of kids played in a heap of yellow sand. Joyce called out to a scruffy, big-headed lad.
Andy, your mum in?
Yeah, the boy muttered, digging intently.
Fetch her.
Mum! he bellowed.
Joyce grimaced. Couldve gone himself, but nohad to shout. The whole family was the same.
Coming! a voice rang from behind the fence.
Over here! Some lady wants ya.
Out waddled AnnieAndy and Lucys mum, freckled and wide-mouthed, just as long-legged as her daughter.
Annie, come ere.
Joyce, whats up? Something wrong? The kids alright? Annie wiped her hands on her apron, flustered.
No, curse your tongue. Not yet, but might be. Rein in that Lucy of yours. Shes a girl, after all
What?
Hanging round the lads, wont leave my Mikey alone.
You eaten something funny this morning? Theyre just kids playing! Remember when we ran about with the boys? Picking berries, mushrooms, fetching corn for the rabbitsor have you forgotten?
You mightve. I didnt.
Oh, listen to you! Who trailed after my brother Johnny, eh? Your own mum chased you off our yard with a switch! I rememberIm only four years younger than you and Johnny. Sneaking fags behind the shed, giggling over dirty pictures, fishing trips, snogging by the barnor did none of that happen?
Ive said my piece. Keep that girl in check, or shell end up in trouble.
Like you didnt? Or is Johnnys lad, Paul, really yours?
You daft cow! Whyd I want your lot? My kids are my husbands. Yours look like the milkmans.
Me? What rubbish! Ive got a man who loves methats why were happy. Yours is only with you cause hes scared to leave. You grabbed the first bloke whod have you after Johnny dumped you. No one else wanted you, you miserable old mare.
Joyce knew Annie had a sharp tongue. Most women avoided tangling with herbut Joyce was no pushover.
Meanwhile, the kids, berries gathered, dashed to the brook, stripping off clothes, splashing, laughing, indistinguishableboys, girls, it didnt matter. Children carried no filth of adulthood. They were pureuntil life shaped them.
Now, they flopped onto the sand, bare-legged or bare-bottomed, unashamed, chattering.
Whatll you be when you grow up, Pete?
Like me dadtractor driver.
Lucy? A singer?
Whys that?
All girls wanna be famous. Five minutes, five minutes! Gary mimicked.
Lucy snorted. You do it, then. Ill be a pilot or a scientist.
They dont take girls.
They do, Gary, Stevie said quietly.
Joyce fought to pull Mikey from that wide-mouthed girl. She sighed with relief when he joined the army. If she spotted Lucy, she turned away.
Once, Lucy ran up, tearful.
Aunt Joyce, have you heard from Mikey?
Course. Got a letter yesterday.
Not me. Her lips trembled.
Well, maybe he doesnt want to write you.
But he always!
What dyou want from me?
The girl hunched and left.
Hes found someone else out there, Joyce called after her.
The wedding! Music, dancing, laughter. The groom, GaryMikey and Lucys old friendsat stunned. Hed never dreamed Lucy would run to him in tears, proposing marriageon one condition: theyd move to the city.
Gary wouldve done anything for her. Shed never noticed him, always trailing after Mikey. When Mikey left for the army, shed wept for days. Gary stayedrejected from service for some health issue.
Joyce rejoiced. Finally, her boy was free.
Mikey wrote home, asking why Lucy never replied. Joyce said she saw her dailyfine, not ill. Why didnt she write? Who knew?
But Joyce knew.
Lucy did write.
Only Sally the postwoman owed Joycebig time. So, for a cut of the debt, Sally handed Lucys letters to Mikeys mum instead.
What else? A mother knew best.
Mikey returnedno Lucy.
Gone?
Married Gary. Moved to the city.
Joyce had a nice girl in mindNadias daughter, Sophie. Well-off. Nadias husband managed a factorycould set Mikey up.
Mum I dont love her.
Love? Pah! Look where love got that other one.
The wedding. Music, dancing. The groom sat stiff, joyless.
Never mind. Love would grow. And the houseoh, the house! A fathers influence for his only girl. Time would smooth the rest.
Years passed. The ache dulled under lifes weight.
A decade slipped by like a day.
Mikey visited with his family. Lucy and Gary visited hers.
They met by chance. Pleasantries. Shouldve partedbut couldnt.
Off for a smoke. Might see Stevie, Mikey said that evening.
Where? Joyce blocked the door. Youre not.
Mum
Sophie, go with him. No man wanders alone.
Joyce, hes seeing a friend. Let him be.
To her? That doe-eyed
Mum, move.
His feet carried him to the brook. Next day, too. On the third, as he turned to leave, he saw her.
Shed come.
No words, no blame. Just clinging under the old cherry tree, the moon hiding behind cloudsas if sparing them its glare.
Did it care if two married souls stood entwined? It only saw love.
Another ten years. Then twenty.
Never crossed the line. Not once.
Call it not love? It was. And dutyto those beside them.
Were Mikeys wife or Lucys husband at fault? Their children? Grandchildren?
Now, Mikey stands by his wifes gravethree years a widower.
Visited his parents. His mother confessedhow shed torn him from Lucy. He forgave. A mothers love.
The pain had faded. Only an ache remained.
Mike?
He turned. Lucy stood thereautumn leaves swirling, yet she looked unchanged, thin, a scarf at her neck. She sat beside him on the bench.
They talked.
Lifes gone by, Mike.
Gone past us, Lucy.
Why past? Not being together? Maybe it was meant Dont blame Gary. He pulled me from despair. Then I grew to love him.
Out of gratitude? Mike smirked.
No. For his gentle soul. His love for me. What he endured I loved you, Mike. No one else. But years side by side Mike, Ive a favour. Dont hold it against him. Be there for him. I must go. Goodbye.
Be there how?
But Lucy was already gone.
That evening, Mikes grandson called. Phone for him.
Hello?
Mate Garys voice cracked.
Gary, you crying?
Lucy shes gone.
Where Mike almost said she wasnt with himthen understood.
Im coming. Hold on.
Ta mate.
Two old friends sat shoulder to shoulder.
Been poorly. Told no one to say Your wife?
Three years gone.
Hard.
A lifetime together.
Aye. Lets stick together. Whos left of our lot?
Stevie and Tony.
Good.
Life had flowna single day, it seemed. Yet when he looked backno, years. Bare-bottomed kids splashing, now look at us.
Same here, mate.
Maybe his mum had known something, felt something. No use dwelling now.
To live a life is not to cross a field.
It has its climbs, its stumbles, wounds that ache,
The weight of choices, stones that block the way.
(Adapted from original)
Good day, my dears. Sending warmth and light. Always yours.
