“Oh, my boy, you’re home,” Margaret exclaims, her voice bright as she spots her son at the door.
Nicholas tosses his flat cap onto the hall table and says, “Hey, Mum. I” he pauses, “I’m not alone.” He nudges forward a skinny lad with glasses and a backpack slung over his shoulders.
“Oh dear, my grandchild’s arrived. Is that Charlie or Oliver? I cant tell without his glasses,” Margaret mutters, eyeing the boy.
Nicholas plops down onto a chair.
“Put the glasses on. That’s Billy, my illegitimate son. Remember when Mabel and I took a year apart? I got together with Valerie then, and Billy was born. I foolishly put his name on my own papers,” he sighs.
Margaret gives him a sharp slap. “What nonsense are you spilling in front of a child? He’s far too young to hear about your mess. Billy, go to the lounge and watch TV while we sort things out with your father.”
The boy slips out silently and heads for his room. Margaret leans in, whispering, “Does Mabel know about him?”
“He never liked his son’s wifealways a quarrelsome nag,” Nicholas replies, his voice trembling.
Nicholas shivers. “What are you saying, mother? If she found out she’d have thrown us out long ago. I feel sorry for him; I built him from the ground up myself.”
Margaret sighs, “You’re a scoundrel, not a man but a wretch under Mabel’s heel all his life. How could you bring a son on the side? If Mabel discovers, she’ll be furious.”
Nicholas, nervous, tries to explain, “Valerie, she’s like a snake, decided to marry someone else. She ran off south with a new lover for a month, then called me. She said, ‘Take the boy wherever you like, even home.’ I told her Id gone mad, my wife would kick us both out. She warned me she’d make it hard. Ill give your Mabel a birth certificate and you sort it out. That’s all. My end is near. She barely forgave Valerie; she hasn’t spoken to me for six months. So I think let him stay with you for a month, then Ill come back and collect him,” he says, never looking at his mother.
Margaret shakes her head, “Thats how you were as a kid, and you never changed. No matter what you do, Ill help. Fine, where do you want to put him? Leave the boy here. But is he really yours?” she pauses.
Nicholas waves his hand, “He’s mine, no doubt. Valerie’s no angel, but I’m a loyal old man.”
They fall silent. Margaret jumps up, “Why am I just standing? Lets get him something to eat from the road.”
Nicholas rises, “Sorry, Mum, I have to go. Mabel’s waiting at home. I lied that Im heading to town for parts. Feed Billy and Ill be off.”
Margaret embraces her wayward son, whispers, “God be with you, my blood.”
Billy shovels food into his mouth, eyes glued to the plate.
“Want some more?” Margaret asks pitifully, watching him finish.
“No, thanks,” he says, standing.
“Go out for a walk, and Ill finish dinner. Whats in that bag?” she asks.
He grumbles, “Things.”
Margaret nods, “Youll wash them yourself or should I?” For the first time he looks at her with frightened eyes, “I dont know how. My mum always did the washing.”
Margaret lifts the light backpack, “Go on, Ill rinse the dirty bits.”
He steps out while she sorts through a few simple items: two Tshirts, some shorts and a pair of underwear.
“Not much,” she mutters, “no warm jumper either. Typical mum.”
She drops the clothes in a basin and starts a cherry pie.
A shout erupts from outside. Margaret darts out, flour still on her hands.
“Whats happened?” she asks.
Billy wails, clutching his leg, “A goose bit me! It hurts!”
She looks at the red mark, “Why were you near the geese? Theyre out back, not in the yard.”
“I just wanted to look at them,” Billy sobs.
“Never seen geese before?” she asks.
“I’ve seen them, but I never got close,” he whispers.
“Alright, lets get you some ointment,” she says, taking his hand.
After dinner she puts him on the sofa, unable to sleep. She thinks about how life has turned. She never would have sent her own child to a strangers house. The house feels cramped, the trousers expensive. Then she hears a whimper. She leans in, “Whats wrong, love? Not liking it here? Wait a month, Mum will come back for you.”
He lifts his head, whispers, “She wont. I heard Uncle Victor and Aunt Vera saying theyll send me to a boarding school when they return. Theyll only pick me up for holidays. I dont want that; Im happy at home with Mom. Uncle Victor never calls me by name. Grandmother, youre kind but I dont belong here.”
Margarets heart aches. She hugs his thin frame. “Dont cry, Billy. I wont let anyone hurt you. Should I talk to your mother and keep you with me? We have a good school and nice teachers. Well pick mushrooms and berries, milk our cow. Youre small now, but a glass of fresh milk gives you strength. Dont believe? Tomorrow Ill introduce you to Paul. Hes a good lad, round as a bun from all the milk. Want that?”
He wraps his arms around her neck, “I do. You wont cheat me?”
Margaret kisses his crown, “Never.”
Years pass. Valerie sometimes visits, bringing gifts, but always rushes off, urged by Victor. Nicholas appears now and then. Mabel learns about Billy and blames Margaret, saying she never needed her own grandchildren, only oddities.
Margaret doesnt mind. The frail boy grows into a sturdy youth. Every morning she prepares his favourite dishes and peers out the window, hoping. One day a young soldier steps into the house and calls softly, “Grandma, Im here, where are you?”
She darts out, throws her arms around his neck, “Billy, my dear grandson!”
“Will you go with mother?” she asks. He puts down his fork, looks puzzled, “Which mother? The one who left me and only brings trinkets once a year? No, I wont go. You are my mother now, thats not up for discussion,” he says, calmly eating.
Margaret wipes a tear silently, grateful for the grandson who will support her in old age. He is her blood, her own.
