Do you know, Primrose, Tara whispered, to look as if Im strolling in gold, I rise at five every morning, milk the cows, give the calves their drink, hand out the feed, then head off to my real job. No one has any reason to be jealous.
Ah, Primrose! Look at you, all glittering in goldchains, hoop earrings, even a tiny golden bracelet, Tara chattered on, her words spilling like rain. Everyone in the city would quit their flats and move to the village just to see you. Living in the countryside and still shining like a piece of jewelryhow splendid!
Honestly, Primrose, if you knew what village life truly is, youd think otherwise, Tara replied. I wake before the sun, tend the herd, feed the calves, then march off to the farm office. Thats why theres nothing to envy.
Oh, Primrose, Ive known cows and pigs since I was a child, while you only turned into a village auntie overnightstill a mystery to me. We all warned you that after school youd never come back home.
Let bygones be bygones, Primrose sighed. In youth were all dreamers, thinking everything will follow our plans, only to find reality upsidedown.
Primrose had a stubborn streak: once she said something, she did it. From the earliest days she bragged that the fields, the potatoes, the cows, the haystacks were beneath her; she was beautiful and clever, deserving the best, and she swore shed never need the cows again.
Ill never return to the village, Mother, she declared one night. When I finish school Ill go to London, find a rich fiancé, marry him, and stay in the city. I cant stand the thought of staying in the country!
Very well, Primrose, her mother, Rose, answered gently. Who knows where life will carry you? The village isnt worse than the city; people live there too. If youd help with the cows, dear, I could have a quiet dinner while youre at it.
Imagine me fetching cows! Primrose laughed, the whole village would laugh at me. Ill never set foot near those beasts again, Mother.
But other children meet the cows and help their parents. What makes you so different, love? Rose asked.
My mind is my own, Primrose replied, applying layers of cosmetics for the upcoming village barn dance.
Rose sighed and walked toward the pasture, where her daughters usually met the milking herd, while Primrose painted her face. The other village girls eyed the selfstyled queen with envy; she never washed dishes or dusted the loft. She seemed clueless about how to approach a cowa lateblooming, unexpected child of the fields.
Years passed, children grew, parents aged. Primrose finished school with a string of average grades, but ambition still flared. She chose to train as a nursery assistanta clean, respectable job. Rose and her husband sold a pair of bullocks and paid for a year of tuition.
No one quite understood why Primrose kept returning home during her final college year, fussing in front of mirrors, primping as if waiting for someone who never arrived. She grew confident, rounder, and on a weekend a distant relative showed up with a curious offer: We have a small trade, could you help?
Primrose, without consulting anyone, fell for a young man from the same village who had stayed in the city after college. They courted for four years, married while she was heavily pregnant, and rumors swirled that she passed her exams only because of circumstance, not intellect.
They moved into a modest flat in London, while Rose sent parcels of provisions. Primrose went on maternity leave, and her husband, Victor, worked double shifts. Their first child, a little girl as pretty as her mother, arrived. Two mouths to feed strained Victors wages; three would be impossible. Frustrated, Victor shouted, Im fed up paying half a salary to my uncle for a flat. Lets move back to the village until Lily grows up, and thats final.
So they packed their belongings and drove to the Cotswolds. Victors parents had bought a new house there, leaving the old one empty. Victor found work on a farm as a mechanicstill respectable, though the pay was modest, and they didnt pay rent. Primrose hesitated at first, Why bring me back to the sticks? but soon relaxed; Rose and Victors mother helped with the baby, supplying food as they always had. It felt less a hardship than a fairytale.
Soon the tale twisted. Rose and Victors mother began to complain that Primrose spent hours before mirrors, while they were crouched in the garden. Let the granddaughter sit with us, they urged. Primrose, still young, preferred the vegetable patch. Victor, glancing at her, understood and let her pull carrots, a whole summer without a single weed. The next summer she decided to plant her own garden, realizing she didnt have to beg her parents for every carrot.
Victor started breeding bullocks, hoping for profit. The farm yielded hay and feed, and the cattle multiplied. The grandparents moved to the nearby town and gifted a young cow to the couple. At first Primrose struggled with the early mornings, but soon she fell into the rhythm.
Four years later a vacancy opened at the local nursery when a longserving assistant retired. Primrose stepped in, and the modest household finally settled. She never noticed how the glamorous city dreams faded into the background when every day was filled with chores from dawn to dusk.
Now her motherinlaw lived in the town, her daughter went to school, and Primrose stayed in the village, eventually becoming head of the nursery. Victor suggested, Maybe its time we think about moving closer to civilization?
Victor, she replied, whats wrong with this? We have our house, our garden, our little farm. Money isnt tight, and we still visit the city often. Im happy here; who would run the nursery if I left?
Twenty years slipped by like a single day. The old school class reunited for the first time since graduation. Many classmates had become city dwellers; a few, like Katie, had always tended the farm, later trained as a chef, married a businessman, and now lived in a sleek flat. Another, Tanya, married a classmate, moved to the city, and now owned a car and a boutique, though shed once dreamed only of rural life.
The reunion was warm, phones were swapped, and stories of twisted fortunes were shared. Primrose and Victor returned home, thoughtful and serious, each lost in their own reverie.
Forgive me, Primrose, for taking you out of the city when I knew you couldnt stand the countryside, Victor said.
Dont mention it, she laughed. I drive my car just the same, and were no worse off than anyone else. City life has its sour points, too. I love the village now; the city tires me out. I used to think it was shameful not to help at homemy parents spoiled me. If you hadnt dragged me back then, we might still be renting or paying a mortgage. Remember how I dreaded washing a plate? Here, at home, with you, Ive learned work is everywhere. Were not far from the city; we can move whenever we want. We have work, a roof, and everything else for happiness.
Yes, Primrose, when did you finally love the village? Victor asked.
I always loved it, I just didnt understand it, she answered. Never say never. Remember how I shouted Id never live here? Turns out
