Do you know, Poppy, that to look like thisdressed in goldI wake every day at five oclock, milking the cows, feeding the calves, handing out the feed, and only then do I head off to my proper job. Theres nothing for anyone to be jealous of, she said, her voice a thin thread pulling at the edges of the dream.
Ah, Lottie! Youre a vision! You couldve been a city girl, yet here you are, glittering in goldchains, bracelets, even a tiny golden cuff. Everyone in town would hop the train straight to the village just to see you. Living in the countryside, looking so splendid, dressed so flamboyantly, sparkling like a sunrise over the hedgerows! Lottie chattered on, the words spilling like rain.
You think Im a fairy, Poppy? To wear this gold I rise at five, tend the milking shed, give the calves their bottles, dish out the fodder, then scramble to my real work. If you ever saw the rhythm of village life, youd understand why theres nothing to envy. She laughed, the sound echoing off the barns wooden beams.
Lottie, Ive known cows and pigs since we were kneehigh to the grass, while you seemed to turn into a country aunt out of the blue. We always guessed youd never come back home after school, Poppy replied, her eyes wide as if she were watching the moon rise over a field of lavender.
Back then, we were all idealists, convinced the world would bend to our plans. Life, however, turned a different leaf, Poppy murmured, the words drifting like autumn leaves on a wind that smelled of hay.
Lotties will was ironclad; when she said something, she did it. From childhood she declared that the village with its gardens, potatoes, cows, and calves didnt need the stench of hay, because sheso pretty and cleverwas destined for greater things and would never need the livestock again.
Ill never return to your village, Mother. Ill finish school, move to London, find a rich fiancé, marry him, and live there. Theres no place for me in the countryside! she declared, her voice a sudden gale.
Perhaps, dear Lottie, but who can map the future? The village isnt worse than the city; people live there, too. If youd fetch the cows, dear, I could finish the dinner while youre at it, her mother, Mabel, said softly, a whisper in the dreamfilled kitchen.
Imagine me herding cows! The whole village would laugh. I wont even lift a hand, Motherlet the cows meet each other without me, Lottie snapped, her words sharp as thorns.
Other children helped with the herd, assisted their parents. What makes you better than them, dear? Mabel asked.
My mind is my own, Lottie answered, her voice a distant bell.
Mabel sighed, her shoulders sinking under the weight of the evening, as she walked to meet the grazing cows while her daughter painted her face with layers of cosmetics for the village disco that glittered like a mirage.
Lotties friends stared enviously at the local queen, a girl who never bothered with chores, never washed a plate, never stepped foot in the barn. She seemed clueless about which side of the cows to approachlike a lateborn child, unexpected and unbidden. Their older sister had long married, already doted on grandchildren, while Mabel discovered she was expecting again, giving birth almost simultaneously with her elder, just two months apart. How could one not spoil a little one?
Time rolled on; the children grew, the adults aged. Lottie finished school with a string of middling gradesnothing spectacular, but enough ambition to stay afloat. She chose to train as a nursery teacher, a job clean and respectable, worthy of admiration.
Mabel sighed again, this time with the weight of a few bulls sold with her husband, the proceeds covering Lotties tuition for a year.
No one saw at first that Lottie was caught between worlds. In her final college year, she kept slipping back home, polishing herself before the mirror, gazing out the window as if waiting for someone who never arrived. She grew rounder, more confident, and one weekend her inlaws arrived with a proposal: We have wares, you have a buyer.
The parents didnt understand the jokes of the inlaws. Lottie, impatient, threw herself into a romance with a local lad, Vladimir, who had stayed after college and become her fouryearold beau. Their love unfolded like a slow sunrise.
They married while Lottie was still in college, heavily pregnant, rumors swirling that her grades were passed only because of her circumstances rather than merit. They rented a flat in London and tried to survive on modest wages. Mabel sent parcels of provisions to keep the young couple fed.
In maternity leave, their daughter, Emma, was bornjust as beautiful as her mother. Two mouths were barely fed on Vladimirs salary; three made it impossible. Frustrated, Vladimir snapped, Enough! Im tired of halfpaying the landlords uncle for a flat. Lets move back to the village until Emma grows, and thats final.
They packed their few belongings and headed for the Cotswold village where Vladimirs parents had bought a new house, leaving the old one empty. Vladimir found work on the farm as a mechanica skilled trade, though the pay was lower than the city, it covered everything, and they didnt pay rent. Lottie hesitated at first, Why bring me back to the fields? but soon settled, comforted by the presence of both mothers and a bustling household that supplied food as it always had. It felt more like a fairy tale than a life.
Soon the fairy tale frayed. The mothers argued that Lottie spent hours before the mirror while they toiled in the garden. Let the granddaughter sit with us, Lottie, they chided. Lottie, still young, preferred the soil under her nails. She shouted back, only to be silenced by Vladimirs sideways glance, and she went to pull carrots. The summer passed without a single weed; the garden was a perfect picture. The next summer, she decided to plant her own plot, weary of asking her parents for every carrot.
Vladimir decided to raise calves, thinking it profitablefarm, hay, feed, everything. Where there were calves, there were cows. Lotties parents moved to the nearest town and gifted a cow to the young couple. At first, Lottie struggled with the early mornings, but soon she was in rhythm with the sunrise.
Four years later, a vacancy opened at the local nursery when a retiree left. Lottie stepped in, the enterprise blossoming, and she finally felt settled.
Dreams of city life slipped to the background. With dawntodusk chores, there was little room for fantasy. The motherinlaw had moved to the town, the daughter attended school, and Lottie, now the head of the nursery, watched the village life spin gently around her.
Vladimir nudged, Maybe its time we near civilization again?
What? Here we have our house, our garden, the nurseryplenty of money. We still visit London often. Im happy; who would run the nursery if I left? Lottie replied. When Emma finishes school, well see, Vladimir said, eyes drifting to the distant horizon.
Twenty years drifted by like a single breath. A class reunion was arranged, the first since school. Many faces from the village and the city appeared. Lottie saw old friends she hadnt met since childhoodKat and Tamsin, now thirtysomething. The gathering was a swirl of surprise.
Its strange how life twists, Kat laughed, having spent her life on the farm, later training as a chef, marrying a city businessman, and now thriving in a sleek apartment. Look at me now! she said, flashing a grin.
Tamsin, who had married her schoolmate Michael, now drove a sleek car, owned a townhouse, and her husband ran a boutique. She never imagined shed ever live in a city, yet here she was.
The classmates exchanged numbers, marveled at the turns their lives had taken, and drifted back to their own paths. Lottie and Vladimir returned home, thoughtful, each lost in their own reverie.
Forgive me, Lottie, for pulling you away from the city when you could not stand village life, Vladimir murmured.
Dont be ridiculous, love! I still drive, we live no worse than anyone else. The city isnt all sweet; every place has its merits. I love the village now. Im weary of the citys bustle. As a child, I never helped at home because my parents spoiled me. I thought it was shameful, but it was just love. If you hadnt taken me to the village, wed still be in a rented flat or paying a mortgage. Remember how I dreaded cleaning my plate? Here, at home with you, Ive learned that work is everywhere. Were not far from the city; we could move anytime. We have work, a roofwhat more do we need for happiness?
Lottie, when did you truly love the village? Vladimir asked.
Ive always loved it, just didnt understand it. Never say never. Remember how I shouted Id never live in the countryside? Look where we are now.
