Eleanor never loved her boys; she saw them as stupid, narrowminded, rough and uncouth, just like their father.
Mum, whats for dinner? shouted Jack, the eldest, his voice already deep, a thin patch of hair sprouting on his chin. His hands, long and wiry like his fathers, ended in thick, calloused fingers that could crush a bottle in a single grip.
Eleanor knew Jack was already prowling the village, drifting from one older widow to anotherwomen who had been abandoned by their husbands and now stared shamelessly at any young man, even teenagers, with a hunger that made Eleanors stomach turn. She warned one of them, a woman named Daisy, Dont go after Jack, hes just a boy, barely fifteen. Daisy laughed wildly, a sound that made Eleanors eyes water with disgust.
From that moment Eleanors feelings for Jack turned cold. He reminded her of his fathercrude, always drunk on cheap gin and garlicflavored bacon, his filthy hands everywhere they didnt belong. He had tramped through every old lady in Ashford, and Eleanor, forced into marriage, had no one to protect her. The old spinster who arranged the match sneered, What are you, love, trying to tie yourself to a scoundrel? Look at Harryhandsome, respectable. Every girl swoons over him; you should be grateful. Eleanor wept, Ill go to London, find work in a factory, learn, make a life for myself. The spinster barked, Youll never leave this place, youll end up like the rest of them. Her blows were harsh, her words cruel, as if she were trying to break Eleanors spirit.
Harry, older and more settled, took Eleanor into his home. His mother at first huffed, complaining about the choice of daughterinlaw, but eventually softened, pitying Eleanor as he tormented her at night. He called her weak, a frail girl who could barely bear the weight of his demands.
Children began to arriveboys, one after another, each one turning into a miniature Harry. Eleanor loved them fiercely, until they grew up and became just like him, and then she turned into a terrible mother.
War took Harry away, leaving him a broken husk, and countless men never returned. When the three remaining sons went to the front, five more darkhaired lads showed up in the village, their eyes cold as blackberries. Eleanor gave birth to three more boys; not a single daughter ever came.
The house was haunted by his presence; before night fell, he would follow her, pinch her, grab her waist, press his weight against her. Eleanor always delayed his entry into the bedroom, inventing chores and excuses. When Harry announced he was leaving for widowed soldier Lucy Browne, Eleanor exhaled, a sigh of relief.
Jack fought his father that night; Eleanor bandaged his arm, stroked his head as she once had as a child, and muttered, Let the boy go, let him be. Dont be scared, mum, well manage, Jack whispered, his voice trembling as he prepared to marry a delicate, bigeyed girl named Lily.
Eleanor shook her head, They all turn into Harry, theyre all the same, she muttered, watching Lily dart around the kitchen, thin and supple like a vine. Lily pressed herself against Simons chest, clinging like a calf to its mother, and he kissed her forehead gently, as if she were his own child.
From then on Eleanor kept a close watch on her sons, waiting for any sign they might treat their wives the way Harry didgrabbing, pulling them onto the bed at will. She found none. No, Lord, no! she cried, feeling suddenly blind to the love that had always been there. It took her many years to realize that the boys she thought were monsters were merely reflections of the men who raised them.
One afternoon, she entered the room of her eldest, asking, Jack, everything alright? He replied, All good, mum, anything wrong? Any trouble with the new daughterinlaw? We have room if you need it. His words came slowly, his speech always careful, a habit formed from childhood.
Dont worry, my dear, if anything happens, said Kate, Jacks wife, trying to soothe Eleanor. We were just having tea, feeling a little nostalgic. My son, forgive your mother for being a bad mother, Eleanor whispered, tears spilling. I wasnt a good mother, I know that now.
She turned to Lily, pleading, Will you give me a granddaughter? Lily giggled, Im trying, Mum, and soon gave birth to two girls, Olivia and Grace, who became the treasured grandchildren, the bright princesses of Eleanors heart.
At last Eleanor swore, Ill raise these girls, teach them well, protect them from the fate that befell my boys. She kept her promise; Olivia and Grace grew up to excel in their professions, always honoring their grandmother with kind words, and they loved Eleanor dearly.
So, did Eleanor truly hate her sons? Of course not. She loved them, even if they grew into men like Harry. She could not hate the children she carried beneath her heart. In the end, she forgave Harry, even loved him a little, and found peace in the laughter of her granddaughters.
