Tommy sniffled as he dragged a dry pine log on his big sled. It had fallen right at the edge of the villagenormally forbidden to take, but old Arthur, the local forester, had whispered to him, “Wait till dark, then take it.”
The boy strained, pulling the heavy wood with all his might.
“Tommy? Tommy!” A voice called out. Of courseit was sharp-eyed Lucy, his classmate.
“What d’you want?”
“Let me help.”
She was a proper handful, that onewhere did a girl get such strength? Still, it was easier with two. They hitched themselves to the sled and hauled it together.
“Whos watching the little ones, Tommy?”
“Gran, who else? Mums at work.”
“Oh. I came by to help with your schoolwork, but it was dark at your place, door locked. Little Alfie shouted through itsaid youd gone toward the woods. Told ’em to stay put.”
“Had to lock it…”
“She still… runs off?”
“Does. Keeps sayin shes goin back to England, to her mum.”
“Oh, poor soul. Suffers herself, makes you all suffer too.”
“Yeah.”
The pair dragged the log to Tommys house.
“Cheers, Lucy.”
“Dont mention it. Fetch the sawlets chop it quick.”
“Ill manage. Youve helped enough.”
“Right. Youll either hack at it with a handsaw or well do it proper.”
They took up the saw together, and soon neat, dry chunks littered the ground.
Through the window, little Alfies and two-year-old Annies faces pressed against the glass.
Tommy grabbed the axe, drove it clean into a logcrack! Another strike, then another. The piece split clean in two.
Lucy gathered wood chips while Tommy worked. Once they had a stack, they carried it inside. The boy lit the stove in a flash, and soon firelight danced across the ceiling.
Warmth seeped in.
“Let me make soup for you. Auntie Lizll be home lateone less thing for her.”
“Nah, were fine,” Tommy mumbled, cheeks pink. “Granll do it.”
“Oh no, no, Tommy!” Alfie whined. “Let Lucy cook, eh? Remember last time Gran made that muck? Lucy does it propercabbage, peas, even Mums dill seeds. Gran chucked it all in once when Annie was poorly, made it foul!”
“Ill cook, Alfie. You help.”
“Whose girl are you?” A voice croaked from the stovean old woman in boots, a quilted coat, and a shawl.
“Gran, get down. Its warm now.”
“Freezin, Jimmy.”
“Jimmy? Im Tommy, your grandson.”
“Eh? Wheres Jimmy then?”
“Gone… hell be back soon.”
“Is she on about Uncle Jim?” Lucy whispered.
“Yeah… shes not right since he left. Got worse.”
“Why didnt he take her? His own mum!”
Tommy shrugged. He hated this talk.
JimmyToms dad, Lizs husband. Ran off to his fancy woman. Not only left Gran with them, but did it in winter, sly as a fox. Slaughtered the pigs, took the meat, even led away their only cow and the heifer, Daisy.
Mum begged, “At least leave the heiferwell raise her for milk.”
He just laughed. “What sort of groom turns up empty-handed?”
Tommy hated him from that moment. Cleared out half the storestook sacks of potatoes, even divided the cutlery, counting spoons while Mum stood silent…
Liz came home to find the kids at the table by the oil lamp. Tommy read fairy tales to Alfie. Gran dozed by the stove. Annie sucked her thumb, asleep behind her.
“Mum,” Alfie whispered, “its proper warm. Tommy got wood, him and Lucy chopped it, lit the stove. Lucy made soupproper nice. Annies asleep. Gran ran off to England twice. We caught her.”
Liz undressed, smiled faintly, ruffled Alfies messy hair.
“Tommy… you do too much.”
“Salright, Mum. Sit, eatsoups good.”
After supper, Liz mended clothes. A knock rattled the window.
“Whos that, Tommy? Check.”
The door burst open, icy air swirling in with a plump, bundled-up woman.
“Blimey, bitter out! Gonna drop below freezing tonightMarch my foot! Liz, love, brought you some cracklings and a bit of lard. Here.”
“Ta, Val, but you shouldnt”
“Rubbish! You got flour?”
“Bit left.”
“Right, heres two bottles of milkfrozen since winterand some eggs. Bake something. Well manage till spring, then… plant the garden, thingsll ease. Dont fret over seed potatoesJohn said well share. Use what youve got. And…” Val whispered in Lizs ear.
“Oh, Val, what if they find out?”
“Who? You got crowds round here? Our sows due any day. Dont fret, Liz… well manage.”
Two nights later, Val smuggled in a piglet the size of a mitten. She worked as a swineherd on the collective farm.
“Scary, Val. What if they notice?”
“Wont. Hed have diedthirteen in the litter. Took the strongest.”
Next day, Liz was called to the office. She hugged the kids goodbye.
“Mum,” Tommy wept, “maybe itll blow over?”
“Dunno, son. Look after the littluns…”
The chairmana mate of Jimmys, Lizs exavoided her eyes. “Report to the farm, Liz.”
“What for, Frank?”
“Just go. Heres a chit for milk. Take a pigletValll pick a good un. Or two?”
“Howll I feed”
“Youve got milk now. Come April, the farmll give you a heifer. Take it?”
“Ill take it,” Liz said dryly. “Can I go?”
“Go on. Liz” he called as she left.
“Yeah?”
“Forgive me.”
“For what, Frank?”
“For Jim. Never thought hed turn out such a rotter. A bit of funs one thing, but abandonin kids? His own mum? Then cleanin you out… only just heard. Whyd you stay quiet? Got spuds?”
“Some.”
“Right. Dont suffer in silence. Well bring firewood too…”
So Liz livedwith the kids and Gran, whod lost her memory, barely knowing who or where she was.
It was hard. Tommy did his bit. Lucythe chairmans daughterhelped loads, minding the kids or pitching in. Even Alfie did what he could. They scraped by.
The piglet Val smuggled thrived. Then two morelittle curly-tailed runts, snouts like buttons.
One evening, walking home, a neighbor called out.
“Liz, love…”
“Yeah, Auntie Kath?”
“Let Tommy fix my roof, eh? Ill paygot cracklings from last autumn still…”
“No, ta. Wont have him work for scraps. Were not starvin.”
“Listen, Lizwent to see Betty tother day. Your Jims with that hussy… proper piece of work, she is. Saw em on a cart, him drivin, hat cocked, her clingin on behind, laughin like drains. Kids near starvin? Not his problem!”
“Who says were starvin? Were fine!”
Liz hurried off.
“Fine, my foot! Youre blue with cold, kids half-starved! We all know Jim stripped you bare!”
Liz ran home, hid in the shed, and wept.
A scratch at the door.
“Mum? You in there?”
“Liz… Im a burden. When I come round, I see it… wore you out, wearin the kids out too.”
“What? Whatre you on about?” Liz yanked a rope from Grans hands. “Whyd you do this to me? Whatve I done wrong, Mum?”
She sobbed. Gran cried too, tears tracing her weathered face.
“Come inside. Well bake turnovers today.”
“Aye, love.”
By spring, Gran took to her bed. Kept callin for her son.
“Val, dunno what to do. She wants Jim. I cant fetch him.”
“Ill tell John…”
Jim never came to say goodbye. Sent money, grunted to John, “For the funeral.”
The village judged him, of course. What of it? First time? When he ran off to that hussy, tongues wagged then too. But he didnt love Lizsaid she was dull as ditchwater, while that hussy was fire.
Married Liz on a whimshed just arrived on assignment, tiny, shy. Never seen a girl like her. Had her that first night, quick as you like. Whatd she do?
Another lassd have fought. She just cried softly, clutchin her nightdress.
So he kept at it. No fight in herorphan, no mum or dad…
Then she swelled up. Was he a monster? Grew up fatherless himself. Married her.
Even grew fond, in a way. Good housekeeper, got on with his mum, clean… Loved him, plain as day.
Second bairn came when he met that hussy. Whend she grown up so? Sturdy, smolderin eyes, smelled of wild herbs…
Thought itd just be a fling. But she wrapped him tight, that one.
Left. Shut his eyes and jumped. Three kids abandoned. But hed loved em, loved em!
Thensnap!all went dark. Howd he reckon?
Kids? Theyd grow. He had. That hussy promised him new ones…
Tommy turns away in the streetknife to the heart, that. The littluns barely remember him. Whats he to do? Fell in love…
They judge. Call him a devil, orphanin his kids, not sayin goodbye to his mum.
Couldnt. Couldnt face Lizs quiet eyes.
That day, full of himself, hed taken everything… Then… ah, they judge. Whos seen inside his soul? They say its black. Maybe so…
Jim knelt by the fresh mound and wooden cross with a white cloth.
“Forgive me, Mum…”
“She forgave you, Jim. Came round at the end.”
“You… why here?” He scowled at Liz.
“Brought breakfast. Christian custom… Here. Drink, remember her…”
Silence.
“Ill go. You… talk to her.”
“Will she hear?”
“Shell hear, Jim. A mothers heart… its like that.”
Liz turned away.
“Lifes just… life, Jim. Twists you where it will.”
