A loud clatter came from the next room. Tipping over a pot, Agatha rushed in. The boy stood frozen, staring at the shattered vase.
“What have you done?” the old woman shouted, swatting her grandson with a damp tea towel.
“Nan, Ill clean it up!” he yelped, scrambling for the broken pieces.
“Ill clean you up!” she snapped, bringing the towel down again. “Sit on the bed and dont move!”
Once shed swept up the mess, she returned to the kitchen. A puddle covered the floor, with potatoes scattered in itthankfully still raw. She gathered them, washed them, and put them in the oven. Sinking into a chair, she wiped her eyes, cursing her daughter under her breath.
“Why, why does everyone else have a proper family? And me? No husband of my own, and now my daughters the same. At least it was just us. But noshe had to go to the station in town and bring back a prison guard for me to feed. Three years writing letters, and shes never even met him! And now hell be living here. As if feeding her and the boy wasnt enough. Well, Ill make sure this son-in-law doesnt last. Hell run soon enough.”
“Nan, can I go outside?”
“Go on, then! But wrap up warm. And stay away from the riverthe icell break any day now.”
“Alright, Nan!”
A car pulled up outside. Agatha peered through the window. From here, she could see the mans face was scarred. What was that foolish girl thinking? A prison guard, and ugly as sin.
The door opened. In they came.
“Fionas brought her fiancé home.”
“Ah, just the man I wanted to see,” smirked the village constable. “Need to check his release papers. And see what sort of chap your son-in-law is.”
“Off you gotheyre having lunch. And hes no son-in-law of mine, never will be.”
***
Agatha went to fetch the boy. Didnt take longthere he was, running about with his mates. But she wasnt keen on going home yet, so she lingered with the neighbours for a natter. Sooner or later, though, she had to go back.
She eyed the enormous logs. How was she supposed to split those? Sighing, she grabbed an axe from the shed and started chipping away at the smallest one. Just as she was about to swing again, a strong hand caught the axe.
“Aunt Agatha, let me try.”
“Go on, then,” she muttered, glaring at the stranger.
He ran a thumb along the blade and frowned.
“Got a sharpening stone?”
“Theres one in the workshopwhere my husband used to tinker.”
***
Harold stepped inside and blinked. The place was crammed with tools. The grindstone still workedhe fired it up, honed the axe, then grabbed the splitting maul leaning nearby.
Out he went, cleaving the logs in two, then chopping them into firewood. By evening, every log was split and stacked in the shed.
Agatha came out, shook her headthen, just for a second, almost smiled.
“Aunt Agatha,” Harold said, “those planks by the fence”
“Useless. Wont saw.”
“Come have a look at minesame problem. Maybe we can salvage one from the two.”
They went to old Berts place. His chainsaw was knackered, but the sprocket was sound, and the chain still had life.
“Take the lot,” Bert grinned. “If you get it running, you can saw up my timber too.”
***
Later, a neighbour called out, “Listensplit mine and stack em in the shed!” and shoved two fifty-pound notes into Harolds hand.
When he got home, he laid the money on the table. “Aunt Agatha, take this.”
She hesitated, then nodded, a pleased flicker in her eyes. Cash was rare in the villagefavours were the usual currency.
***
Next day, Harold tinkered with the rotavator. Nearly time to plough the gardens. Then the boy came sprinting in, wild-eyed.
“We were sliding on the ice, and Jeremy got carried offhe cant jump back!”
Agatha and Fiona bolted outside, all of them racing for the river.
The ice floe, with the boy clinging to it, drifted further and further from the bank. And downstream, massive chunks of ice bore downsomewhere upstream, the jam mustve broken.
Fiona wailed.
But Harold was already plunging into the freezing water, swimming hard. He hauled himself onto the floe just as a colossal slab of ice loomeditd crush them in seconds.
“Listen, Jere,” Harold crouched low. “Youre a proper lad, yeah? When that big one hits, we jump onto itor were done. Only got one shot. Ready? Grab my hand! Now!”
He hurled the boy onto the advancing ice, then leapt after him, his leg slamming against the edge. Blood soaked his trouser leg. The boy stared at his scraped palms, trembling.
The current quickened, sweeping them toward the bend.
***
On the bank, the crowd watched in horror.
“Theyre done for,” someone muttered.
“Maybe not,” the constable said. “River turns sharp up aheadand Harolds no fool.”
Then he sprinted for his Land Rover.
Harold hugged the shivering boy. “One down, lad. Next bits trickywell hit that outcrop hard. Move to the other side.”
The shore rushed closer. Impact! They skidded across the ice, landing on pebbles.
“Alive!” Harold hoisted the boy up.
“Arm hurts. Leg too.”
“Pfft,” Harold grinned. “Youll heal by your wedding day.”
“But its bleeding!”
“Tough it out. Gotta get to the road.”
The boy rubbed his elbow. “Stings.”
“Quit whingeing. Youre a bloke, arent you?”
***
Minutes later, they reached the roadjust as the Land Rover skidded to a halt.
“Still breathing?” the constable called.
“Barely,” Harold grimaced.
“Christ, you look rough. Get inhospital, now.”
***
Fiona sobbed on the bed. Agatha paced by the window. The phones ringtone made them both jump. Fiona snatched it up*Constable* flashed on the screen.
“What? Whats happened?” she screamed.
“Jeremys fineall patched up. Here, talk to him.”
“Mum?” came the boys voice.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
“‘Course! Im not a baby!”
“See, Fiona? Alls well,” the constable cut in.
Agatha grabbed the phone. “Tom, Tomwhat about Harold?”
“Getting stitched up. Hold onhes here.”
Harolds voice crackled through. “Yeah, Im alright.”
“Aunt Agatha, theyre both fine,” the constable said. “Bringing em home soon.”
Agatha sagged with relief, then jerked her chin at Fiona. “Stop blubbering. Those menll be starvingbet theyve not eaten all day. “Get the stew on, then,” Agatha said, already pulling the pot from the shelf. “And set an extra placelooks like were feeding a proper family after all.”
