The story was told many years later, when the old house in the Cotswolds had grown quiet and the voices of the past seemed to echo off the stone walls.
Who dares to turn up unannounced? bellowed David Thompson, his voice cracking like a whip. If youve come to cause trouble, you may as well go back the way you came!
Father, what on earth? stammered Andrew Parker, eyes wide. I havent set foot in this house for twenty years, and now you meet me like this!
If it were my wish, Id have you struck with a belt, David snarled, reaching for his waistcoat strap. But never mindthats a story for another time. Well sort things out now.
Take it easy, father, Andrew backed away, hands raised. Im no childI can stand my own ground!
Ah, theres the spirit of the boy, David sneered, dropping the strap. You bully the weak, flee the strong, cheat the good, and serve the wicked!
Then tell me why youre so angry, and what you accuse me of, Andrew said, shrugging. If any fault lies with me, two decades have passed; time has softened it and forgiven it.
Its easy to speak so when your guilt is in the past, David replied coldly. Youd like everyone to absolve you, but I have no pardon to give.
Where could I be guilty before you? Andrew protested. I spent all my school days dreaming of a life the family called a traitor. My parents sent me off to the naval academy and forbade my return. They never answered any of my letters, though I wrote them over and over.
Do you not know? David taunted.
Andrews face clouded with bewilderment, and before he could press the point, his mother entered, her voice sharp as a winter wind.
Enough of this! cried Mary Whitfield, wiping her hands on a woollen apron. Youve brought shame upon our family! Drive him away, you fool, before he drags our name through the mud!
Andrew froze, as still as a statue, while his mother added, If the Good Lord gave me strength, I would have seized you by the throat! I see now that fate itself has marked you for folly, she gestured toward the dark circle beneath Andrews eye.
David chuckled, Well played, someone. Id shake his hand for that.
Parents, what are you doing? Andrew shouted, his temper flaring. Are you out of your minds? Ive been away for twenty yearswhy this sudden hostility?
Who fed you this idea? David asked. Well send you packing, and when the time comes, well thank him for it.
Do I even know who him is? Andrew snapped. I was on a coach heading home when my neighbour Pete recognised me and rushed to greet me. The coach stopped, a young man leapt out, shoved me in the face and spat, then fled. I was left stunned and his footprints vanished.
David laughed, A mystery hero, indeed. Well have Pete tell us who struck you.
Father, is that all that matters to you? Andrew cried. Just because Ive been away, you think I can simply disappear?
Why, traitor, are you even here? Mary snapped.
Why am I a traitor? Andrew demanded.
Because a voice from the kitchen shouted, because you are a coward!
Whos this brave fool? Andrew roared.
A lanky boy stepped into the light, his eyes glittering.
That scrawny lad gave me a black eye! Andrew shouted, pointing at the youth.
Well done, grandson! David beamed. You didnt miss your chance!
Grandson? Andrew recoiled. What are you talking about?
Mary stepped in front of him, shielding him. Your son, the one we thought youd abandoned.
I have no son! Andrew exploded, his voice shaking. I never had one! If I did, Id know.
Remember why you fled the village twenty years ago, David said, his tone heavy with old grief.
***
Andrew never called his departure a runaway. It had been a planned departure, though he left earlier than intended, for reasons he kept to himself.
He had to travel farnearly across the whole countryto attend a technical college. The scholarship he received barely covered a modest existence, and asking his parents for money from such a distance seemed absurd. They could only send food, and who could ship a loaf of bread across England?
There was a second cause. Just before he left, the village was in turmoil; the local families fought bitterly, and the young women were being courted with no end. Andrew preferred to escape that storm.
When asked plainly, Why? he would have answered, I wanted a life by the sea, not a cottage with a neverending quarrel. The sea had entered his plans by chance.
After school, he first served his country in the Royal Navy. Years at sea taught him that the open water was not for him. When he returned, a pamphlet in his pocket offered a place at a naval engineering college. Yet before beginning his studies, he took to the streets to drink, to fight, to prove that he could still feel something other than the hulls steel.
Young men after their service were known to revel without restraintdrinking at the pub till they lost consciousness, then swapping tales of daring deeds. They did it everywhere: at a kitchen table, in a backalley brawl, even with the opposite sex.
Andrew, now understanding a little of the world, watched these revelers. He saw proud soldiers return, intent on reshaping the world, yet quickly shackled by marriage, children, and a farm. He refused that fate. No matter how wild his nights, he kept his belt tight, his trousers buttoned, and even sewed his own waistcoat before stepping out.
He faced many hardships, but he preferred a brief trial to a lifelong misery.
His good looks and clear ambition earned him admiration among the villages young womena respectable reputation, unmarred by scandal. Yet he was besieged from every side. Suitors came with gifts, promising tenderness, while his own parents sent delegations hoping to arrange a match through them.
Seeing the pressure, he realised he could not defend his own position, nor could he keep his parents from being swayed. So he left the village a month early, taking a boat to the port, renting a berth in a hostel, enrolling at the college, and writing home to say he had arrived safely and was settling in.
His parents replied with a bitter letter, branding him a traitor, a coward, and a scoundrel, writing that he no longer had any family, that his place was at the bottom of the sea.
Confused, Andrew wrote again, asking for an explanation, but received no telegrams. He could have rushed back, but his studies held him. He kept writing, day after day.
When he finally earned his diploma, a single folded note arrived from home, barely a scrap of paper: May you drown, traitor! Coward! It was signed not by his mother or father, but by David Thompson and Mary Whitfield.
He could not fathom the reason, but it was clear: his family no longer awaited him.
Instead of returning, he signed a naval contract and went back to sea. Every six months he would set foot on British soil, send another letter, and then sail again, no longer expecting a reply.
He was now in his forties when the need to uncover why his parents had turned on him grew stronger than any voyage.
The reunion was anything but gentle.
What are you running from? Andrew mimicked, his voice low. From the fact you never arranged a proper marriage for me? From the council of the whole village that plotted to place me wherever it suited them?
I saw the gifts, heard the promises, David replied. You knew we wanted you to study, yet you still fled.
We wanted a good match for you, but you married a girl called Rosamund and ran away! Mary shouted, venom in her tone. Shes an orphan! She came to us after you left, asking for advice about a child she claimed you had. We thought wed throw our own grandson to the mercy of fate.
When did she come? Andrew asked. I wrote to you a month after I left, and you told me not to return.
We were told Rosamund was pregnant, David said. You told her to have an abortion and cut her off from your life!
Very interesting, Andrew said dryly. And you? After I was expelled from the house?
We took her in, Mary answered. She had no one else. She even carried our grandchilds heart inside her. Look, we raised a boy named Stanley.
Bring Rosamund here, Andrew demanded. We need to sort this out.
Stanley, now a grown man, stepped forward. My mother died ten years ago. My grandparents raised me, he said.
Marvelous, Andrew said, shaking his head. And my father met his son eyetoeye!
You killed my mothers unborn child! Stanley roared. At least my grandparents were decent people.
It seems youre all righteous, and Im the sole traitor, Andrew muttered.
Not only a traitor, but a coward! David added. You fled responsibility, sent a poor girl to terminate her pregnancy, and left us to believe a lie.
We believed the girls story, Mary said. She told us shed given birth to a son. You called her a liar in your last letter!
Did you see the letter? Andrew asked.
In contrast to you, we trusted the poor girl, Mary replied.
Then lets do a DNA test, Andrew suggested. If Im the father, you can hang me at the gate!
The test came back negative. Andrew handed the results to his parents.
Everything clear now? he asked. Rosamund already knew I wasnt the father, but she came to you.
The tragedy isnt that you believed a strangers lie, David said, its that you accepted our son as a coward and traitor.
For twenty years I chased answers; you never forgave me. Now I need no forgiveness. I might have pitied you, but I do not. So farewell, though you said goodbye to me twenty years ago.
Andrew boarded a ship and left, while Stanley stayed behind, milking the old couples memories, still claiming to be their beloved grandson, insisting the test was wrong and that his mother was saintly.
And that, dear listener, is how the tale of a wayward son and a familys bitter legacy drifted into the mist of memory.
