Gran never took to young Victor…
She just didnt, and that was thatcalled him a little devil, a good-for-nothing, a chatterbox. Victor, in turn, mouthed off to her and played all sorts of nasty tricks.
Shed set the dough to rise, and hed toss in fennel seeds or anise. By the time the dough swelled over the bowl, Gran would knead it, only to find it speckled with seeds.
“Eat it, then,” shed grumble.
“Not a chance. You have it.”
“Oh, you wretched boy! You never lived through the war, through the hunger.”
“Oh, and you did, I suppose?”
“I did, I did… Scrounging for stray ears of corn in the fields, digging up last years frozen potatoeswhat a blessing if we found one! Come spring, the greens sprouted, and then we feastednettle soup, bread made from goosefoot, wild garlic, sorrel…”
“Sorrel? What, you ate… people?”
“Dont be daft! Its a plant, you silly boy. Tasty, too. Then came the berries, the mushrooms… We survived. And you dare complain…”
Sometimes, Gran and Victor managed a truce, but as he grew older, those days grew fewer.
“Ill tell Mum how you treat me!”
“Oh, will you now? Listen to himsuch cheek! Go on, then, run to your mother. Good riddance.”
“And I will!”
“Off you go, then. Shell be thrilled to have you back, dumped like a pup in a ditch…”
Victors mother, after years on her own, had remarried. The stepfather wasnt a bad sortdidnt drink like Victors real father, whod frozen to death one winter, didnt smokebut he was a right miser.
Victors dad had been kind. A pint or two, and hed be merry, buying Victor toys and sweets, lifting Mum off her feet and spinning her round while she scolded him. The stepfather? Not a chance.
When Mum introduced Victor to him, the mans face soured.
“So, Katherine, how longs the lad staying?”
“Hes my son,” Mum said firmly. “You knew I had a child.”
“Well, hes managed without us till now, hasnt he?”
“Hes been with Gran during holidays.”
“Then let him stay there.”
“But hes got school!”
“What, no schools where she lives?”
Victor couldnt hold his tongue. “Hes lying, Mum! I never ate three sweetsyou gave me one this morning, and thats it!”
The stepfather begrudged every mouthful Victor ate, refused to buy him clothes, made life miserable. Mum talked it over with Gran and sent Victor back to her.
“Mum, why dyou need him? Werent things better when it was just us?”
“Victor… its hard alone, so hard. I thought hed be a husband to me, a father to you. But hes worse than a beast.”
“Leave him, then. Lets live like we used to.”
“I cant, love. We gave up our old room…”
“Then ask for it back! Say you made a mistake marrying that miser. Theyll understand.”
“Its not that simple…”
Mum held Victor tight and wept.
“Dont cry… Is it because of me? If I stay with Gran, will he treat you better? Then take me there.”
Mum visited rarely. Victor missed her terribly, and when she did come, theyd talk for hours, inseparable.
Gran would smile then, calling them her little ones, bustling about, cooking up a feast.
“Couldnt you stay, Katherine?”
“I cant, Mum… you know that.”
“Oh, my poor, wretched heart.”
Once Mum left, Gran was hard on Victor again.
No going to the quarry with the village lads.
“Theres the stream beyond the gardensplash about there.”
What fun was that? Knee-deep to a sparrow. He longed to join the others, diving from their makeshift tower into the warm, blue-green water, surfacing to the giggles of girls on the bank.
That was happiness!
But Gran didnt understand. If she loved him, shed let him go. Other boys mothers did.
She said children drowned there every year. So what? That didnt stop the others.
No overnight trips to the woods, eithersome tale about a wolverine attacking lads years back. As if that mattered now.
Always the same.
Mum hadnt visited in ages.
When she did, she was… plump. Odd, with the stepfather counting every spoonful she ate.
Gran shook her head.
“When, Katherine?”
“By Michaelmas.”
“God willing… Oh, our heavy sins…”
“Gran,”Victor, nearly nine, tugged her sleeve”is Mum… having a baby?”
“Aye.”
“What about me? Where do I go?”
“Youll stay with me, my lamb.” Gran hugged him, stroked his hair. “Just us two. Nobody wants you but your old Gran.”
“Not even Mum?”
Gran held him tighter, silent.
By Michaelmas, snow had fallen. Gran took Victor to town.
Mum was swollen, weary, but she held him close.
“How longs this visit, then?” the stepfather asked that evening.
“Were staying.”
He near leapt out of his chair.
“What?”
“Victors her son, Im her mother. Its not right, a child without his mum. Ill not leave him to your cruelty.”
The stepfather sank into a chair, purple with rage.
“Mum, dont scare himyoull give him apoplexy like the last one. Whatll I do with the children then?”
“Well manage. Katherine can do without her tyrant. Got my own tea, my own pieswont touch a crumb of yours. But youll pay for Victors clothes, Papa.”
“Youre joking.”
“Am I?” Grans eyes gleamed. “You took Katherinethat makes you Victors father. Act like one.”
Gran took Victor shopping, bought him clothes, let him meet his friends. His eyes pricked afterward.
“Whats wrong?”
“Nowt.”
How could Gran understand?
“Come on,” she said. “Ive a mind for the bakery.”
“Pastry?” His heart leapt. Had he been wrong about her?
“Youll have one. Anddo we have enough?”
“My golden boy,” Grans eyes dampened, “youd spare a thought for me? Ive a fancy for an éclair.”
“Have two, then! Three!”
They ate their treats, wandered to the bus stop. Gypsy women hawked shawls nearby.
“Ooh, lovely! Seeit slips through a ring!”
Gran haggled, scoffed at the price, dragged Victor away. But hed seen her faceshed loved that shawl.
Two days later, Mum gave birth to Annie. A month on, the stepfather dumped the baby with Gran.
“Ive work. Katherines in hospital.”
“Why not take her to your mother?”
He shrugged and left.
“Gran…”
“Tiny thing,” Gran murmured, staring out the window.
“Gran?”
“What?” She wiped her eyes.
“Will Mum… die?”
“Dont say such things!”
“Dad did.”
Gran sprang up, frantic.
“Victor, Ill ask Mrs. Higgins to mind you. I must see Mum tomorrow.”
“Well manage. Just show me how to feed her.”
Gran sank to her knees, wailing.
“Gran! Whats wrong?”
Victor cried. Annie wailed.
“My dears… my loves…”
“I thought you hated me!”
“Victor! How could you?”
“But Mum… Annie…”
“Oh, my sweet lad… I love you all. But you? Youre my heart.”
They endured.
Mum left the stepfather, got a proper flat. Gran grew old, and Mum made her move in.
“Dont fuss,” Mum said. “Youre family.”
Victor came home from the army with giftsdress fabric for Mum, earrings for Annie, and for Gran…
The shawl. The one that slipped through a ring.
“Gran… your dream.”
“I remembered.”
“Warm, too. Passes through, see?”
She wept.
Later, she dandled his children on her knee.
“Gran, dont you love me?” little Andrew asked one day.
“Why ever not?”
“Then why cant I climb trees? The others can.”
“Show me how you ride your bike instead. I never learned.”
“You didnt?”
“Never. Teach me?”
And off they went.
Good day, my dears.
