**Diary Entry**
A clatter rang out from the next room. Spilling the saucepan, Agnes 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.
“Grandma, I’ll clean it up!” He scrambled for the broken pieces.
“Ill clean *you* up!” The towel came down again. “Sit on the bed and dont move!”
She swept up the mess, returned to the kitchen, and found a puddle on the floor with raw potatoes scattered in it. At least they werent cooked. She gathered them, scrubbed them clean, and shoved them into the oven. Sinking into a chair, she wiped her eyes, cursing her daughter silently.
Why, why does everyone else have a normal family? Not me. No husband of my own, and now my daughters brought home another strangera prison guard, no less! Three years of letters, calling it love, and shes never even laid eyes on him. Now hell be living under my roof. As if feeding her and the boy wasnt enough. Well, Ill make sure this one doesnt stay long. Hell run soon enough.
“Grandma, can I go outside?”
“Go on, then! But bundle up. And stay away from the riverthe ices breaking any day now.”
“Alright, Grandma!”
A car pulled up. Agnes peered through the window. From here, she could see the mans face was scarred. What was that fool girl thinking? A prison guard *and* a fright to look at.
The door opened. In they walked.
Fiona had brought her groom.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” smirked the constable. “Need to check his release papers. And see what sort of chap your new son-in-law is.”
“Go on, then. Theyre having lunch. But hes no son-in-law of minenever will be.”
***
Agnes went to fetch the boy. Not that he was hard to findthere he was, tearing about with the other lads. Still, she wasnt eager to go home and lingered, chatting with the neighbours. Like it or not, she had to return eventually.
She eyed the massive logs by the shed. No way she could split those. Grabbing an axe, she hacked at the smallest one, chips flying. Just as she swung again, a strong hand caught the handle.
“Aunt Agnes, let me try.”
“Go on, then,” she muttered, glaring at the newcomer.
He ran a thumb over the blade and frowned. “You got a sharpening stone?”
“Check the workshop. My husbands tools are still there.”
***
Harrison stepped inside, eyes widening at the array of tools. The grindstone still worked. He sharpened the axe, then spotted a splitting maul nearby.
Outside, he went to work, cleaving logs clean in two, then chopping them into firewood. By evening, every log was stacked neatly in the shed.
Agnes came out, arms crossed. For the first time, something like a smile flickered across her face.
“Aunt Agnes,” Harrison said, pointing, “those beams by the fence”
“Useless. Wont run again.”
“Got one just like it at my place. Maybe we can salvage one from the two.”
They went next door. The old mans chainsaw was wrecked, but the sprocket and chain were sound.
“Take it,” said Albert with a grin. “If you get it running, you can saw up my timber too.”
***
Later, a neighbour called out, “Oi! Split mine as well, and Ill pay you.” He shoved two fifty-pound notes into Harrisons hand.
The job done, Harrison laid the money on the kitchen table. “Aunt Agnes, take this.”
She shook her head, but the pleased glint in her eye was unmistakable. Cash was rare in the villagefavours were the usual currency.
***
The next day, Harrison tinkered with the rotavator. Planting season was coming. Then a boy came sprinting into the yard, wild-eyed.
“We were sliding on the ice, andyour Jeremy got carried off! He cant jump back!”
Agnes and Fiona bolted for the river.
A sheet of ice, with the boy stranded atop it, drifted further from the bank. Worse yet, massive floes bore down from upstreama jam mustve broken loose.
Fiona screamed.
But Harrison was already in the water, swimming hard. He hauled himself onto the floe just as a crushing slab loomed.
“Listen, Jere,” he said, gripping the boys shoulder. “Youre tough, yeah? When that big one hits, we jump. One shot. Ready? *Now!*”
He hurled the boy onto the incoming ice and leapt after, his leg scraping the jagged edge. Blood seeped through his trousers. Jeremy stared at his own scraped palms, trembling.
The current quickened, sweeping them toward the bend.
***
Onshore, the crowd watched in horror.
“Theyre done for,” someone muttered.
“Maybe not,” the constable mused. “River turns sharp ahead. Harrisons no fool.”
Then he sprinted for his Land Rover.
Harrison held the shivering boy close. “Next test, lad. This floes going to smash into that bank. Hard. Move to the far side*now!*”
The impact flung them clear onto the stony shore.
“Alive!” Harrison groaned, hauling Jeremy up.
“My arm hurts. And my leg.”
“Walk it off,” Harrison grinned. “Youll live.”
“But its *bleeding*.”
“Quit whingeing. Youre a man, arent you?”
***
Minutes later, they reached the road. The Land Rover skidded to a halt.
“Still breathing?” Harrison nodded.
“You look rough. Get inhospital, now.”
***
Fiona sobbed into the bedspread. Agnes paced by the window. The phones ringtone made them both jump. Fiona grabbed it. *Constable* flashed on the screen.
“Whatwhat happened?” she cried.
“Jeremys here, patched up. Hold on”
“Mum?”
“Sweetheart, are you alright?”
“Im fine! Im tough, arent I?”
The constables voice cut in. “See? Alls well.”
Agnes snatched the phone. “Georgewhat about Harrison?”
“Getting stitched up. Waithes here. Harrison?”
“Yeah, Im fine.”
“Aunt Agnes, theyre both alright,” George said. “Bringing them home soon.”
Agnes sagged with relief, then jabbed a finger at Fiona. “Stop crying. Theyll be starvingdoubt theyve eaten all day.”
