A sharp clatter came from the next room. Spilling the pot, Millie rushed over. The boy stood frozen, staring at the shattered vase.
“What have you done?” the woman shouted, swatting her grandson with a damp tea towel.
“Nan, Ill clean it up!” he yelped, scrambling for the broken pieces.
“Oh, Ill clean *you* up!” She snapped the towel against his back again. “Sit on the bed and dont move!”
She tidied up, then trudged back to the kitchen. A puddle spread across the floor, raw potatoes scattered in itat least they werent cooked yet. She scooped them up, rinsed them off, and shoved them into the oven. Sinking into a chair, she wiped her eyes, silently cursing her daughter.
Why? Why does everyone else have normal families? Not me. No husband of my own, and now my daughters gone and done the same. And just when I thought things couldnt get worse, shes dashed off to the train station in Manchester, bringing home some prison guard shes never even met. Three years of letters, she says. *Love*, she calls it. Now hell be living under my roof. As if feeding her and the boy wasnt enoughnow theres him. Well, Ill make sure this son-in-law doesnt last long. Hell be gone before he knows it.
“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. Millie squinted through the window. Even from here, she could see the mans face was a patchwork of scars. What was that daft girl thinking? A prison guard *and* a fright to look at?
The door creaked open. In they came.
Faye had brought her fiancé home.
“Perfect timing,” chuckled the local bobby. “Ill just check his release papers. And see what sort of man your daughters picked.”
“Off you gotheyre having lunch. Not that hes *my* son-in-law. Never will be.”
Millie went to fetch her grandson. Not that he was hard to findthere he was, tearing about with the other lads. Still, she wasnt in a hurry to go back. She lingered, chatting with the neighbours. Like it or not, home called.
Her gaze fell on the massive logs by the shed. No way she could split those. Grabbing an axe, she started hacking at the smallest one, chipping off slivers. She swung againbut a strong hand caught the axe mid-air.
“Auntie Millie, let me have a go.”
“Be my guest,” she muttered, eyeing her son-in-law sourly.
He ran a thumb along the blade and frowned. “Got a whetstone?”
“Try the shed. My husbands old workshops in there.”
Harrison stepped inside, and his eyes widened. The place was packed with tools. He flicked on the grinderstill worked! Soon the axe was razor-sharp. He grabbed the splitting maul too.
Outside, he made quick work of the logs, cleaving them in two before chopping them into neat firewood. By evening, every last log was stacked in the shed.
Millie watched, arms crossedthen a flicker of a smile escaped.
“Auntie Millie,” Harrison called, pointing. “Those beams by the fencerotten?”
“Useless now.”
“Come see minesame problem. Maybe we can salvage one good one from the lot.”
They headed next door. The old mans chainsaw was battered, but the sprocket and chain were sound.
“Take it all!” grinned Albert. “If you get it running, you can saw up my timber too.”
The neighbour piped up: “Listensplit mine as well, and haul it to my shed.” He shoved two fifty-pound notes into Harrisons hand.
Job done, Harrison laid the money on the table back home. “Auntie Millie, this is for you.”
She shook her head, but a pleased grin crept across her face. Cash was rare in the villagefavours usually did the talking.
***
Next day, Harrison tinkered with the rotavator. Planting season was coming. Then a boy sprinted into the yard, wild-eyed.
“We were sliding on the iceOliver got swept away! He cant jump off!”
Millie and Faye bolted outside, sprinting toward the river.
A ice floe carried the boy further from the bank, the current dragging it toward midstream. Worsemassive slabs of ice bore down from upstream, freed by a broken jam.
Faye screamed.
But Harrison was already plunging into the frigid water. He reached the floe, hauling himself up just as a crushing slab loomed.
“Listen, Ollie,” Harrison crouched beside the boy. “Youre brave, yeah? When that big one hits, we jump onto it. One shotgot it? Take my hand. Ready? *Now!*”
He hurled the boy onto the incoming ice, leaping afterbut his leg slammed against the edge. Blood soaked his trouser leg. Oliver stared at his scraped palms, trembling.
The current seized them, hurtling the floe downstream.
***
On the bank, the crowd watched in horror.
“Theyre done for!” someone cried.
“Maybe not,” the bobby mused. “River bends sharp aheadand Harrisons no fool.”
He sprinted to his Land Rover, parked nearby.
Harrison wrapped his arms around the shivering boy. “Next test, mate. Were hitting that bank hard. Move to the other side*now!*”
The impact sent them skidding across the floe, sprawling onto the pebbled shore.
“Alive!” Harrison hoisted the boy up.
“My arm hurts. And my leg.”
“Scratches,” Harrison grinned. “Youll live.”
“But its *bleeding*!”
“Tough it out. Weve a walk ahead.”
Oliver rubbed his elbow. “Stings.”
“Quit whinging. Youre a bloke, aint you?”
***
Minutes later, they reached the roadjust as the Land Rover skidded to a halt. The bobby jumped out.
“Still breathing?” Harrison nodded.
“Christ, you look rough. Get inhospital, now.”
***
Faye sobbed into the bedspread. Millie paced by the window. A phone ringtone made them both jump. Faye snatched it up*POLICE* flashed on the screen.
“Whats happened?!” she screamed.
“Ollies here, patched up proper. Hold on”
“Mum?” came the boys voice.
“Sweetheart, are you alright?!”
“‘Course! Im not a baby!”
“See, Faye? Alls well,” the bobby cut in.
Millie snatched the phone. “Tomwhat about Harrison?”
“Getting stitched up. Hang onhes out.”
“You alright?” Faye pressed the phone to her ear.
“Right as rain.”
“Harrisons fine!” the bobby called. “Bringing both your lads home.”
Millie exhaled, jerking her chin at Faye. “Stop blubbing. Theyll be starvingdoubt theyve eaten all day. She wiped her hands on her apron and marched to the kitchen, pulling the cold potatoes from the oven. A proper meal was neededhot, thick stew this time, with extra meat. The logs Harrison split would keep the fire going all night. As she stirred the pot, Millie glanced at the door, waiting for the click of the latch, for the sound of heavy boots on the mat, for the man who saved her grandson to walk back in, not as an intruder, but as family.
