A sharp crash echoed from the next room. Ustinya knocked over the saucepan in her haste, rushing toward the sound. The boy stood frozen, staring at the shattered vase.
“What have you done?” the woman shrieked, swinging a damp tea towel at her grandson.
“Nan, Ill clean it up!” He scrambled toward the shards.
“Ill clean *you* up!” The towel cracked against his back again. “Sit on the bed and dont move!”
She swept up the mess, stormed back to the kitchen. A puddle spread across the floor, raw potatoes scattered in itsmall blessings, at least they werent cooked. She gathered them, scrubbed them clean, shoved them into the oven. Then she sank into a chair and wept, cursing her daughter in silence:
*Why? Why does everyone else have a proper family? And me? No husband of my own, and now my daughters the same. Just when I thought it couldnt get worse, she goes off to the city, brings home some prison guard for me to feed. Three years writing letters, calling it lovenever even laid eyes on him! And now hell be living under my roof. As if feeding her and the boy wasnt enough, now Ive got another mouth. Well, Ill run this son-in-law off soon enough. Hell flee like a whipped dog.*
“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 rumbled outside. Ustinya peered through the window. Even from here, she could see the mans face was a patchwork of scars. *Whats that fool girl thinking? A prison guard, and ugly as sin to boot.*
The door creaked open. They stepped inside.
Felicity had brought her fiancé home.
“Ah, just the man I wanted,” smirked the local constable. “Need to check his release papers. See what sort of chap your son-in-law is.”
“Go on, then! Theyre just sitting down to eat. And hes no son-in-law of minenever will be.”
***
Ustinya went to fetch the boy. Not that he was hard to findthere he was, tearing about with the lads. But she wasnt ready to go home yet. She lingered with the neighbours, chatting idly. Like it or not, shed have to face the house eventually.
Her gaze settled on the massive logs stacked by the shed. *No splitting those alone.* She grabbed the axe and started hacking splinters from the smallest one. She swung againbut a strong hand caught the handle mid-air.
“Aunt Ustinya, let me try.”
“Go on, then,” she muttered, eyeing her son-in-law skeptically.
He ran a thumb along the blade, frowned. “You got a sharpening stone?”
“Check the shed. My husbands old workshops still in there.”
***
Harrison stepped inside, tools gleaming in the dim light. The grindstone still worked. He sharpened the axe, then hefted the splitting maul beside it.
Outside, he split each log clean down the middle, then reduced them to firewood with quick, sure strokes. By dusk, every piece was stacked neatly in the shed.
Ustinya watched from the doorway, arms crossed. For the first time, something like approval flickered across her face.
“Aunt Ustinya,” Harrison called. “Those beams by the fence”
“Rotten. Useless now.”
“Got the same problem at mine. Maybe we can salvage one good one from the lot.”
They went to see old George. His chainsaw was battered, but the sprocket and chain were sound.
“Take it,” George grinned. “If you get it running, you can cut my timber too.”
***
Then the neighbour piped up:
“Listensplit mine as well, and haul it to the shed.” He shoved two fifty-pound notes into Harrisons hand.
The job was done by sundown. Harrison placed the money on the table.
“Aunt Ustinya, take this.”
She shook her headbut the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. Cash was rare in the village; barter was the usual trade.
***
Next morning, Harrison tinkered with the rotavator. Ploughing season was near. Then the boy came tearing into the yard, eyes wide with panic.
“We were sliding on the icebut Oliver got swept away! He couldnt jump back!”
Ustinya and Felicity bolted outside, sprinting toward the river.
The ice floe carrying the boy drifted further from shore, the current dragging it toward the centre. Worsemassive slabs of broken ice surged downstream, freed from some upstream jam.
Felicity screamed.
But Harrison was already in the water, fighting the icy current. He hauled himself onto the floe just as a jagged slab bore down on themseconds from crushing them both.
“Listen, Ollie,” Harrison gripped the boys shoulder. “Youre tough, yeah?”
“When that big one hits, we jump onto it. No choice. Just hold my handready? Now!”
He hurled the boy onto the advancing ice, then leapt after him. A sharp pain shot through his leghis trouser leg bloomed crimson. Oliver stared at his own scraped palms, trembling.
The current quickened, the floe spinning toward the rapids.
***
On the bank, the villagers watched in horror.
“Theyre done for!” someone cried.
“Maybe not,” the constable muttered. “River bends sharp up aheadand Harrisons no fool.”
He sprinted to his Land Rover.
Harrison wrapped his arms around the shivering boy.
“Next test, lad. That floe wont make the turnitll smash into the bank. Lets move to the far side.”
The shore rushed toward them
**CRACK.**
The impact sent them skidding across the ice, landing hard on the stony bank.
“Alive!” Harrison hoisted the boy up.
“My arm hurts. My leg too.”
“Scratches,” Harrison grinned. “Youll live.”
“But youre bleeding!”
“Walk it off. Weve got a road to find.”
Oliver rubbed his elbow. “Stings.”
“Quit whinging. Youre a man, arent you?”
***
Minutes later, the Land Rover skidded to a halt beside them.
“Still breathing?” the constable called.
“Barely,” Harrison grunted.
“You look like death. Get inhospital, now.”
***
Felicity sobbed into the pillow. Ustinya paced by the window. The phones ringtone made them both jump.
“Constables calling!” Felicity snatched it up. “Whatwhat happened?”
“Olivers here,” the constable said. “Patched up proper. Hang on”
“Mum?” the boys voice crackled through.
“Sweetheart, are you alright?”
“‘Course! Im not a baby, am I?”
“See?” the constable cut in. “Alls well.”
Ustinya snatched the phone. “JimJim, what about Harrison?”
“Getting stitched up. Hold on”
“Harrison? You there?”
“Yeah. Sore, but fine.”
“Aunt Ustinya,” the constable said, “Ill bring your boys home shortly.”
She exhaled, relief washing over her. She jerked her chin at Felicity.
“Enough lying about. Those menll be starvingdoubt theyve eaten all day. Felicity scrambled out of bed, wiping her eyes. Ustinya lit the stove, tossing in a chunk of preserved lard to sizzle. She pulled the half-cooked potatoes from the oven, mashed them with butter and salt, and set a thick slice of rye bread beside each plate. When the Land Rovers headlights finally swept across the snow, she was waiting at the door, arms crossed, steam curling from the bowls behind her. Harrison limped in first, then Oliver, wrapped in a blanket like a little bear. She said nothingjust nudged the boy toward the table and handed Harrison a fork. He met her eyes. She looked away quickly, but not before he saw itthe faintest thaw in the frost.
