Two wives
A barren old womanshe isnt even a proper old woman any more, just halfawoman, my motherinlaw declares, and Emily sighs, forcing a bitter smile.
Dont listen to her, snaps Grace, the halfdeaf neighbour, leaning toward her loudly, because God knows what Hes doing. Youre still too young to think about children, He sees everything ahead of you.
But, Mrs. Grace what does He see? Weve been together five years. I want a baby so badly, Emily sobs, tears tracking down her cheeks.
She rarely says this out loud; most of the time she keeps the ache locked inside, quietly nursing the pain. Today she has walked ten kilometres back to her hometown to visit her mothers grave, and she sits with her old halfdeaf neighbour for a chat.
Its a sad truth but we dont find children, they find us. Hang on, girl, Grace replies.
The village dogs howl, sparrows chatter. The familiar sounds of the hamlet are fading. The little village of Hemsley, in Yorkshire, has all but withered, its crooked cottages leaning toward the river as though making a final bow.
Emily heads home to her husband in the larger village of Ilminster. She must leave Hemsley at dawn. She has always feared the night woods and fieldsa childish dread she never outgrew.
Emily was born here. Six years ago she became an orphan; her father died after the war and her mother passed away when she was still a child. She takes a job as a milkmaid on the local cooperative farm.
When she meets the man she will marry, it is June. It is Emilys seventeenth summer and her first season working the farm. The walk is long, but she runs happily, even though her hands ache from the hard milking work.
One morning a slanting rain catches her on the lane. The sky darkens, clouds roll in, and a low rumble shakes the air. Everything seems tilted, bent to one side.
Emily ducks under a wooden overhang at the edge of the village near the woods. She sits on the plank, pulling her black hair into a loose braid, squeezing rainwater from it. Through the angled sheets of rain she spots a darkhaired lad in a checked shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and trousers cuffed just above the knee. He darts under the shelter, sees her and grins:
What a treat! Im Nicholas, and who might you be?
Emilys heart thunders; the world around her is a wash of grey. She remains silent, shifting to the edge of the plank.
Did the thunder strike your ears, or have you always been mute? he jokes.
Not mute. My name is Emily.
Cold? Need a warm?
He teases her a little more, keeping his distance, The rains hammered everything flat. Im with the Coop.
He keeps joking for a while, then his teasing turns to unwanted attention. Emilys blouse clings to her bodyperhaps that fuels his interest, or maybe he just enjoys a bit of flirtation. She bolts out of the rain, sprinting for her life, glancing back every few steps.
The forest, heavy with looming clouds, feels terrifying.
Later Nicholas Whitaker shows up as a temporary farmhand, filling in for a sick worker. Emily looks at him with a flash of resentment, but he begins courting her seriously. Their first encounter clearly left a mark.
Emily dives into marriage with joy, though she cant picture what awaits her in her husbands household and a new village. Her motherinlaw, Mrs. Green, proves stern and frail. She gladly offloads some chores onto her daughterinlaw but watches every task with a hawks eye.
Even when life is hard, Emily doesnt lose hope. She is diligent, sturdyonly the scoldings from Mrs. Green sting. After all, she arrived as a penniless orphan, no dowry, a true stranger.
After a while, Mrs. Green softens as she sees Emilys knack for the farm. The harsh remarks fade; Emily no longer bears them. A year passes, then another, yet no pregnancy comes.
Youre a spoiled thing. A barren old womanshe isnt even a proper old woman, just halfawoman. How will this house survive without grandchildren?
Emily weeps into Nicholass shoulder; he rebukes her mother, who only grows angrier. Mrs. Green sighs, watches Emily set a bowl before her, and says nothing.
Emily, however, does not lose hope. She visits the village nurse herself, sneaks to the neighbouring parish priest for herbal brews, and asks the midwife for charms against childlessness.
Life moves on. The Whitaker household isnt wealthy, but it isnt destitute either, especially in these hard postwar years. Food is always scarce.
One early morning Nicholas brings half a sack of damp grain.
Oh, Colin, dont dont let them see this! his mother shrieks.
Everyone pulls, Im not alone. Calm down, Mum, he replies.
Emily worries, urging Nicholas not to get involved in shady dealings. Still, he drags home bits of waste from the farm.
Sleep eludes Emily; she sits in the dark, legs tucked under her, waiting for her husband.
One day she decides to meet him. She feels around, finds her skirt, blouse, and a thick woolen coat, grabs her sturdy rubber boots, slips on a canvas raincoat, and steps onto the porch. A November gale slams the open doors, cold drops sting her face.
Where could he be in such weather? Her feet carry her to the edge of the village. The windows are dark, even the dogs have hidden. Her loyal puppy Fidoshe loves him dearlytrails behind. Emily walks, eyes scanning the horizon, until she reaches an old barn on the villages fringe.
Beyond the barn lies only open field. The night field and woods have always terrified her. She pauses, decides to wait a while, then turn back.
Rain drums on the cold ground, sometimes gusty, sometimes steady. Through the patter she hears a light female laugh emanating from the barn.
She leans in, recognises Nicholass voice, feels a surge of relief, steps toward the barn, then chillshe isnt alone.
The rain alternates between muffling and amplifying voices. She hears a womans voiceKatie, a girl from the neighbouring village who works with her on the farm.
At first, Katie was lively, funny, always humming about leaving the village for the city, Ill find a rich, bald gentleman and Ill be out of this farm! shed shout at the workers gatherings.
Lately, however, Katies cheer has dulled. She no longer amuses the girls; whispers on the farm claim shes sulking over a lovers jealousy.
Emily had thought Katie was citybound. She never imagined the jealous man would be Nicholas. The rain swells, and a stunned Emily stands frozen by the barn. Suddenly, Katie bursts out laughing, dashes home across the slippery path, her wartimestyle coat catching on a knot of straw, sending her sprawling. She scrambles up, her skirts torn, and hurries back inside.
She rushes to the washhouse, starts scrubbing herself clean, muttering to Fido, Well wash this grime away, dear.
Emily clutches onto the love she thought she had with Nicholas, but the rains roar makes her doubt everything. When Nicholas finally appears in the washroom, she says nothing, deciding to wait until tomorrow.
At dawn, two police officers and the cooperatives chairman arrive. Mrs. Green wails, grabbing the chairmans lapel, while her husband watches the strangers with narrowed eyes. Emily hustles, helps her husband, lifts her grieving motherinlaw from the floor.
Fourteen villagers are taken to the cooperative office. A truck arrives at noon, loads the arrested, and drives them to the town for trial.
Emily looks upKatie stands under a birch tree, watching.
The arrests shake the village for weeks. People whisper behind locked doors, fearful to speak.
Mrs. Green falls into a deep sorrow, her husbands health declines. Emily barely sleeps.
She never resolves anything with Nicholas; she remains neither fully wife nor dismissed. Yet now pity and fear for her husband outweigh anger and jealousy. She cannot flee; a wife of a detained man would not be welcomed elsewhere. Divorce is never spoken of.
A few days later, Emily, weary from the farm, carries a jug of milk home when she opens her door to find Katie seated at the table, hands folded beneath a swollen belly. Beside her sit her own parentsinlaw, heads bowed.
Hello, Katie greets.
And you, dont get ill, Emily replies.
Emily, Mrs. Green says warmly, Katie used to visit the city, see our relativesOlga, Nina, their father, and Vasya, Olgas husband.
Emily sets the milk bucket on the stove, washes her hands, and listens.
Emily, the court gave ten years to our Tom, her mother says, handing a handkerchief to Emily, pressing it to her eyes, weeping.
Emily collapses onto the bench.
Ten years? she gasps.
Yes, Katie answers, they called them state criminals, gave everyone a decade. They tried them all together.
Lord! Emily exhales, unable to believe.
Mrs. Green continues sobbing, Maybe theyll think again, maybe theyll let him go theyll frighten us then release him, Emily hopes.
Who will release them now? Youre foolish, Emily! Its the next step. The court tried them as a batch, Katie insists.
They all listen to the details of the trial. A brief silence follows, broken only by the grandfather sipping tea.
Listen up! Katie slaps the table, startling everyone, If the owners stay silent, Ill speak: Colin planned to marry me. He wanted to divorce you, but never got the chance. So heres the truth, lovemy baby will be his. I wont raise him alone. My father wont let me return to the village with a child; hes already heard the gossip. I thought wed marry Colin, hed forgive us. But look what happened Thats why Im here, to look after your grandchild. I told Colin in the city, hes fine. He even said hed let you both go.
Katie spits the words out quickly, eyes fixed on Emily, waiting for a reactionsurprise, protest, tears. Emily sits, hands folded on her wartimefabric skirt, staring at the floor.
Mrs. Green finally snaps.
Emily, this is our house, we decide. There will be a grandchild. And Colin what about him? Let Katie stay; thats our decision. Let the sons child grow here. You decide, she says, collapsing into her apron, crying.
I dont mind, Emily answers, standing, beginning to strain the milk.
Katie and the grandfather leave with their things. Mrs. Green waits for Katie.
Where shall we put her to sleep? In the outbuilding? The baby will need a corner. She sighs, Oh, misery.
Emily brings a bundle of straw from the yard, spreads it on the floor by the stove, covers it with a homemade quiltnow its her makeshift bed, almost like Fidos kennel.
Days grow shorter and colder. Mrs. Green is ill all winter. Katie, in her last days, becomes more demanding, walking on crutches. The farms burden falls heavily on Emily; theres no escaping it.
Katie, oddly, befriends her motherinlaw, sometimes even defending her when shes too harsh.
Lie down, dear, or theyll drive you mad, Katie says gently.
Emily spends her days milking from dawn till dusk, glancing through a small window at the white woods across the river, wondering about her fate. She cannot return to her native village; the wind whistles through the thatch, and the tenkilometre trek to work in the bitter cold is impossible.
She often thinks of her own mother. What would she say now, seeing her daughters disgrace? Two wives in one mans housewhos the queen? Her mother was a proud, selfassured woman, never a victim.
Winter days pass, marked by fatigue and monotony. A baby born in January brings a flicker of joy.
One freezing night, Katies father brings home a tiny bundle from the maternity warda boy they name Edward. Emily, with a heavy heart, tries not to stare at the child, though she prays and seeks cures, feeling the wound of not being the one who gave the child to the house.
Most of the time, Edward is with Katie. Emily notices the boy cares less for Katies worries than for his own future. She sighs.
All for Colin, right, Emily? her mother keeps reminding her.
Yes, he looks like Emily agrees.
Mostly, Katie raises the child, but Emily sees that the boys presence binds her more to the house than she ever wanted. She had once dreamed of training as a laboratory technician in the district centre; now Colins tenyear sentence haunts her.
Changes come to the farm. Four twobed houses are built in the village, families moving in. New temporary milkmaids arrivetalkative, from elsewhere, but diligent. They bring weekends off. Emily befriends one, Vera, a newcomer.
On a day off, Vera asks, Whats this all about? Emily tells her the storyhow the house is never really happy. Vera is shocked; shes never heard of a wife and a lover sharing a roof.
Leave, Vera advises.
What? Theres nowhere else to go. The farm needs me, Emily retorts.
Edward, now toddling, reaches for her more than his mother, grabbing her curls, planting a kiss on her cheek, laughing as the sun sets. He and the puppy Fido engage in playful scuffles.
On May1st, Emily kneads dough for pies, scooping flour into a castiron pot, then returning to the cottage to mix the batter. Katie prepares for a village fete, slipping on white beads and darting out. Mrs. Green sits beside Emily, cradling Edward.
Emily, I have to tell you something. It feels like youre the childs mother, not Katie, Emily feels a flutter as her motherinlaws words stir something. Katie is scared to admit itshe wants to go to the city, study, work. Edwards a burden for us, and were old enough to be his nannies!
What? Emilys eyes widen.
She hopes youll look after him. Shes not a mother, just a name. Yesterday she tried to wash him, and Mrs. Greens voice trails off.
Emily keeps kneading, the dough turning to a rhythm, her mind replaying the words.
What do we do, Emily? Vera asks, sympathy on her face.
Emily shrugs. Maybe this is for the best. You cant have children, but a child will be yours. And Colin will return, choose whoever raises his child. Perhaps God has a plan, Emily says, looking fondly at Edward on her lap, A wife isnt something you can just drop.
Mrs. Green, halfsobbing, continues, While youre at the farm, Ill fidget, and then well raise him. Hell be our grandchild. Katie isnt a mother, just a name. I barely managed to pull a cloth from the wash.
Emily heads out for the evening milking. The celebration continues, but milking must go on. She feels lost, unable to decide what to do. Everything feels foreign; even baking pies no longer brings pleasure.
The pies turn out fine. Emily places them on the iron, covers them with a cloth. Katie returns, flushed, cheerful again.
Oh, life is good, Emily! You should have come to the party, we sang, we danced!
Here are the pies, Emily lifts the cloth.
Im starving, Katie grabs a slice, biting as she pulls off her dress.
Emily manages the farmyard, sometimes pausing, staring into a point, melancholy filling her thoughts. Fido circles, oblivious to his mistresss turmoil.
Katie falls asleep beside Edward, while Mrs. Green and her husband quiet down in their cupboard. Emily rocks the boy, places him next to his mother, and watches Katie hug him.
Outside, darkness settles. A light drizzle patters on the roof. Emily thinks calmly about it.
Rain cannot stop her, nor can the dark forest she dreaded as a child.
No, Mum, I wont endure this any longer. Theres no love, no hope, she whispers in her mind.
No one notices Emily slipping a canvas bag into the barn, pulling on rubber boots, tugging on a coat despite the summer heat, pausing in the kitchen.
She doesnt need more pies; shell let them remember her.
She creaks quietly across the floorboards, grabs the heavy bag filled with her belongings, pats sleepy Fido, and steps out the gate.
The damp road feels pleasant. The field no longer scares her. She stops at the forests edge, breathes deeply, and strides forward, determined. She needs to reach the station.
She stepped onto the platform, watched the locomotive roar into view, and with a steady breath boarded the train bound for Manchester, leaving the village and its tangled memories behind.
