The cottage smelled of damp and mould. The floor creaked with every step, and in the corner you could hear something scurrying probably mice. I gently laid the twins on the old mattress, covered them with my coat and crouched down beside them.
My heart was hammering like a runaway train. I didnt know what scared me more the cold sneaking in through the cracks in the timber walls, or the silence from John, who seemed like a different man altogether.
Do you realise how tiny they are? I whispered. They need formula, medicine Im nursing, but will it be enough for two?
He snapped around.
Think I dont know? Think Im a fool? His voice trembled with tension. But the towns falling apart. I cant support two at once not mentally, not financially.
What then? My eyes flashed. Are we going to hide here like fugitives?
John paced the room, then slammed his fist on the table.
Im not running away! Im trying to figure out how we survive!
The babies started crying at the same time. I scooped them up, rocked them gently, murmuring:
Shh, my darlings, shh Mums here.
Tears slipped down my cheeks and fell onto their little faces.
Were a family, I whispered, not looking at him. You wanted a child. Now we have two. Its a gift, not a curse.
John stood by the window, staring out at the dark woods. His shoulders shivered, but he didnt turn. He just muttered:
One would have been enough to make me happy. Two that changes everything.
I snapped.
Changes everything? Youre a father, not an accountant going into the red!
He whirled around, anger and desperation blazing in his eyes.
You dont get it! Ive got not a penny! Zero! No cash, my cards are useless out here. I burned the last few litres of petrol just to get us this far.
I felt the floor give way beneath me.
So were trapped? No food, no medicine, no warmth?
He slumped onto the rickety chair, burying his face in his hands. For the first time he looked broken rather than angry.
The silence was broken only by the soft whimper of the babies. I wrapped them tighter and sat down beside him.
Listen, I said gently. Im not blaming you. But we have to act. The kids cant wait.
He lifted his head. Fear flickered in his eyes.
Im scared. Scared I wont manage. Scared I wont feed them. Scared well all die out here.
I squeezed his hand hard.
Well get through this. Together. But only if you stop running from the truth.
He nodded, then stood up as if a decision finally clicked.
All right. Tomorrow morning Ill head to the village. Ill look for work, ask for food whatever I can get.
The night stretched on forever. The twins cried every hour, I fed and rocked them, humming songs I barely remembered. John sat by the window, the lamp unlit, staring into the black woods as if the answer lay hidden there.
At dawn I slipped on my coat.
Ill be back. I promise.
The walk to the village took a good hour. The first house I reached was a modest cottage with a small garden out front. I knocked. An elderly lady in a headscarf opened the door. I whispered, nerves getting the better of me:
Im sorry my wifes out in the woods with two newborns. Weve got nothing. Im ready to work for food.
She studied me for a long moment, as if reading my soul. Finally she said softly:
Theres plenty of work if youre willing chopping wood, tending the garden, looking after the animals. But first take this. She handed me a basket filled with bread, milk and eggs. The kids will need this most.
I nearly broke down. I thanked her profusely and raced back, clutching the basket like a treasure.
When I stepped into the cottage, Ethel was holding the twins, looking ragged and exhausted. The moment she saw the food she let out a cry and threw her arms around me.
You did it?!
I set the basket on the table and wrapped her in a hug.
I dont know how long itll last, but weve got a chance now. Ive learned something I cant be scared any more. Ive got you lot. Thats enough.
She pressed close to me, hope flickering in her eyes.
The babies fell asleep, full and peaceful. And for the first time in days, a sense of a way forward settled in both our hearts a long, hard road, but a road wed walk together.
Well manage, she whispered.
Yes. Together, I replied.
And in my voice there was no more rage or despair, just a steady confidence.
