They say the old stories of the Larkin family still echo through the fields of Yorkshire, as if the wind itself were recalling them. My grandmother, Agnes, would lean over the kitchen hearth and, with a voice as sharp as a winter wind, warn young Lucy: If you bring a lad into the house, youll be tossed out the very door. Weve enough shame to carry already. Those words seemed more than a scolding; they were a prophecy my mother never expected.
Since childhood Lucy had heard whispers that her mother, Eleanor, had been a wanderer. We lived five years with Tom, never had a child, and thenoh, you should have seen itshe went off to the seaside resort and brought us back a little one, Agnes would blurt out, without a hint of delicacy. No amount of explanationabout how Eleanor had travelled three years before Lucy was born, accompanied by her own sister, Noracould silence the old womans insistence that Lucy was a troublemaker.
Father Arthur looked at his wife as if she were a wolf ready to pounce, but what else could he do when every day the village gossip reminded him that the squatter was raising the child? So they lived together, the house large, Arthur, when he married, never left his mothers side; the younger son was expected to care for his parents. The mother despised her daughterinlaw, and whenever the son stumbled, she would order her away: I cannot stand the way she walks, the way she sitsshe is no match for you. Yet the son would cling to his love and refuse to let go.
It was the granddaughter, Lily, who bore the true marks of the family: clever, beautiful, sweetheartedwhile the other child, a surly, solitary girl named Mabel, was as prickly as a thistle, spitting venom like a wolfs bite. When Lily ran home, twirling in a daisy chain and calling Agnes Gran, the old woman would glare, seeing only foreign blood in her.
Lovely, here are some cucumbers, Agnes would say.
I dont want them; theyre bitter, Lily replied.
Theyre bitter, you say? Agnes would agree, just like the lazy, cursed girl you are, Lucy. Mary, Mary, feed the hungry child, give her a bit of cream and bread.
Hard biscuits, the girl would protest.
There you gohard as stones, the grandmother would mutter, eyes never leaving her cherished granddaughter, while shaking her head at the other girls stubbornness.
The house will be yours, dear Lily, my only grandchild, Agnes promised, or shall I leave you a roofless soul? Let your parents sort it, or tend to yourself, for everything is ready. Thus Lucys life unfolded.
When Lucy decided to go to the cityLondon, they saidher grandmother gave her a final, stern blessing. Lucy learned quickly, with curiosity and gusto. The city dazzled her: women in flowing dresses, men in sharp frock coats, the bustling streets full of promise. She wanted to show her mother the worlds splendor, but how could she bring her mother to the metropolis? The old woman, with the grip of a serpent, would not allow it; Lucy could only visit occasionally.
She befriended the matron of her hostel, Anne Andrews, whose grownup son lived up north and had two grandchildren. Anne, though, kept her own daughterinlaw at home. Lucy and Anne grew close, and Anne would tell her, Theyll call your mother to the parish meeting, as if after a year of schooling you have no place to go, but youll pull her into the city. And so they did. Arthur grumbled, Agnes sneered that Lucy was flirting with boys instead of studying, yet the teachers praised Lucy, and even her mother, weary of criticism, felt a spark of pride.
Lucy introduced Anne to her mother, and the women immediately warmed to each other.
Dont be shy, Mrs. Andrews, Mary
All night they sat over tea, and Marya name the locals used for Lucys motherconfided, Ah, Anne, Ive spent my life as a servant. Apart from Lucy Ive had no children, and my own parents are long gone. Ive always been a good pupil, longing for the citys library, but fate never allowed it.
She thanked Lucy for showing her the city, for it had opened her eyes beyond the village.
Anne asked, What do you do, Mary?
Im a clerk in the electricity office; thats my work these past few years.
Youre educated then? Forgive my curiosity.
Of course, Mary laughed, I went to school in the district, always dreamed of the city, oh Anne
Anne simply said, Come, move here.
Mary sighed, Anne, if only I could teach Lucy
Their conversation drifted into soft murmurs.
Back home, Marys motherinlaw scolded her, her husband glared like a wolf, and often shed receive a sharp slap to the eye or nose for orders sake. She rushed off to work, covering bruises as if they were just another mark of the day. She seemed lost in thoughts that were not her own.
The next month she returned to the village for another meeting with Lucy. The girl isnt studying; shes run off with a lad, just like that Mick wholl bring a boy into the house, the villagers muttered. Micks found someone else, and I keep trying to keep her quiet, but shell run off and bring disgrace. That day Mick struck Mary hardso hard that even the old womans heart leapt in fear, not for Mary but for Mick. She ran to the constable, bearing a piece of pork and a slab of bacon as a strange offering.
Mary, seeing her husband circling her like a hound, realized the house was no longer hers, though she had tended it for a quarter of a century. If something happened to Mick, it would be her that suffered. She gathered a few belongings, filed a complaint, and left work without notice. The shock was such that the officials let her go.
Lucy leapt as if to touch the sky.
Mother, is that you?
Im weak, child, my strength has left me, and my body bears only bruises.
Mother,
Its alright, dear, Anne will help.
Will you ever come back?
No, Mary whispered, clenching her lips, I will not, for your sake, so you may live better.
She found work at a textile mill, again as a clerk, and was given a room in a dormitory. She began to bloom anew. She and Lucy would stroll together in the evenings. Someone from the village saw them and informed Mick.
He came, darkeyed and stormlike, and said, Molly, Im coming for you.
I wont go with you, she replied, Ive had enough.
Mick ground his teeth, hissed, but Mary no longer feared; she was a different woman now.
Dont tempt me, Molly; if you stray, Ill forgive you, he snarled.
Leave, she told him, or Ill call the police.
Police? On my own husband?
Mick, theyve led us astray for months.
Did you not receive a letter? he asked, bewildered.
No, she said, stunned.
So, Mick, forgive me then.
Love you? he whispered, I love you.
Youre a wolf that loved a sheep, and now youre lost in your own love.
She spat, Its your fault, and he snarled, Go away
He begged, Will you return?
No.
Youll regret this.
Go, she said, Ill leave, but dont think youll see me again. I wont welcome you back, Marjorie.
He wept, Come back, Mum? The old mother could no longer bear the torment, Enough of this nonsense.
No, she shook her head, I wont return.
How could you? Mick shouted, You drank my blood, the girl grew up fatherless, why did you let it happen?
Forgive me, Marjorie, things will be different now, return to us
No, Mick, go away. Even in old age Ill live as a proper woman.
Mick stormed back home like a gathering cloud, cursed his mother, bought a bottle of gin, and drank.
Mother, ma
What is it, Mick?
Did a letter with a seal ever reach me?
His eyes darted, his lips trembled, his hands seemed lost.
Its
A week of drinking later he brought home Katarina Yates, a new wife, while Mary tried to hide it. The fresh daughterinlaw set about ordering the household, far from the meek Molly of old. The old woman feared showing her nose in the kitchen.
Then came Lily, the pretty granddaughter, with all the luck a girl could wish for. A scoundrel appeared, deceiving the honest girl; had he been caught, he would have been crushed, dragged away for his sins. Molly, now a wretched soul, seemed the cause of every misfortune, as if she had invited Micks downfall.
Rumours spread that Molly lived in the city, a lady of some standing, and had taken a new partner. She seemed married, but Lilys fate was bleak. She left a boy named Ned behind and went to the city, hoping to find happiness, perhaps.
The village chatter called Molly a snake, a wicked thing who had turned everything upside down. Katarina, the new wife, ruled the house, and Mick bowed to her will. The blame fell on Molly, who lived far away, perhaps in a damp cottage, her only wish to warm the old woman in the bath and show respect, but Katarina only tore at her like a wild dog, leaving bruises.
Even Lucy, the granddaughter, was shunned; she wasnt even invited to her own wedding. The families had become city folk, far removed from the simple life they once knew. Some even traded their true mothers for fleeting attractions, though no matter how harsh Molly turned out to be, she still held a measure of respect. Nora, another relative, was praised, though she had little time for anyone.
Perhaps one day someone will travel to London, find Mary, and pass a message: that Molly, despite her flaws, is a kind soul who will mourn the old womans tears as they roll down her wrinkled cheek, never knowing why she suffers. She spent her life treating people kindly, a gentle heart in a harsh world.
