Life, eh?
Tommy, sniffling from the cold, was hauling a dry pine log on his big wooden sled. It had fallen right at the edge of the villagetechnically not for taking, but old man Arthur, the local gamekeeper, had winked and said, *”Wait till dark, then grab it.”*
So there he was, straining under the weight, when
“Tommy! Tommy!”
Of course. That sharp-eyed little whirlwind, Emily, his classmate.
“What dyou want?”
“Let me help.”
Where did girls get their strength? No idea. But it *was* easier with two. So they both leaned into the sled, dragging it home.
“Whos watching the little ones?” asked Emily.
“Gran, who else? Mums at work.”
“Oh! I popped round with your homework, but your door was locked. Billy said youd gone toward the woodstold em to stay put.”
“Had to lock it…”
“She still running off?”
“Yep. Keeps saying shes going *home*back to Mum.”
“Oh, bless her. Hurts herself *and* you lot.”
“Yeah.”
They got the log to Tommys cottage.
“Cheers, Em.”
“Dont mention it. Hand me the sawlets chop this quick.”
“I can manage.”
“Right, *manage*either youll hack at it with a handsaw, or well do it proper.”
So they sawed together, and soon neat chunks of wood littered the ground.
In the window, six-year-old Billy and two-year-old Lily pressed their noses to the glass.
Tommy grabbed the axe, drove it clean into a chunkcrack! One good whack, then another, till it split clean. Emily gathered kindling while he worked.
Once theyd stacked the firewood inside, Tommy lit the stove. Golden flickers danced on the ceiling. Warmth crept in.
“Let me make soup,” Emily offered. “Aunt Louisell be knackered after work.”
“Nah, Granll do it,” Tommy mumbled, flushing.
“Oh, *please*,” Billy begged. “Remember last time Gran cooked? Threw in cabbage, peas, *and* Mums dill seedssaid its for when Lily gets poorly. Was *rank*.”
“Ill cook. Billy, help.”
“And whore *you*?” A voice creaked from the stoveGran, wrapped in shawls, boots still on.
“Gran, get comfyits warm now.”
“Bitter out, Danny.”
“*Tommy*, Gran. Your grandson.”
“Oh? Wheres Danny?”
“Gone… back soon.”
Emily whispered, “She means your uncle?”
“Yeah. Since he left… shes been worse.”
“Why didnt he take her? His own mum!”
Tommy shrugged. He hated this talk.
DannyToms dad, Louises husbandhad run off to his fancy woman last winter. Clever about it, too. Slaughtered the pigs, took the meat, even the milk cow *and* her calf. Mum begged, *”At least leave the calfwell raise it for milk.”*
Hed laughed. *”What kinda groom shows up empty-handed?”*
Tommy hated him from that moment. Hated how hed halved the grain stores, scooped up potatoes, even counted out *cutlery*. And Mum just stood there, tallying spoons…
Louise came home to the kids huddled by the oil lampTommy reading fairy tales to Billy, Gran dozing by the stove, Lily asleep, thumb in mouth.
“Mum,” Billy whispered, “its *cosy*. Tom got wood, him and Em chopped it, and she made soup*proper* good. Lilys asleep, Gran wandered off twice saying shes going *home*, but we caught her.”
Louise smiled faintly, ruffling Billys messy hair. “Tommy… you do too much.”
“Salright, Mum. Eatsoups decent.”
After supper, Louise mended clothes. A knock came.
“Tom, see who it is.”
The door flew openVal, their round-cheeked neighbour, bundled in scarves.
“Blimey, freezing! Gonna drop below zero tonight, mark my words. Lou, brought you cracklings and a bit of lardhere.”
“Val, you shouldnt”
“Rubbish! Flour left?”
“Some.”
“Right, take these eggs and two pints of milkfrozen since winter. Well manage till spring, then… gardensll save us. And dont fret over seed potatoesJohn said well spare some. Oh, and…” She whispered in Louises ear.
“Val, what if someone finds out?”
“Who? You got queues at your door? Our sows due any daywell sort you. *Trust me*.”
Two nights later, Val sneaked in a piglet the size of a mitten.
“You *stole* it?”
“Was *dying*, Lou. Litter of thirteenno onell miss one.”
Next morning, Louise was summoned to the farm office.
“Mum,” Tommy clung to her, “maybe theyll let it go?”
“Dont know, love. Watch the little ones.”
The foremanDannys old matecouldnt meet her eyes.
“Louise… go to the barn. Take this chit for milk, pick a pigletValll help. Tell her… make it a *good* one. Or two.”
“How do I *feed* them?”
“Youve got milk. And porridge for the kids. Well give you a heifer come April.”
Louise nodded stiffly.
As she left, he called, “Lou… Im sorry. About Danny. Never thought hed… take *everything*.”
She didnt answer.
So life went. Louise, the kids, and Granwho forgot names, places, even *why* she was there.
Hard? Brutal. Tommy did his bit, Emily (the foremans daughter) helped with chores or babysitting. Even little Billy pitched in.
That stolen piglet? They raised it. Then two morelittle curly-tailed snufflers.
One evening, neighbour Clara called out:
“Lou, let Tommy fix my roof? Ill paygot cracklings saved.”
“No, ta. Boy shouldnt work for scraps. Were *fine*.”
“Oh, *fine*? Saw Danny today with that *tart* of hislaughing on a sleigh, hats crooked. Kids near starving, and hes”
“Whos *starving*? Were *fine*!” Louise hurried off, hid in the shed, and sobbed.
A scratch at the door.
“Mum? You in here?”
“Lou… Im a burden. When I *do* remember… I see how tired you are.”
Louise yanked the rope from Grans hands. *”Whatre you thinking?* After all weve?”
They cried together, Grans tears tracing her wind-beaten wrinkles.
“Come inside. Well bake turnovers tonight.”
Spring came. Gran took to her bed, calling for Danny.
Louise begged Val, “I cant face himnot after what he did.”
“Ill tell John.”
Danny never came. Sent money for the funeral, muttered it was “for the burial.”
The village judged him, of course. But what did *he* care?
When hed left for Lucy, tongues wagged then too. Louise was “dull as dishwater,” but Lucy? *Fire.*
Married Louise on a whimshed been a shy, skinny thing, fresh from the orphanage. Easy to push around. Another girld have slapped him; Louise just cried quietly, clutching her nightgown.
Then the belly swelled. Wellhe wasnt a *monster*. His own dad had scarpered; hed do right.
And he *had* loved her, in his way. She kept a clean house, got on with his mum.
But thenLucy. All curves and smoky eyes, smelling of hay and summer. Thought itd be a fling.
Instead, she coiled round him like a vine.
So he left. Just *left*.
The kids? Theyd manage. *He* had.
But seeing Tommy flinch on the street? Knife to the gut.
People called him a devil. Maybe they were right.
At the fresh grave, Danny knelt.
“Sorry, Mum…”
“She forgave you,” Louise said quietly.
“You? Whatre *you* doing here?”
“Brought you food. Christian custom, isnt it? Eat. Remember her.”
Silence.
“Ill go. You… talk to her.”
“Will she hear?”
“She will. A mothers heart… it just *knows*.”
Louise turned. “Lifes like that, Dan. Rolls you where it pleases.”