Life, its just like that.
Timmy, sniffling from the cold, was dragging a dry pine log on his big sled. The tree had fallen right at the edge of the villagetechnically, he wasnt supposed to take it, but old Tom, the local woodsman, had whispered to him, “Wait till dark, then go fetch it.”
The boy strained, pulling the heavy timber, his breath coming in puffs.
“Tim! Timmy!” someone calledsure enough, there she was, sharp-eyed Lucy, his classmate.
“What dyou want?”
“Let me help.”
Cheeky thingwhered a girl get that kind of strength, eh? Still, it was easier with two of them. They both leaned into the sled and hauled it forward.
“Whos watching the little ones, Tim?”
“Nan, who else? Mums at work.”
“Ah. I came by to help with your homework, but it was dark at yours and the door was locked. Danny told me through the door youd gone toward the woods. Said you told em to stay put.”
“Had to lock it…”
“Shes still running off?”
“Still does. Always tries to get back to Scotland, to her mum.”
“Oh, bless her. Suffering herself and making you all suffer too.”
“Yeah.”
The kids dragged the log up to Tims house.
“Cheers, Luce.”
“Dont mention it. Hand us the sawlets chop this quick.”
“Nah, Ill do it. Youve helped enough.”
“Oh, sure, *youll* do iteither youll nick yourself with the handsaw, or well just get it done together.”
They grabbed the saw between them, and soon enough, neat little logs were scattered across the ground.
In the window, the faces of six-year-old Danny and two-year-old Annie peeked out.
Tim took the axe, drove it clean into a logcrack!then struck again with the blunt side. One more swing, and the log split clean in two.
Lucy gathered wood chips while Tim chopped. Once they had a good pile, they carried it inside, and the boy quickly got the stove going. Soon, warm firelight flickered across the ceiling.
The room grew cosy.
“Let me make you some soup. Auntie Lizll be back from workshe wont have to cook.”
“No, were fine,” Tim muttered, embarrassed. “Nanll do it.”
“Oh, no, no, Timmy,” Danny piped up. “Let Lucy make it, eh? Remember last time Nan made that awful stew? Threw in cabbage, peas, even Mums dill seedsthe stuff she brews when Annies poorly and wetting the bed. Couldnt eat it!”
“Ill cook, Danny. Cmon, help me.”
“And whore *you*?” Granny shuffled down from the stove in her felt boots, quilted jacket, and shawl.
“Nan, take that offits warm now.”
“Freezing, Johnny.”
“Johnny? Im Tim, your grandson.”
“Oh? Wheres Johnny, then?”
“Gone hell be back soon.”
“Is she on about Uncle John?”
“Yeah she dont understand much. Ever since he left, shes been worse.”
“Why didnt he take her? Shes his *mum*.”
Tim shrugged. He hated talking about it.
JohnnyTims dad, the little ones father, Mums husband.
Ran off to his fancy woman. Not only left Granny with them, but did it right before wintersly and cruel about it too. Slaughtered the pigs, took the meat, led away the cowtheir only lifelineeven took little Daisy the heifer.
Mum begged, “At least leave Daisy, well raise her for milk.”
But he just laughed. “What kinda man turns up to his new woman empty-handed?”
Tim had hated him ever since. Cleared out half the storestook sacks of potatoes, even divided up the cutlery, counted every spoon.
And Lizzie just stood there, watching him take them.
Liz got home to find the kids at the table by the paraffin lamp. Tim was reading fairy tales to Danny. Granny sat on the bed, leaning against the warm stove. Annie slept behind her, thumb in mouth.
“Mum,” Danny whispered, “its so warm now. Tim got wood, him and Lucy chopped it, lit the fire. Lucy made soupproper nice. Annies asleep. Granny tried to run to Scotland twicewe caught her.”
Liz undid her coat, smiled faintly, ruffled Dannys mop of hair.
“Timmy you do so much.”
“Salright, Mum. Get changed, have some soupit *is* good.”
After supper, Liz sat mending clothes when a knock came at the window.
“Timmy, see whos there.”
The door swung open, letting in a gust of icy airand Val, bundled up tight.
“Blimey, its brass monkeys out there! Gonna drop below freezing tonight, mark my words. Lizzie, brought you some cracklings and a bit of lardhere.”
“Ta, Val, but you shouldnt”
“Course I should! You got flour?”
“A bit.”
“Right, heres two pints of milkfroze it last winterand some eggs. Bake something, eh? Well manage till spring, then gardensll get sorted, thingsll ease up. Dont fret over seed potatoesIan said well give you some, so use what youve got. And listen” Val whispered something in Lizs ear.
“Oh, Val, what if they find out?”
“Who? Like youve got crowds round yours? Our sows about to farrowso dont worry, Lizzie. Well be alright.”
Two nights later, Val sneaked over with a piglet the size of a mitten. She worked as a swineherd on the collective farm.
“Val, Im scaredwhat if they notice?”
“They wont. Thirteen in the litterthis ones the strongest.”
Next day, Liz got called to the office. She hugged the kids.
“Mum,” Tim sobbed, “maybe itll be okay?”
“Dont know, love. Look after the little ones”
The foremanmate of John, Lizs excouldnt meet her eyes. “Go to the farm, Lizzie.”
“What for, Frank?”
“Go on. Heres a chit for milk. Take a pigletValll pick you a good one. Or two, if you like?”
“And whatll I feed them?”
“Milk, like I said. Porridge for the kids Come April, the farmll give you a heifer. Take it?”
“Ill take it,” Liz said, lips dry. “Can I go?”
“Go on. Lizzie” He stopped her at the door.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry.”
“For what, Frank?”
“For Johnny. Didnt think hed turn out such a rotter. A bit of funs one thing, but leaving kids, his *mum*, stripping the place bare only just found out, my missus told me.”
“Whyd you not say? Got taters?”
“Some.”
“Right. Speak up if youre short. Well fetch firewood too”
So Liz livedwith the kids and Granny, whod lost her memory, never knowing who anyone was or why she was there.
It was hard. Tim was always helping. Lucythe foremans daughterpitched in too, minding the kids or lending a hand. Even little Danny did his bit. Thats how they got by.
They raised that piglet Val broughtand two more after, tails curled, snouts sniffing.
One day, walking home, a neighbour called out.
“Lizzie”
“Yeah, Auntie Clara?”
“Listen, lovelet Tim fix my roof, eh? Ill pay him. Got cracklings from last autumn still”
“No, ta. Wont have him working for scrapswere not starving.”
“Yknow, Lizzie, I went to see Martha the other dayyour Johnnys with that that *barge* of a woman, Lucy. Saw em on a cart, standing up! Him driving, cap all crooked, her hanging on behind, both laughing their heads off”
“And the kids starvingmeans nothing to him.”
“Who says were starving? Were *fine*. Whats it to you?”
Liz hurried home.
“Oh, *fine*, are you? Pale as ghosts, the lot of you. Like we dont know Johnny cleared you out”
Liz bolted to the shed and let the tears come.
Thenscratching at the door.
“Mum? You in there?”
“Lizzie Im a burden. When my minds clear, I see it tired you out, worn you down.”
“What? Whatre you on about” She yanked the rope from Grannys hands. “Whyd you do this to me? Whatve I ever done to you, Mum?”
Liz cried. Granny cried too, tears running down her weather-beaten face.
“Come inside. Well make currant buns today.”
“Alright, love.”
By spring, Granny took to her bed. Kept calling for her son.
“Val dont know what to do. She wants Johnny. I cant go fetch him.”
“Ill tell Ian”
Johnny never came to say goodbye. Sent money instead, grunted at Ian it was for the funeral.
The village judged him, of course. But what did he care? First time, was it? When he ran off to that Lucy, tongues wagged then too.
He didnt love Lizziesaid she was dull as dishwater. But Lucy? Now *she* was a firecracker.
Married Lizzie on a whimshed been sent to the village after college, small, shy. Never seen a girl like her. Had his way with her first gowhat could she do?
Another lass mightve fought back. She just cried quietly, clutching her dressing gown.
So he kept at it. She never refusedorphan, no dad, no mum
Then she got pregnant. Well, what was he, a monster? Grew up without a father himself. So he married her.
Almost loved her, in a way. Good housekeeper, got on with his mum, kept things tidy. And Lizzie she *did* love him.
Second baby came along when he met Lucy. Howd *she* grown up so fast? Strong, smouldering eyes, smelled like summer meadows
Thought hed have a bit of funbut no. She wrapped him round her finger.
Left. Shut his eyes and jumped. Three kids abandoned. But he *had* loved them. Thenjust like thatsomething clouded over.
Kids well, *hed* turned out alright. They would too. Lucy said shed give him new ones
Tim turns away when he sees him nowcuts like a knife. The little ones barely remember him. Whats he to do? Fell in love, didnt he?
They judge him. Call him a monsterorphaned his kids, didnt even say goodbye to his mum.
Couldnt. Couldnt look into Lizzies quiet eyes.
That day, all high and mighty, he took everything And now? Ah, let em judge. Whos looked into *his* soul, eh? They say hes black-hearted. Maybe he is.
Johnny stood at the fresh mound of earth, the cross with its white cloth. He knelt.
“Sorry sorry, Mum”
“She forgave you, John. Came to her senses at the end.”
“You whatre you doing here?” he growled at Lizzie.
“Brought you breakfast. Christian custom Have some. Remember your mum.”
Silence.
“Ill go. You talk to her.”
“Will she hear?”
“Shell hear, John. A mothers heart its like that. And life well, lifes just like that, John. He broke the bread slowly, his hands trembling. The wind tugged at the white cloth on the cross. Somewhere beyond the trees, a woodpecker drummed. He ate in silence, tears cutting through the dirt on his face. Back at the house, Tim stood at the window, watching the distant hill. Lucy joined him, handing him a mug of tea. “Shes gone,” he said. “I know,” she whispered. The kettle began to whistle. He didnt move. The fire still burned.
