Once, in a quiet English village, a mothers pride and joy was her eldest son, Nicholas. From the moment he was born, he was doted uponfair-haired, charming, and quick to smile. Strangers would slip him sweets, and his mother, Mary, would fret, fearing they might bring ill fortune with their kindness. At school, the girls vied for his attention, though his family had little means. Yet no one mocked his worn trousers or threadbare coatsuch was his grace.
On the night of his graduation, every girl wished to take a portrait with him. He chose Katherineplain in face and wit, but her father held sway as a local magistrate. Her gown was the finest, her future assured. She clung to his hand that evening and did not let go for years, leading him at last to the altar.
Mary had doted on him as a child, as one might a painting. He was clever, athleticeverything a mother could wish for, save his poverty. But the village girls cared not, so long as he smiled their way.
Before the wedding, Mary sold her last pig and pressed the coins into his palm. He took them without a word and was gone.
Years earlier, she had arrived in the village with a babe in arms. Some whispered that the childs fathera married manhad bought her the cottage to buy her silence. She kept to herself, working in the village shop, tending a small garden. Suitors came and went, but she turned them all away, insisting she had a husbandthough none had ever seen him.
When Nicholas started school, she met Victor, the new gym instructor, freshly graduated. Their eyes met by chance, and soon they sought each other out. He taught Nicholas to mend a bicycle tyre, took him sledging in winter, helped plant the garden in spring. Yet whenever Mary embraced Victor in the boys presence, Nicholas stiffened.
“Why, love?” she whispered once. “Hes good to us. He could be a father to you.”
“I dont want you to love him!” the boy muttered. “Only me!”
One morning, Nicholas woke to find Victor in his mothers bed.
“This is how itll be now, lad,” the man said kindly.
“No! I wont have you here!” Nicholas shrieked. He refused breakfast, bolted outside, and did not return till dusk.
“Is he still here?” he demanded, tears in his eyes.
Mary nodded.
“Send him away, or I wont come home!”
She pleaded, but the boy would not yield. Victor left that same evening, valise in hand, and never returned.
Mary chose her son.
Years passed. She bore another boy, George, fearing Nicholas might resent himbut he doted on his brother, never asking where he came from. Mary, though, lived in quiet guilt, never daring to scold her golden child.
When Nicholas took up with Katherine, Mary rejoicedher family had wealth, connections. They would lift him from poverty.
One Saturday, she baked pies, boiled broth, and waited. The train came and wentno Nicholas.
“Mother!” George burst in from the pitch. “Nicholas has gone to Katherines house!”
He did not return that night, nor the next morning. When he finally appeared, it was with news:
“Mother, were to be married!”
She bit back her hurt. “When, love?”
“Not here. In London. A student affair.”
By the next weekend, she had sold a piglet, and Nicholas came for the moneytook it without thanks, without counting.
The village buzzed. A grand wedding was planned, yet no invitation came for Mary. Gathering her courage, she went to Katherines family.
“What help could you be?” the mother sneered. “Weve hired professionals. And youneither wife nor widowhave no place there. Your son grew up a bastard. We tolerate him for our daughters sake. But you? Stay away.”
Mary stumbled home, blind with tears.
The wedding was the talk of the shirethree days of feasting, music, and merriment. But the greatest scandal? The grooms mother was absent.
Mary waited all that day, certain he would come. He did not. The bridal cars sped past her cottage, horns blaring. She buried herself under the bedsheets. George pretended to read.
At dusk, George slipped into the wedding party and seized his brothers sleeve.
“Nicholas! How could you? Mothers wept all day!”
“Listen, boy,” Nicholas hissed. “Tell her not to cry. My life is set. My bargain with Katherine and her parentsI wed her, and never set foot in her house again. I gave my word.”
George swung a fist, but Nicholas caught his wrist.
“Run home, runt,” he spat, shoving him into the night.
Mary stood at the door when George returned. She did not ask where hed been. They embraced in silence.
