Dear Diary,
This morning Ethel burst into joy the moment she saw the taxi pull up. Oh, my boys finally home! she cried, clapping her hands. Nigel fumbled with his flat cap at the doorway. Hey, Mum, he said, stumbling over his words, Im not alone. He nudged a lanky teenager in glasses and a backpack forward. Is that my grandson, or a stranger? I cant tell without his spectacles.
Nigel took a seat and continued, Put the hat on, love. This is Vince, my illegitimate son. Remember how Zoe and I split for a year? I was with Vicky then, and this little one was the result. I signed the birth registration in my own name, he sighed.
Ethel scolded him, Why are you talking about this in front of the child? Hes too young to know about your tangled past. Vince, go into the sittingroom and have the telly on while your father and I sort this out. The boy slipped away without a word.
Quietly Ethel asked, Does Zoe know anything about him? She muttered that Zoe never liked her sons wife, calling her a quarrelsome shrew. Nigel shivered, What are you saying, mum? If she had found out shed have thrown me out long ago. I built that boy from the ground up with my own hands.
Ethel sighed, Youre a disaster, not a man but a wobbling fool, always under Zoes heel. How could you father a child on the side? Why bring him here? If Zoe learns, Ill be in trouble. Nigel, nervous, tried to explain, Vicky was about to marry a snake, then ran off with a new bloke down south for a month. She called me, begged me to take the boy wherever I liked, even home. I told her I was losing my mind, that I had a wife who would throw us both out. She threatened me, said shed make it hard if I didnt comply. I gave her the birth certificate, thought it was the end. Vicky barely forgave me; she didnt speak to me for six months. So I thought, let him stay with you a month, then Ill collect him. He never lifted his eyes to his mother.
Ethel shook her head, You were the same reckless lad you were as a child. Whatever you do, Ill help. Lets get rid of him then. Hes not even my blood, is he? She hesitated, He really yours?
Nigel waved his hand, Hes mine, no doubt. Vickys no angel, but Im a loyal old woman. They fell silent. Ethel jumped up, What am I doing still standing? Lets at least feed the lad from the road.
Nigel rose, Sorry, Mum, I must be off. Zoes waiting at home. I told her I was heading to town for parts. Feed Vince and Ill be gone. Ethel embraced her hopeless son and whispered, God be with you, my dear.
Vince ate quickly, never taking his eyes off the plate. Want more? Ethel asked, pitying his speed. No, thank you, he said, standing. Go for a walk, Ill finish dinner. Whats that in your bag? she asked. Things, he grumbled. Will you wash them yourself or should I? Ethel offered. He looked at her, frightened, I dont know how. Mum always did the washing. She lifted his small knapsack, Fine, Ill rinse them, you can dry them later. He left, and she sifted through the modest belongings: two Tshirts, some shorts, a pair of underwear. Not many, she mused, no warm jumper either. Typical motherly oversight. She soaked the clothes in a basin and turned to bake a cherry tart.
A shout came from outside. Ethel rushed out, flour still on her hands. Whats happened? she called. Vince wailed, clutching his leg, A goose pecked me! It hurts! Tears streamed from his eyes. Why did you go near them? They were grazing over there, and you were in the yard, she said, noticing a red blotch on his shin. I just wanted to look at them, he sniffed. You never saw geese before? she asked. Ive seen them, but never got close, he whispered.
Alright, lets get you inside, Ill apply some ointment, she said, taking his hand. After dinner she placed him on the sofa and lay awake, thinking how life had turned. She would never have sent her own boy to a strangers care. The house felt heavy, the trousers too precious to lose. Then she heard a soft whimper, the boy sobbing quietly. She leaned close, Whats wrong, love? Dont you like being here? Wait a month, Mum will take you back.
He lifted his head, voice trembling, She wont. I heard Uncle Victor saying when they come, theyll send me to a boarding school, only to fetch me at holidays. I dont want that. I was happy with Mum. Uncle Victor never calls me by name. Grandmother, youre kind, but Im not wanted. His tears fell harder.
Ethels heart clenched. She hugged his thin frame, Dont cry, Vince. I wont let anyone hurt you. Should I speak to your mother and let you stay with me? Our school is good, the teachers are caring. Well go mushroompicking, berrypicking, milk the cow. Youre so frail, but a good glass of milk will give you strength. Dont believe me? Tomorrow Ill introduce you to Paul, a sturdy lad, as round as a bun, who drinks milk like its his life. Want that? He wrapped his arms around her neck, I do. Will you keep your promise? She kissed his crown, Always.
Years passed. Occasionally Valentina drove in from the city, dropping off parcels, always hurried away by Uncle Victor. Nigel appeared now and then. Zoe learned of Vince and blamed Ethel, not Nigel, saying she didnt need grandchildren, only little oddities. Ethel paid her no mind. The skinny boy grew into a robust young man. This morning she prepared his favourite breakfast, peering out the kitchen window. A young soldier entered quietly, calling, Grandma, Im here, where are you? She ran to him, clinging to his neck, Vince, my dear grandson! He asked, Are you going back to mother? She set down her fork, surprised, Which one? The one who abandoned me and only brought trinkets once a year? No, I wont go. Youre my mother, thats settled, he said, resuming his meal. Ethel wiped away a tear, grateful for the grandson who had become her comfort and support in old age. His blood ran warm in her veins.
