Victor Marsh pulled into the lane later than usual, his battered Ford sighing as he finally creaked to a stop outside the modest cottage on Willow Lane. Poppy Marsh, his wife, had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, glancing anxiously at the road as though the universe might have stolen her husband outright. Their little boy, Charlie, was wailing from the kitchen hearth, Wheres Daddy? Wheres Daddy? echoing against the timber walls.
At last two bright yellow Ford F150s lit up the front garden, and Victor stepped out, cheeks flushed from the cold.
Dad! Dad! Hooray! Charlie leapt from the stove, hopping on one foot, trying to cram his tiny hands into a warm boot while tugging his coat in a frenzy.
Where do you think youre off to, you little rascal? Its freezing and nights fallenoff to the kettle, then, while I have a quick look inside, Poppy called, halfsmiling.
Charlie pouted, his lips ballooning, and threatened to burst into tears.
Dont whine, Im not chatting to anyone, Poppy snapped, Dad will be in a jiffy.
Victor lingered at the door, still not stepping inside.
Whats the matter with himhad a tipple, perhaps? Poppy muttered, halfjoking. Charlie, sit tight, Ill go see whats up.
Mum, Im scared, the boy whimpered.
Whats that, dear? Scared of a little splash of cold? Sit down, I tell you what, Poppy replied, wrapping a shawl over his shoulders while still tugging at his coat.
Just then the cottage door swung open and a plume of steam rolled in, followed by Victor and a surprising companion. A young woman, barely eighteen, wrapped in a woollen shawl, her brown coat trimmed with black velvet, eyes the colour of a stormy sea, and a thin braid of hair perched on her forehead, stepped forward.
Come in, come in, Evelyn, Poppy said, Tom, give the guest a hand with her coat.
Poppy, still baffled, helped Evelyn shed her coat. The girl, clearly expecting a baby, waddled in like a plump autumn duck, and settled at the kitchen table, placing her trembling handsthin as chicken legson her lap.
Charlie peeked timidly from behind the kettle.
Wheres my son? Nikolwhats your name? Get over here what has Dad brought? Victor barked, snatching Charlie from the hearth and hoisting him to the ceiling with a theatrical flourish. Mum, get something to eatwe cant be starving, can we?
Later, as night deepened, Charlie drifted off, hearing Victor mumble something, Poppys muffled protests, and the soft sobs of their unexpected guest.
By morning the whole village knew Victor Marsh had arrived with his pregnant younger sister.
Blokes left us, no mum or dad leftwhats a girl to do, a doll? Poppy whispered to her neighbour over the fence.
What? You never mentioned you had kin, you said you were an orphan, the neighbour replied.
If Ive no parents, am I still an orphan? Poppy shot back. Where did that sister pop up?
Raised in the orphanage, thats all. Anything else, Auntie? the neighbour teased.
Soon enough, EvelynCharlies auntdecided to give birth, and Victor whisked her off to the district hospital. Not long after, a tiny sister appeared, a cherubic thing named Maisie.
Evelyn never returned. Shes dead, Poppy muttered, slamming the door to keep the chaos at bay.
Maisie was a rattlepink bundle, a proper little doll. Charlie saw her at neighbour Sallys house, cradling her own doll, Antoshka, and mused, Now Maisies my new playmate. No more stuffed toys, a real one!
I dont know what you want, Victor, I dont need her here, Poppy protested.
What? You mean the baby? Shes alive, shes got blood
Im not saying anything, Ive given you my word. Do what you will with her.
What sort of mother are you, taking it all on at first? Victor retorted. What am I to do with her? Send her to a home or the river?
Either way, Im indifferent, Poppy replied.
No, dont send Maisie to a home or the river! Charlie shouted, Mum, please keep her! Ill look after her myself!
Off you go, little helper, well manage without you, Poppy waved, but Charlie clung to the hem of her skirt, cursing politely and begging her not to abandon his sister.
Victor sat in silence, head bowed.
Fine, do what you like, he muttered. Go on, get out.
Poppy turned and slipped into the garden shadows.
Charlie knelt beside Maisie, who slept soundly in a hospitalissued blanket, unaware of the fate being discussed. He whispered soothingly, calling her sunshine, then baby.
Charlies sleep was restless; he kept dreaming his mother would toss his little sister out. Sleep, you naughty little thing, I wont do a thing to your Maisie, his mother hissed, eyes narrowing, as he stared at her suspiciously, fearing she might drown the baby.
What a lark, calling her a girl and never letting her go, she muttered.
Helps here, Poppy, Charlie announced.
Dont babble, she replied, I was at a loss at first, but now Im used to the girl. I wont hand her over to anyone. Next year, Ill think about hiring a nanny
And so life went on. Victor worked as a lorry driver, Poppy milked the cows, and Charlie and Maisie grew up side by side. Charlie would sprint home from school, arms outstretched, scooping up his wobblylegged sister.
The neighbourhood kids all called Maisie the little miss.
Charlie later joined the army, and Maisies cries echoed through the house. He raised her proper, like a father and mother, the village women chattered, Poppys a bit rough, Victors a silent sort, but the kids are a different breed.
When Charlie returned from his stint, hed taken a job as a bus driver, brought a girl home, and asked Maisie if she approved. She didshe liked the future soninlaw.
Charlie married, and the girl blossomed into a stunning young lady. She left for university, promising to visit her brother first before returning home.
Maisie, now a nurse back in the village, found a decent husband, settled down, and had children of her own. The old couple, Victor and Poppy, grew frail, and it was time for Victor to bow out. Poppy, exhausted, handed Maisie over to her mother, who had finally given in.
One night, Maisie, halfasleep, heard a familiar voice call, Mum?
Come sit, love, Poppy coaxed. Yes, of course.
Sorry, dear, Poppy whispered. I never meant to send you to a home. I was scared.
Mother, you think I dont get it? This is my uncles niece, practically a strangers child. I bear you no grudge, no need for forgiveness
You were my fathers daughter, not a niece, Maisie replied.
Right, love. Im not sure where that Evelyn vanished to, but the old man spun a tale, said hed take her back, otherwise hed pen a statement. So dad brought you here, confessed everything.
Everyone learned Victors younger sister had been the one whod helped around the house, looked after Nicholas, then was taken to give birth and never came back.
Mother you took in your husbands lover? Maisie asked.
Yes, dear, I took her in. Her belly was about to burst, there was a child inside and I? Do I abandon my own son because his father slipped up? Maybe that was fate; I wanted a daughter, oh I wanted her so badly, and here you are
Who arranged this? Maisie pressed.
God, perhaps, Poppy replied, sighing.
Mother, youve spent your life hiding behind the grave Maisie chided gently.
Its not her its another orphan girl, same name as your mother. Your shes alive, younger than me by ten years
How?
She left you, walked away, left you behind.
Mum
You must forgive me, love. I couldnt keep this secret, it was unfair to you. You have relativescousins, aunts, uncles, a brother named Colin, an aunt Kate, Uncle Vickyyour whole big family, thanks to you, Mum. You didnt give birth to me, but you gave me life.
My dear child my dear
Poppy lived a little longer, then slipped away peacefully, smiling at Victor. In her twilight, she recounted her life to Maisie, now known as Mary Victor, the story of the large, loving family shed helped build.
Dont measure your life by others misfortunes, Mary advised, whether you can or cant, nobody knows how fate will turn. Remember how many years ago all this began. Some might never manage, but I did. My character was tough, yet I made it.
And with that, she tipped her hat in respect.
