Natalie was returning from the Co-op, her hands weighed down with bulging carrier bags. She was nearly home when she saw a strange car parked beside her front gate. Who on earth can that be? Im not expecting anyone, she thought, the words swirling quietly in her mind like mist on the moor. Drawing closer, she glimpsed a young man standing in the front garden, his figure blurred for a moment as if seen through rain-soaked glass.
Hes here! she cried in a voice both young and old, and all at once her bags tumbled to the path as she rushed to embrace her son. But he held up an arm, a hesitant gesture. Wait, Mum. Theres something I need to tell you first. His tone was soft and strange, as if borrowed from another realm. Anxiety flickered through Natalie. Whats happened? she breathed, perched suddenly on the stone bench by the garden hedge, bracing herself for something vast.
Natalie lived alone now, in a picture-perfect village lodged between fields of green and lazy rivers. Her husband had drifted away two years before, as silently and inevitably as the morning fog. Her only son, Victor, had gone to London after a turn with the RAF, never truly returning except in rare and fleeting visits. He worked now at a factoryan engineer with grease-stained hands and dreams he never described. At first, hed shared a flat, but these days everything was different; the details eluded her, kept at arms length.
He visited more often since buying his own car, swooping in unannounced like a gull at the seaside, bearing groceries and jumpers and quiet tokens of care. Shed protest, stone-faced, but he brought them still. The last time, a hand-knitted woolly scarfshe wore it even when it wasnt cold, as though it made him nearer.
But of his own life: nothing. Alls fine, dont fuss, hed say, and that was that. Word trickled in roundabout, as gossip does in villages. Vera, her kindly young neighbour, was the messenger once.
Natalie had packed a little parcel for her sonjam, pickled mushrooms, something to sweeten the world. Vera phoned him up and met him in town. She returned, all bright eyes and whispers. Oh, Auntie Natalie, hes turned up with a ladydriving his own car! Took the lot and sends his love, says hell pop round.
What sort of lady? Natalie asked, half-smiling.
No idea! She never left the car, looked to be older than him by five years at least, quite full-figured, heavy makeup. Looked like she means business.
Natalie mulled this over. Her son never spoke of private matters. Perhaps shed ask next timenot that she had long to wait.
Walking home from the shops one golden afternoon, Natalie found her son in the garden with a young boy at his side. A car waited near the gate, humming gently.
Hes come! she cried again, eager for the embrace, but this time Victor stepped back.
Hello, Mum. Meet Jamie. Hes like a son to me now, Victor said in a tone that made the roses shiver.
Well, come in out of the wind. No sense lingering. With a sweep, the table was setpotatoes still hot in the pot, pickled cabbage, tender beef, crisp cucumbers. Jamie sat slumped, poking at his food, his eyes searching corners where only dreams lived. After tea, he was sent out to explore, and Victor took a breath.
Mum, the thing is, he began, voice low. I married last year. Well, not quite marriedjust signed at the registry with Helen. Jamies her boy. I didnt want to upset you, didnt mention it. Helen she doesnt want to meet in-laws. Had a rough first marriage, grand rows with the old mother-in-law. Thats what drove her to leave. He passed not a year later, and so did his motherleft them the flat and the car. When we met, she asked me in, and we just sort of did it, quietly. She wont hear a word about mothers-in-law.
And why bring Jamie to me? Natalie asked, her world tilting only slightly as she spoke.
Its summer, Mum. Helens pregnant, due in August. She struggles with Jamiehes a handful, and Im at work all hours. Could you watch him till autumn? Ill take him home for school.
Course I will though will he want to stay with an old gran in the sticks?
Victor shrugged. Helen says its not his choicehes to do as told.
Natalie thought this over but didn’t interfere. Shed never met Helencould hardly blame her for her wariness. Jamie, all of eight, was hardly a handful. Besides, soon enough, thered be a granddaughter or grandsona quiet joy.
The next morning Victor drove away, Jamie pressed silent at the rain-dusted window.
Natalie approached him gently. Lets get our bearings, eh? You can call me Gran Natalie. What year are you at school, love?
Going into Year Three, he muttered, not budging.
Well, come see the hens when youre ready. Ill show you the garden. Strawberries will be ripe soon. Were an early bunch here.
I dont want to, Jamie replied.
And why not? I wont bite, love. Nor will my old dog, Arthur, if thats got you worried.
Mum says youre mean. And Im not staying long anyhow. Arthur doesnt bother me.
Well, fancy that! Your mums never met mehow can she say so? Stay in if it suits you, but Ill be in the garden, minding the chickens, darling.
Natalie vanished outside, heart troubled for the boy. Helen must have had a rough time to mistrust anyone whod ever been a mother-in-law. Never mind; gentleness might wear down the sharpest stones.
There was little to tendthe chickens and a couple of ducks did for company. She bought her milk and cheese from Mrs. Vera next door; swapped eggs for a jar of jam now and then. And so the days tiptoed past.
A week slipped by, and Jamie began to edge from his shellstroking Arthur in the yard, gobbling strawberries off the vine. He didnt rush to help, but Natalie didnt press him. At last, when she next set off for the shop, she invited Jamie along; to her surprise, he agreed.
On the way home, Jamies silence burst into questions and stories, as though a tap had been turned. Conversation stretched all the way to the doorstep, and he was a changed child. He helped with chores, watered the beds, fed Arthur himself, made friends with the village lads, and disappeared outdoors until dusk. He grinned often, pored over a battered old Robinson CrusoeVictors childhood copythen retold every adventure to Natalie, chortling at Fridays antics as she worked her knitting. He reminded her so keenly of Victor at that age: talkative, full of life.
Then, one sticky August afternoon as summer hung heavy, Victor returned. His face beamed with gladness. Weve had a little girlJulia. Helen and I. Im collecting them from the hospital tomorrow, just wanted to share the news! Hows Jamie?
Dad, Im happy here with Gran Natalie! Jamie piped in. Please can I stay a bit longer? Ill meet my sister when school starts.
And so the boy remained until September. Natalie knitted tiny socks, a newborn cap, and a featherlight blanket for Julia. For Helen, a pair of mittens. Victor hugged his mother, shook Jamies hand like he was grown, then drove away in a haze of sunlight.
August faded to its ragged edge. Jamie was kicking a football with the village lads when a car appeared at the end of the laneeveryone scattering to watch the spectacle. Up rolled the car, out stepped a plump woman cradling a child, followed by Victor. He took the tiny bundle and Jamie ran to meet them.
Mums here! Jamie called, but promptly tripped, skinning his knee. Unfazed, he stuck a dock leaf to the scrape, just as hed learned from the others. Helen brushed his forehead with a kiss, gathered his hand, and followed Victor inside.
Is it usual for boys to tear round the street like savages? was her greeting.
Welcome, Helen, said Natalie quietly. Nice to see you. Boys round here run freebetter than locking them up. Jamies been grand, helping me in the house and garden. He needs a bit of play.
Natalie peered into the pramher granddaughter slept, angelic and untroubled, and tears blinked onto Natalies cheek.
She fed the family with beetroot soup thick with cream, slices of brown bread warm from the Aga; at the table, Helen was brisk. Weve come to take Jamieschool starts soon. He must be fed up here; Im sure hes chomping at the bit for city life.
Jamie stood up, voice clear and loud. I dont want to go back to the cityI want to stay here with Gran Natalie. Mum, you lied. Shes kind.
Helens cheeks blossomed deep scarlet, her lips mute with shock.
You mustnt speak like that to your mum, Jamie, Natalie said steadily. Apologise and go play, but stay in the garden, theres a dear.
Jamie ducked his head, mumbled, and hurried out.
Dont fret about him, Helen, Natalie soothed. Hes a lovely boy. Youve raised him well; hes made my summer a blessing. Thank you for letting him stay. Hes welcome every yearbrightens the place.
Suddenly Julia woke, mewling, and Helen darted to her. The family stayed two more days. Victor mended doors and shelves; Helen hovered by Julia; Natalie cooked for them all, while Jamie dashed abouthelping father, mother, or gran as needed, telling everyone how wonderful the summer had been.
At last, car packed, Victor and the children bade their goodbyes. Helen approached Natalie, embracing her in an odd, close moment. Thank you, Mum, she whispered. I dont remember my ownnever expected mothers-in-law could be so gentle. Im sorry. I love Victor. Hes kind, like you.
Hes yours, love, more than mine now. My joys all here. Do bring Jamie againIve grown fond of him.
And so the dream ended as softly as it began: with Natalie moving in with them for winter, to help with children and chores, and a gentle peace growing between her and Helen. Victor and Jamie flourished in the bright tangle of their laughter, as summer passed into memory, and autumn drifted quietly through their English village.
