Evelyn drifted home from the market, her arms full of shopping bags that felt lighter than air. Setting them upon the kitchen table, each loaf of bread seemed shaped like a strange animal, the tins gleaming at odd angles. The walls pulsed, a low humming from somewhere upstairs. Suddenly, she heard an unfamiliar clatter echoing from her son and daughter-in-law’s room and floated that way curiously.
Emily, where are you off to? Evelyn asked, bewildered as she found her daughter-in-law gathering clothes, folding them into a suitcase that flickered from navy to crimson.
Im leaving. I cant do this anymore, Emily stammered, heavy tears painting her cheeks in streaks of blue and gold.
What do you mean youre leaving? Where to? Whats happened? Evelyn groped for sense, the corridor elongating behind her. Emily simply held out a letter that shimmered and blurred at the corners.
Evelyn accepted it, opening the velvety paper to read words that made her hands turn briefly to feathers.
Oliver had brought his bride, Emily, back to his villageher suitcase the size of a shoebox, dreams rattling noisily inside. Evelyn, in her fifties, had waited years for her son to settleher heart an apple stored through too many autumns. Their cottage, left to her after her husbands passing, overflowed with the echoes of his efforts: strong beams, a prosperous garden, fields stitched with ancient furrows. Yet Oliver was her only child; exhaustion and old losses had hollowed out the possibility of more. In her widowhood, shed learned to drive the tractor, wrangle the hens, wrestle stubborn weeds from the vegetable patch.
Emily was a slip of a girla decade younger than Oliver, by Evelyns reckoning. Delicate, skittish, as if shed stepped from a foggy memory. Evelyn saw herself in this slight stranger, remembering stepping into her husbands life with nothing but a battered handbag and hope. Oliver had chosen her; at least shed not be alone. Besides, Emily was an orphan. Perhaps, for the best.
All the village girls clung to envyOliver was prized, decent, and well-off. Whispered rumours floated across their pint glasses in the Red Lion. Even after marriage, the glances lingered. But he ignored them all, bolting home from the council yard to his wife and rapidly growing brood. Emily bore him two sons and a daughter, their laughter echoing through the apple trees.
When the youngest was five and the eldest ten, Oliver announced his planto head to London with a mate for work.
Isnt our money enough? Weve got plenty, love. Your wages, mine, and my pension, his mother protested, scrubbing her hands on a tea towel. Wholl mind the place? Im not as spry as I once was.
Im tired of this, Mum! Once Ive found work, well all move to the city. The kids need better schools. Time to sell. Youll come with us, of course.
But the schools just next door! protested Emily, voice trembling.
Youre a city lass at heart. Well all be better off in London.
An orphanage in the city isnt much of a start, murmured Emily. I dont really know. I was so little. And what about your mum? She still needs us, and how will we manage in the city with three?
Thats enough. Its decided. And you, sort yourself out. You look knackered, worn down.
The house floated on in odd, illogical calm. Evelyn and Emily were kindredrarely a cross word spilled in their brittle little world. The boys and girl winked in and out of the garden, dropping apples that rolled away into the flower beds. Evelyn grew fiercely protective; it was easy to imagine Emily was her own daughter. Emily, for her part, soon called Evelyn Mum.
When it came time for Oliver to leave, Emily weptbird-like and hopeless. If you must, then go, Evelyn stated softly. Well manage.
Oliver departed. Letters arrived, trembling with smudged postmarks. Phones belonged to someone elses dream. After six months, Oliver returned in a blur of rain, bearing odd gifts and a pocketful of pounds. Then, as quickly, he vanished again with the winds whistle. His friend returned; his mates wife confided to Evelyn, over mugs of over-strong tea, that Oliver had shacked up with some wealthy woman in London for whom theyd been doing up a flat. No job, just a new life. Evelyn said nothing to Emily; perhaps the truth was different. But the village was a sieverumours spilled into pubs and across hedges.
Emily soon drifted through the cottage like a ghost, gathering up her few things, a letter glowing like moonlight in her hand.
Where are you going? Evelyn asked, her voice lost in a fog.
Emily showed her the note:
Emily, Sorry. Theres someone else. The house will come to me after Mother. Dont waste timego, make something for the kids’ sake. Heres a bit to start you off. After this, youre on your own. Oliver.
Well, hes gone. He can stay gone. Youre not leaving here, Emily. No need for the children to be dragged into strange corners of the world. I cant manage without you all. He cant drive you out. I wont allow it.
Time curled oddly. One sunny day, Oliver came back with the new wife and a slick new car, shining impossibly under the village sun. He had no idea his children were still here, not a clueEvelyn never told. His daughter, now twelve, ran to him, eyes wild, tears falling silently. His eldest stoically took his sisters hand, led her away without a word. The middle child followed.
Thats no father, thats a traitor. Come along, work to do, said the eldest.
Oliver stared mutely as his son started the tractor, driving it across the potato field, turning over the soil. The younger two fed rabbits in hutches that hadnt existed in his memory. The smallholding had grown larger, not smaller; rabbits now punctuated the landscape, almost magical. His children had grown, and he hadnt noticed.
And their motherwheres she? Left you to it? he asked, the sounds of his own voice thin and strange.
Dont judge others by yourself. Her names Emilyremember? Shell be home from work soon. Why the honour of your visit, and both of you no less?
Weve something to discuss.
Then go ahead. Say your piece before Emily returns.
Weve come for you, Mum, Oliver said.
I thought youd come for the children.
The children have their mother. Better for you to come live with us, closer by. Sell the house and land, theres a tidy sum in it. Well buy you a place nearby. All sorted.
And the children?
They can go to the city, get a flat. The citys full of chances for them.
Oh, chances enough, but no hunger for them. Else, wed have gone long ago.
Weve let you knowdont take too long. Got a buyer lined up. Its a good price.
Ive no decision to make. My place isnt here, Evelyn said, the wallpaper trembling behind her.
What are you saying, Mum?
Just then, Emily returned, radiant. Years since Oliver had seen her, shed blossomed, dressed with a confidence she never had before. Her mother-in-laws earrings danced in her ears, and her hair was stylish, vibrant. She seemed a different creature entirelybeautiful in a way Oliver could hardly name. His new wife by comparison seemed insubstantial, like glass.
What, Mum, no tea for the distinguished guest? Emily teased.
The guest is leaving now, hes said his bit. No more to be done. Thank you, son, for the visitdon’t let the memory fade too quickly. And goodbye, young lady. Hope we never meet again.
Oliver slid a slip of paperan unfamiliar numberacross the table. Ring if you need to. And then he and his new wife vanished beyond the apple tree.
He came only once more, for the final farewell. Emily calledhe was, after all, her son. By then, the children had become adults, the eldest with a family of his own. They spoke to Oliver with formal politeness, as though he were an old postman. His daughter didnt even approach.
Emilykids are grown. The house is mine. Ive got a right to live here. Im divorced now. I want to move back. If you like, stay; if not, I wont stop you.
Emily wordlessly handed him the deeds, plucked from the top drawer. Evelyn had put the house in her name the very year Oliver wrote that goodbye note. Oliver left, silent as fog. Emily didnt stop himshe had nothing to hold her there. Her life was now her children and grandchildren; anything else was as distant as the market at the edge of sleep, just another dream vanishing with the morning.
