Oh, love, youre wasting your time with him, he wont marry you, Aunt Mary warned.
Evelyn had just turned sixteen when her mother passed away. Her father had left for work in London seven years earlier and never returned not a word, not a penny.
Everyone in the village came to the funeral and helped in every way they could. Evelyns godmother, Aunt Mary, often checked in, reminding her of what needed doing. Eventually, Evelyn finished school and started working at the post office in the next village.
Evelyn was robust, the sort of girl people described as fit as a fiddle. She had a round, rosy face, a button nose, and bright, grey eyes. Her thick, sandy braid hung down her back.
The most handsome lad in the village was Thomas. Hed returned from the army two years ago, and girls never stopped calling on him even those from the city who visited for the summer competed for his attention.
He could have been an actor in a London drama, not just a driver in the countryside. Thomas enjoyed his freedom and wasnt in any hurry to settle down.
One evening, Aunt Mary asked Thomas to help Evelyn fix her fence, as it was about to collapse. Life in the countryside was tough without a man to lend a hand. Evelyn managed her garden, but she couldnt keep the house in shape alone.
Without complaining, Thomas agreed. He arrived, surveyed the fence, and started directing: Bring this, fetch that, hand it over. Evelyn did whatever he asked, her cheeks growing even redder, her braid swinging every time she moved.
When Thomas wore himself out, she fed him hearty stew and strong tea. Shed watch him chew thick slices of brown bread, mesmerized by his white, sturdy teeth.
He spent three days mending the fence; on the fourth, he turned up just for a visit. They ate supper and chatted, and that night, he stayed over. It became a habit; hed leave before sunrise so no one would see. But nothing is secret in a village.
Oh, Evelyn, dont waste your heart, hell never marry you. And even if he does, you’ll regret it. When summer comes and the city girls arrive, what will you do? Jealousy will ruin you. You need a steadier lad, Aunt Mary cautioned.
But what does youth in love care for wise old words?
Later, Evelyn realized she was expecting. At first, she thought it was just illness, but soon enough, the truth struck: she was carrying Thomass child.
She considered ending it she was too young for a baby. But then thought better of it. At least she wouldn’t be alone. Her mother raised her; she could manage as well. Her father hadnt been much use either. People would gossip, but they’d quiet down eventually.
When spring came and Evelyn shed her coat, the whole village saw the tell-tale bump. Heads would shake, clucking tongues trouble for the girl, they said. Thomas came round, curious about her plans.
What else? Ill have the child. Dont worry, Ill raise it myself. You carry on as you were, she told him, moving around the kitchen as the fire threw red flushes onto her cheeks.
Thomas lingered for a moment, then left. She had decided. Hed just drift away. Summer arrived, and the city girls flocked back. Thomas lost interest in Evelyn.
Meanwhile, she quietly tended her garden, helped by Aunt Mary, who came to weed when Evelyns stomach grew too big to bend. Lugging heavy buckets of water became a struggle. Her bump was so large the village women predicted a strapping boy.
Whatever God sends, Evelyn joked.
In mid-September, she woke one morning to a sharp pain, like her belly was splitting. It subsided, then returned. She rushed to Aunt Mary, who immediately understood.
Is it time? Sit tight, Aunt Mary said and dashed out.
She hurried to Thomas, whose lorry was parked outside. Most of the other villagers had left for the season. Typical, Thomas had had a drink the night before.
Aunt Mary shook him awake; Thomas stared, confused. When the situation hit, he exclaimed:
Its ten miles to the hospital! By the time we fetch a doctor and return, she’ll have delivered. Best drive her straight there. Get her ready.
In the lorry? Youll jolt her so much shell give birth on the road! Aunt Mary fretted.
Come with us, just in case, Thomas insisted.
He drove gently for two miles on the battered track, avoiding one pothole only to drop into another. Aunt Mary sat in the back on a sack. When they hit tarmac, they sped up.
Evelyn writhed in pain, gripping her stomach, biting her lip to keep quiet. Thomas sobered up quickly, glancing at her, his jaw tense, knuckles white on the wheel.
They made it just in time, dropped her at the hospital, and headed home. Aunt Mary berated Thomas the whole way:
Youve ruined her life! Shes alone, barely grown, and youve left her with a child. How will she manage?
Before the lorry reached the village, Evelyn had given birth to a healthy baby boy. The next morning, they brought him to her to feed. Nervously, she watched his red, wrinkled face, unsure how to hold or nurse him.
Her heart thudded with joy as she watched him. She studied his tiny head and soft hair, feeling amazed and suddenly hopeful.
Will someone pick you up? the stern, older doctor asked before discharge.
Evelyn shrugged and shook her head. Doubt it.
He sighed and left. The nurse bundled the child in a hospital blanket for the journey, telling her to bring it back. Fred will drive you home in the hospital car. Youre not to take the bus with a baby, she scolded.
Evelyn thanked her, walking down the corridor, head down and red with embarrassment.
On the drive home, she clutched her boy close, worrying about the future. Her maternity benefits were barely enough for lifes basics. She pitied herself and her innocent son, but looking at his wrinkled face as he slept, tenderness swelled and chased her fears away.
Suddenly, the car stopped. Evelyn looked anxiously at Fred, a short man of fifty or so.
Whats wrong?
Two days rain has flooded the road look at those puddles! Ill get stuck. Only a lorry or tractor can pass. Sorry, its just a couple of miles left. Can you walk?
Baby asleep in her arms, she felt exhausted even sitting still. How could she walk such a muddy road? She got out, took her son securely, and trudged along the edge of the enormous puddle, her shoes squelching through ankle-deep mud. One shoe sank and wouldnt budge; with the baby in her arms, she couldnt pull it out. She continued in one shoe.
By evening, she reached the village, numb with cold, glad for the warm lights in the windows. She climbed the dry front steps, body slick with sweat under tension, opened her door, and froze.
Against the wall stood a crib and a pram filled with clothes for the baby. At the table, Thomas slept with his head in his arms.
He must have sensed her or heard her; he raised his head. Evelyn, flushed and disheveled, still holding the baby, stood in the doorway, her dress damp, legs muddy, one shoe missing.
Seeing her plight, Thomas rushed over, took the baby and tucked him in the cot, fetched a pot of hot water from the hearth, sat Evelyn down, helped her undress, and washed her feet. As she changed behind the stove, he placed boiled potatoes and a jug of milk on the table.
The baby cried. Evelyn hurried over, picked him up, and fed him without embarrassment.
Whats his name? Thomas asked hoarsely.
Samuel. Do you mind? She looked up with clear, grey eyes.
Their eyes met, full of longing and love, and Thomass heart twisted.
A fine name. Tomorrow, lets register him and get married, Thomas said.
Theres no need… Evelyn began, watching Samuel suckle.
My son should have a father. Enough wandering. I may not be the best man, but I wont leave my son.
Evelyn nodded quietly.
Two years later, they had a daughter, Alice, named after Evelyns late mother.
It doesnt matter what mistakes you make at the start of life; what counts is that they can always be put right.
Thats the story as it happened. Life will bring its hardships, but with courage and kindness, even the roughest roads can lead to happiness.
