“Why have you come back?” Mother kept the door half-shut, her eyes cold. “How am I supposed to face the neighbours now? You’re no daughter of mine. The gossips only just stopped. Your father and I couldn’t even step into the shop for half a year. Why did you come back? Well?”
“Who’s that, Grace?”
“Your eldest daughter’s come back, Charles.”
“Edith?”
Father swung open the sturdy timber door, the hinges singing in protest.
He looked Edith up and down, with a gaze that made her stomach twist. She felt small under it.
“Go wherever you pleaseI don’t want to see you. Look at you! And expecting, too.”
Edith said nothing, hiding behind her thick, dark fringe; still hoping pity might soften them, hoping they’d let her in. She had nowhere else to go. She’d been dismissed from her job when her pregnancy showed. She couldn’t keep up with the rent on her little roomno money meant no home. No one was interested in her troubles. She was afraid.
Stepping down from the porch, Edith stopped and clutched her growing belly.
“She won’t thaw,” Mother muttered and turned away.
Father shut the door behind them.
Edith hunched in on herself, fighting tears. The baby squirmed within, sensing her distress. So this was coming home…
The snow crunched beneath her boots, a sympathetic sound. Edith closed the gate behind her and threw one longing look at the kitchen window, where light glowed behind the drawn curtains.
The village shop was warm. Edith entered, scanning around. Nothing had changed: counter to the right with Mrs. Wilcox behind it, display cases to the left, and the blue-painted cupboard with a padlock.
“A loaf of bread, please,” Edith counted out some coins.
“Oh, look who it is!”
Edith kept her head down. “The bread, if you don’t mind.”
“There you are, though I shouldn’t by rights. Still, not for me to judge…”
Mrs. Wilcox passed a fresh loaf across and drew breath to say more, but a young couple entered just then.
Edith packed away the bread, though the loaf was so big and springy it barely fit in the bag, almost demanding to be eaten at once.
The shopkeeper began whispering to the couple, nodding at Edith, but she hurried out before much more could be said.
Snow was falling now, and the wind had eased. Edith tore off a piece of bread, closing her tired eyes. One worry, at least, eased by a mouthful of home.
She slipped behind the shop, leaned against the cold wall, and munched the comforting breadits aroma thick with memories and fleeting happiness.
“Edith?” a voice startled her.
Edith opened her eyes, wary, then recognised Mrs. Andrews, James’ grandmother.
“Why are you hiding back here?”
“I’ve nowhere else. My parents turned me out.”
“So it wasn’t any better there, then?” The old woman tilted her head.
Edith simply shrugged.
“Come on, then,” Mrs. Andrews said gently. She didn’t ask more.
The two made their way down the road, Mrs. Andrews moving slow with her walking stick. After a deep breath, Edith followed. Her thoughts were clouded by exhaustion; she just wanted to sleep.
Edith remembered Mrs. Andrews cottage on the edge of the village. She and James had run past that place to their “secret field” as children. Once, James had waved at the gate: “Morning, Gran, see you later!”
“Hello,” Edith would say, for politeness’ sake.
Mrs. Andrews had only seen her a handful of times, but what had happened lodged Edith in the memory. Now, Edith so wished she could go back, shed all her shame, and feel James lips on hers againjust once, to be young and free, with the world ahead…
She often wondered why Peter, her classmate in Year 9, ever noticed her at all. She was no beauty, quiet, not a straight-A student. But he paid her attention. How could she refuse? It was pleasing to be liked. Hed carry her books, walk her home, and so friendship turned to courtship. Soon enough, everyone was talking wedding plans.
Both sets of parents smiled and agreed. “When Peters back from National Service, then well sort things.”
Preparations began in hush.
Then one summer day, Edith met James quite by chance. It was one of those rare, thunderous days.
Returning from townit was stifling on the busEdith was alone; Peter stayed behind to help his father on the farm. The walk from the stop to the village was a mile or so, straight through the fields.
She stepped off the bus, not hurrying. The sky behind her grew dark, but ahead was just green grass and wildflowers.
Thunder crashed, and Edith raised her arms over her head in fright.
She glanced back. That black cloud split the sky, rain coming fast. Nowhere to runonly open field all around, not a house in sight. The first drops splattered on the dusty lane nearby. In a panic, Edith shoved her sandals in a bag and tried to hold it over her hair.
Big drops smacked down. The roaring rain caught her up as she trotted faster, finally breaking into a run. And then, someone grabbed her by the arm.
A car had just pulled up. A young man helped drag her to shelter.
“I was honking for ages! You didn’t hear me,” he shouted over the downpour. “Pouring cats and dogs! Were you frightened?”
Edith, soaked and trembling, hardly knew what to say.
He peeled off his shirt, tossed it behind, then rummaged for a dry jumper.
“Heredont fret. Im from Oakley, toodont you remember me? Im James Andrews.” He wrapped her in warm wool, close enough that Edith blushed.
“Youll be warm in a momenthad a coat but its wet. Did you come by the bus?”
“Yes.”
“Ive been to town for my dad, collecting some parts. No need to shiver,” he smiled kindly.
“What’s your name again?”
“Edith.”
“Edith, is it… Why arent we heading off?”
“Clouds just now covering the villageif we drive straight there, well get the full storm. It’ll pass soon.”
Edith noddedhe was right. She felt foolish.
They chatted easily, as though they’d known each other years. James worked with his father on their farm, his mother died when he was twelve. Hed not gone off to Universitymissed the entrance last year, but there was always work.
He dropped Edith at her gate and flashed a warm goodbye.
She smiled. Their talk had been easy, their meeting charmed… With Peter, she had never felt such a natural affection. Even his embrace or kiss stirred nothing in her.
The whole evening, Edith wore a thoughtful little smile.
Mother noticed. She asked twice, but Edith said nothing. Now, every time a car rolled by, Ediths heart leaptwas it James?
She ached to see him againto relive the feeling.
That evening, Peter called, but Edith found she could hardly look at him. She plucked up courage at last: “We ought to call things off and part as friends. Youll go for service, Ill go for studies. Maybe well meet againif were meant to be, well marry then.”
“No,” Peter said, not understanding. “Wholl wait for me?”
“Why should you need that?”
“I liked you since school… and now this!”
She couldnt speak more to Petershe left the house, and for the first time she saw anger in his eyes. It scared her.
The next day, Peters parents came round. There was a dreadful rowhis mother shouted at length, blaming everyone but Peter. Edith slipped out and crossed the gardens to the little wood.
She wandered till dusk, ending up where the road meets the village.
“Edith! Edith!” a voice called.
James was waving. For a second, she froze, then realised she couldn’t bear a moment more alone. She walked toward him, then ran. They stood, eyes meeting.
“I thought it was you. Need a lift?”
“No, there was a row at homeI couldn’t stay…”
“What about?”
“I’ve broken up with Peter… Its you I think of all the time, James.”
“I know. Since the day of the thunderstorm Ive not stopped. Thats why I didnt come roundheard you were to marry Peter.”
“Thats off now.”
James touched her lips, gentle and soft. He took her in his arms.
They stayed like that, sure all would be alright. Edith returned home in darkness, her mother having turned off the kitchen lamp.
“What on earth have you done, Edith? Three years together with Peter, then you give him the boot. How could you?”
“I love someone else. For real,” Edith said in a clear voice.
“What?” Father entered, cross. “Ill show you true love. Youll stay in till exams.”
But they couldnt keep her indoors.
Edith and James would meet when they could, always at their secret spot out of sight.
One day, though, it all unravelledsomeone spotted them and told Peter. There was a fighteveryone at the riverbank saw it, two young men arguing by the waters edge.
James stumbled back, lost his footing, and tumbled over the bank…
James father, just arriving, barely had time to kick his shoes off before diving into the water after him.
Edith, Edith! Quick, come to the riverPeters fighting James, and now James is in the water! They say its all over, gasped her friend, Lily.
Edith dropped the watering can and ran. People crowded the bank.
Theyve called an ambulance, someone said distantly.
No good now. Peterll be in trouble, bet you…
By the time Edith arrived, James’ father had driven him off towards the hospital.
Her knees buckled; she sat right down on the grass.
“Now look what youve doneone gone, and my Peter will be locked up now! Peters mother glared, weeping.
No, no Edith whispered, and went home.
Mother found her collapsed on the bed. What have you done? How could you? What now?!
She rushed outside, leaving Edith alone.
Edith barely thought. She packed her things in a small bag, took what few pounds she had, and walked to the bus stop. Within the hour, she was bound for the city.
When Edith returned to Mrs. Andrews cottage on the village edge, night was falling and snow had just begun.
My legs have been achingalways happens before the weather breaks, said the old woman, sitting on the bench to take off her boots.
Let me help, said Edith, though stooping hurt.
No, lassdont fuss or Ill get lazy. Got to keep moving. How far along are you?
Im due in February.
Soon, then Is it James child? she asked, searching Edith’s face.
Yes, Edith replied, meeting her gaze.
Are you sure?
I am.
Very well, then. Ill make up a bed for you now, and well sort things out in the morning.
The cottage was tiny, just two rooms, with a scent Edith rememberedJames had sometimes brought warm pasties made by his gran.
Sleep evaded her until a ginger tom leapt onto her bed, stretched beside her bump, and purred her to sleep.
Edith awoke to the smell of fresh dough.
“Sweet or cabbage pasties this morning?”
“Sweet, please,” Edith answered, rubbing her belly.
“James never mentioned what your name wasjust ‘Gran’.”
“Im Mary, dear. Gran Mary,” she laughed from the kitchen. “My! Youll be due quite soon, Id saya week left, by the look.”
“How? Four weeks yet.”
“Oh, the wee ones in a hurryshell not wait.”
“Why do you think its a girl?”
“My heart tells me…”
A week later, as Mary had predicted, Edith went into labour. By midday, a baby girl was born.
“Thank you, Edith,” said Mrs. Andrews, smiling as she cradled the newborn.
“For what?” asked Edith, new-mother anxiety trembling in her voice.
“For telling the truth. This little girls Jamesthat toe on her left foot, Id know it anywhere. I held him just so, once upon a time. James will be glad, too.”
“But whowhere”
“Who? James, of course.”
“What do you mean?” Edith sat up in astonishment.
“I mean hes alive. Ill tell him tomorrow.”
“Hes alive? Truly?” Edith sobbed uncontrollably.
“Didnt you know? Oh, my girl, hes aliveweak, but alive,” Mrs. Andrews held her close.
“I must see him, Gran Mary. I cant rest knowing hes here. Is he in the village?”
“In the village, at homerest now, for your daughter’s sake. She needs you calm or your milk may dry. Later, youll see him. He wont run offhes waiting for you,” she smiled.
Edith could not stop her tears.
Soon after, she arrived with her baby at Mrs. Andrews. James’ father soon returned.
“Look hereKatherine Jameson! Has a ring to it, doesnt it?”
James’ father would not meet her eye, but he smiled at his granddaughter.
“Youve named her after James?” he asked.
“Of course. Just look at her toe,” Mary said, prideful, showing him the tiny left foot.
“Thank you, Edith. Thank you for this granddaughter. I havent told James yet. Shall we go?”
“Yes. Im ready.”
“And Edith, your parents heard youd given birth here, wanted to know when they could visit,” Mary added.
“Not now. Plenty of time for them later.”
At the Andersons door, Edith paused several times.
James’ father led the way, carrying the baby and nodding towards the bedroom.
Edith shuffled in, legs trembling. There was James, lying by the window, fiddling absentmindedly with a book.
“James,” she said, arms outstretched.
He smiled softly, arms open, and she collapsed gratefully by his side, tears streaming.
“Well, now, Daddy, heres your daughter.”
“What? Who?”
“Yours,” his father said proudly. “Do you like Katherine Jameson?”
Mary and James father slipped out, leaving the young family alone at last.
I never knew you survived, James No one told me. But now that Im here, Im not going anywhere.
Stay, he whispered. Im so happy. I have you, and our daughter, right here.
And so, with the snow falling gently outside, Edith finally found her peace in the warmth of love, family, and belonging she had thought lost forever.
