A Parent’s Heart: A Story Thank you so much for your support, for your likes, your engagement and comments on my stories, for following me, and a HUGE thank you from me and my five furry cats for your donations! Please do share any stories you enjoy on social media—it means the world to the author! “Why so glum this morning? Not even a hint of a smile—come on, let’s have breakfast.” Her husband strolled sleepily into the kitchen on their much-needed Saturday morning off. The sizzle of bacon and eggs filled the air, his wife poured out the tea. She plopped most of the eggs onto his plate along with a slice of bread. “Eat up, use your fork.” “Did I do something wrong, Natalie?” Arkady asked gently. “We did, both of us,” Natalie sighed, sitting down and picking at her breakfast, “We didn’t raise our kids right.” “Our daughter and son grew up—we denied ourselves so much while bringing them up. Times were tough, but we supported them all the way. Now who supports us, even just with a few kind words? All they have are problems—bored with life or skint, always the same with both Sarah and Jamie.” “That’s not fair—how do you know?” Arkady had already finished his eggs and happily spread butter and jam on fresh bread. “It’s easy for you—they tell me, their mother. Yesterday Jamie wanted to take his family bowling, asked me to loan him some money. I refused and he got in a strop. Sarah had just phoned before that, totally fed up with her singing career. She wants to earn her living from singing but it just isn’t working out. Sure, singing’s nice, but you need a real job, too! And those two—used to be thick as thieves, now they barely even speak.” Natalie set aside her barely-touched breakfast and took a sip of tea. “Don’t worry, love, things will work out,” Arkady tried to reassure her, but she only grew more agitated. “Oh, you call that advice, Archie? It’s you who should remember. We lived within our means—grateful for everything! When Jamie was born, such happiness. The pram and cot, all passed down from my friend and my sister. Second-hand, but the kids grow so fast. And we were happy! When we bought our old Ford Fiesta we thought we were lords of the manor! Our two? Unless they’ve been abroad, they reckon their lives are a failure—did we teach them that?” “Times are different, Nat, so many temptations—give them time, they’ll understand.” “I just hope it’s not too late, they’ll waste their lives chasing wealth and miss what really matters. It’s strange, looking in the mirror—have I really become a grandma? And you’re a granddad…” A phone call interrupted their talk—it was Jamie’s neighbour from the hospital. “Here we go again,” Natalie answered, and her expression changed with every word. “Arkady, get dressed quickly, Jamie’s been admitted to hospital—he’s hurt his hand badly with a power tool, they’re trying to save it, let’s hope it isn’t as bad as it sounds. Let’s go!” They rushed out, not young, but not old, with worry in their eyes. As they hurried, Sarah rang. “Mum, can I pop round at lunchtime?” “Of course, love, we’ll hopefully be back by then,” Natalie shouted, breathless, as she ran after Arkady. At the hospital, they were reassured—Jamie’s hand could be saved, but they couldn’t see him yet. “I’ll wait right here until we can, I’m not leaving,” Natalie declared, taking a seat, Arkady by her side. Just then, Sarah dashed into the hospital and threw her arms around them. “Mum, why do you look so worried? He’s alright! He just had a mishap fixing someone’s car yesterday, sliced his hand, but they stitched him up—he’s awake and moving his fingers, honestly! Mum, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, it was bad but he’s OK!” “How did you know?” Natalie managed to ask. “Jamie and I always text, and I keep in touch with his wife, too. We do try to help each other, what’s wrong with that?” “We thought you barely spoke anymore—why didn’t you ever say so?” Arkady explained. “Dad, you two are so strong and sorted, you never ask for help—that’s why we try not to worry you. And you both look so young for your age! We keep a little distance so you can enjoy some time for yourselves.” “Well I never, I was sure you didn’t care about us anymore,” Natalie smiled in relief. “Oh mum, your generation is made of such tough stuff—honestly, we try so hard to be like you, but it’s not always easy. But we do try, we really do!” Their anxious expressions softened, replaced by warm smiles. “Mum, Dad, I wanted to tell you—I got a new job! And I’m still singing at all sorts of events. The other day I sang at a care home, and they clapped so much! One lady even wept—her daughter’s a famous singer but is always on tour, so she’s left her mother behind. Can you believe it?” Then, impulsively, Sarah wrapped her parents in a hug. “And Jamie and I love you both so much, don’t ever doubt it.” Just then, the nurse let them see Jamie for a moment. Natalie nearly wept, but Jamie was calm: “Mum, relax, the worst is over. Dad, remember when you were stung by all those wasps and nearly ended up in hospital? Life’s full of close shaves. When I’m out, come round for New Year—we never get together long enough these days! Sarah wants to introduce you to her boyfriend too, I haven’t told you that yet…” Natalie and Arkady walked home, taking their time. Not so young, but not so old—parents all the same. Ah, that parent’s heart—it’s always wrapped up in their children’s lives. It always seems like other people’s kids are just kids, and all you want is for yours to be the best they can, to live the right way, to follow their parents’ advice. But they have their own path, whatever it may be… And our children—well, they’re always ours, and always good, whatever happens.

Author Harlan CovingtonReading 8 minViews 1

A Parents Heart

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Whats got you in such a glum mood this morning? You havent even cracked a smile! Come on, lets have breakfast.

Simon sauntered into the kitchen, yawning like a contented spaniel. At last, a Saturday with no clock-watching.

On the hob, the bacon and eggs sizzled their familiar morning greeting, while his wife poured out the tea. She plonked a mountain of eggs on his plate and tossed over a couple of slices of toast. Eat upuse your fork this time, Simon!

Hang on, what have I done now, Margaret? Simon asked, trying for gentle diplomacy.

Oh, its not just you, its both of uswe clearly bungled the business of raising our children, Margaret sighed, poking her breakfast with the enthusiasm of a toddler faced with broccoli.

Our Emily and Oliver are grown. We went without, skimped and saved to bring them up. Those were hardly easy days. We supported them every step of the wayso whos supporting us now, even with just a kind word? All we hear from them is complaints. Lifes boring, were skint. Emily, Oliverwhinge, whinge, whinge!

Thats not fair. Wheres this coming from?

By now Simon was scraping up the last of the eggs, contentedly buttering his fresh toast and slathering a ridiculously generous dollop of strawberry jam on top.

Easy for you to saythey tell me everything, of course. Their mum. Oliver rang yesterdaywanted a spot of cash until payday so his family could go bowling, but I was annoyed and said no. He got all huffy. Emily rang earlierher singing careers stalled again, and shes in one of her moods. I mean, its all very well singing for pleasure, but you still need a proper job! She wants to make her fortune on it, but lets be honest, not everyone gets to be Adele! She ought to realise that by now, get something steady. And they barely speak to each otherhow did that happen? They were thick as thieves as kids!

Margaret nudged aside her now-cold eggs and took a fortifying gulp of tea.

Oh, come on, dont get so down about it. Things will work out. Remember, we were just as young and daft once upon a time, Simon tried to comfort her, which only seemed to wind her up further.

Oh, speak for yourself, Simon! We were sensible! When Oliver was bornpure happiness. My friend lent us the pram, and my sister brought over hand-me-down babygros, muslins, anything she could spare from her oldest. All of it used, but spotlessbabies grow so quickly! We were so content. And when we finally got that old Ford Escortblimey, we felt like millionaires! Parked it right outside and strutted around like the upper crust. But our lotits all trips abroad or bust. If they havent been off to Thailand or the Canaries, they think lifes a dead loss! Is that what we taught them?

Its the world these days, Margaret. So many temptations, and theyre young. Give them timetheyll get it.

Only, what if its too late? Chasing money all the time, and life just whizzes by. I look in the mirrorhow can I possibly be someones nan? And youre a grandadimagine!

Right on cue, the phone rangOlivers number.

There, you see? Here we go again! Margaret picked up, and as she listened, her eyes went wide. She shot up from her chair.

Simon, get your coat on. Olivers in hospitalhis mate from the ward just called.

What on earth happened? Simon leapt up, panic brushing the sleep from his face.

Not exactly suresomething about an angle grinder, disc snapped, sliced his hand. Theyre trying to save his wrist, but what a mess I just hope hell be all right. Come on, lets go!

They both bundled themselves out of the house, not so young but certainly not ancient, faces etched with worry.

They half-jogged, half-speed-walked straight to the hospitalforgetting everything else.

En route, Emily called, Mum, Ill pop in around lunchtime, all right?

Yes, love, thats finehopefully well be back by then, Margaret panted, barely listening for an answer as she chased after Simon towards the bus stop.

At the hospital, the staff calmed them immediately: Olivers hand had been saved, but they werent allowed in to see him yet.

Im not budgingwont leave until you let us in, Margaret plonked herself down in the waiting area, Simon dropping beside her.

Suddenly, Emily dashed in, spotted her parents, and flung herself at them.

Mum, Dad, why are you looking so grim? Honestly, its all right. Oliver was doing a bit of cash-in-hand work yesterday, fixing someones car. Something stuck, he was cutting bolts, the disc snapped, nicked him. They stitched him up, fingers moving and allhell mend. Mum, you look like youre going to faint! Its sorted.

How do you know all this? Margaret finally managed.

Oliver and I are always texting, and I chat to his wife Laura too. We help each other out, you know?

Simon frowned. We thought you didnt speak at all. Why didnt you mention it?

Dad, you two are just sowellstoic. You power through everything, so we try not to bother you with our woes, Emily smiled wryly, Plus, you both look young as ever! We just keep out the way, hoping you finally get to enjoy life for yourselves.

Oh, is that the story? I was starting to think you lot barely cared whether we existed anymore! Margaret gave a wobbly chuckle.

Of course we care! You two are some sort of super-humans, honestly. We try to live up to it, but its not easy. We really do our best, promise.

Their parents couldnt help grinning, the lines of worry easing a little.

Mum, Dad, I was about to tell youI landed a job! And the singings taken off a bitI get booked here and there. Was in a nursery last week, then at a care home yesterday. They clapped so much I nearly cried. This one lady sobbedher daughters a famous singer, always on tour, so shes shunted her mum off to the care home. Heartbreaking, honestly!

Emily gave her parents an impulsive hug, And we both love you madlynever doubt it.

Right then, a nurse beckoned them in for a quick visit with Oliver. Margaret nearly burst into tears, but Oliver gave her a lopsided grin.

Mum, please, all the dramas over. Im fine, dont worry. Dad, remember when you told me about that wasp nest in the garage, the one where you got stung half to death and had a hospital stay? Stuff happens. When Im out, come round for New Years, will you? All this rushing about and hardly any chance to see you. Emily wants to introduce her chap to everyonedidnt get the chance to mention it yet.

Margaret and Simon decided to walk home afterwards for some fresh air.

Not as young as they once were, but certainly not old, these two.

Ah, the parents heartits always aching, always worrying, convinced other peoples children are so much more together. How you wish your own could outshine the rest, follow the rules, always ring home.

But, as it turns outthey have their own path to tread, potholes and all. And whatever happensthey will always be our good children. After all, how could they not be? Theyre ours.

I’ll Get Married, But Definitely Not to This Handsome Guy – Yes, He’s Wonderful in Every Way, But He’s Just Not for Me “Again Mum’s come home with her boyfriend—and some other bloke. Already drunk,” Irina squeezed herself into the corner behind the cabinet. “Nowhere to hide, and it’s snowing outside. I’m so sick of this. In summer I’ll finish my GCSEs and move to town. I’ll get into a teacher’s college and become a teacher. It’s only six miles to the city, but I’ll live in student housing.” Mum and the guests settled in the kitchen. There was the glug of liquid being poured into a glass, the smell of sausage. Irina swallowed. “Wait a minute, you!” Mum’s voice rang out. “Why are you playing hard to get?” “There’s two of you…” “Not their first time in a group,” came Mikhail, Mum’s boyfriend. There was a crash of falling dishes. Scraping, panting. Irina pressed herself further into the corner. The noise suddenly died down. “Listen, Nikita, she’s asleep,” Mum’s boyfriend called out. “You said she’s a good girl, but I’ve got a thing for her…” “Listen, she’s got a daughter…” “What daughter?” “Ira, she’s grown up. Probably hiding in her room.” “Go get her,” Nikita said gleefully. “Ira, where are you?” Mum’s boyfriend entered the room, spotted Irina, and grinned. “Come on, sit with us!” “I’m fine here.” “Don’t be shy.” Mikhail tried to hug her. Irina grabbed a vase from the cabinet and brought it down on Mum’s boyfriend’s head. There was the crash of glass. Irina broke free and ran out of the room. “Get her!” Mikhail shouted. But Irina was already at the front door. No time to grab shoes, so she sprinted into the snow in just socks, old shorts, and a t-shirt. The men chased after her. The village street was empty. Where do you run at night in the snow? She heard shouts behind her. At the huge house she passed, a dog barked—a man’s voice shouted at the dog. Irina rushed to the gate and knocked. A man in his forties opened the door. “Please help me,” she said softly, making eyes at him. “Come in!” He tugged her inside and shut the door. “Oleg, who is it?” A woman stepped onto the porch. “Here,” Oleg nodded towards Irina. “She’s being chased by some blokes.” “Quick, get inside!” The woman grabbed Irina’s hand. “You can tell us everything.” “Ira, come out and don’t cause trouble!” Mikhail’s voice rang out. “Oleg, don’t get involved!” the woman shouted. “Get in here!” The shouts from the street, barking from the yard. “We need to call the police,” the woman pulled out her phone. “Polina, don’t. I’ll handle it myself. They’re locals.” “How do you plan on handling them?” “Nicely. Calm the girl down!” Oleg grabbed a carrier bag, went to the fridge, and dropped in a bottle and a chunk of sausage. Out in the yard, he patted the dog and they stepped into the street. Mikhail ran toward him. “Hand over Ira!” “Here, have these and go home.” The men opened the bag, smiled at the bottle and sausage, nodded, and left. *** “Alright. I’m Polina Sergeievna,” the woman said, putting the kettle on. “Come sit, tell us who you are and what happened.” “I’m Irina,” she started, teeth chattering. “I live on this street, at the end.” “You’re Kira’s daughter?” “Yes.” “We haven’t lived here long, but we’ve heard about your mum.” Irina lowered her head and sobbed. “There, there—don’t cry!” the woman said, pressing Irina to her chest. Irina clung to her, sobbing harder. “Alright, alright! Let’s have some tea.” The man returned. “All sorted.” “What do we do about this pretty girl?” Polina smiled at Irina. “Let’s talk tomorrow! Tea first, and she needs a bath.” “Hungry?” Polina set a mug before Irina, smiling. “I can see you are.” Sandwiches and leftover cake appeared on the table. “Eat, eat!” Oleg smiled too as Irina looked longingly at the food. They didn’t question Irina further, trying not to make her uncomfortable. After dinner, Polina led Irina to the bathroom. “Wash up, put this dressing gown on!” *** All Irina wanted was not to be thrown out into the street tonight. How lovely the warm bath felt, compared to the freezing outside. But she knew she had to get out—the hosts were waiting. She emerged. The couple sat together on the sofa. She smiled apologetically. “Thank you!” “Listen, Irina,” Polina began. “From what I see, no one’s coming to look for you. You don’t want to go home.” Irina lowered her eyes. “Tomorrow morning, we have to drive out early…” “I understand,” Irina bowed lower. “You’ll be alone. Don’t open to anyone! Our Jack won’t let anyone in the yard. Got it?” “Yes!” Irina said, unable to hide her emotion. “You can make borscht while we’re gone,” Oleg smiled slyly. “Can you?” “I can,” Irina said quickly, still afraid she’d be tossed out. “I’m good at cooking. And I can clean too.” “Clean downstairs if you like,” Polina agreed. *** She woke with the hosts in the morning, lying still in bed, always worrying she’d be kicked out. The car made noise in the yard, then it went quiet. She got up, washed, found hot tea, bread, sausage, cheese, and pork ribs waiting. She ate, cleaned the table, wiped everything down, scrubbed the floors. In the hallway she spotted a vacuum, turned it on, and started cleaning. Just as she turned it off… “And what’s all this about?” came a voice behind her. She spun around. A tall, handsome boy of about eighteen, curiosity gleaming in his brown eyes. “I’m cleaning,” Irina mumbled. “Who are you?” “Well…” The boy shook his head, pulled out his phone. “Mum, I’m home. Who’s this?” “Son, let this girl stay for a while.” “Fine by me.” He put the phone away, eyed Irina up and down, and headed to the kitchen. “Would you like tea?” she asked. “I’ll sort myself out.” *** Irina put away the vacuum, started dusting, listening for every noise from the kitchen. The boy ate, went to the bathroom. Emerged freshly shaved, smelling of aftershave. “Oi, mate, give us another bottle!” yelled someone outside. “What’s this?” The boy went to the window. “Don’t open for them!” Irina cried in panic. He looked at her with interest, then smiled for some reason, heading for the door. Irina darted to the window—by the fence stood Mum’s boyfriend with his mate, shouting. She was scared. The son stepped out. The men rushed him—and suddenly landed face-first in the snow, both at once. The boy bent over them, said something, and they slunk off toward Mum’s house. *** The boy returned, watched Irina freeze in fear. Approached: “What, you scared?” Unthinking, Irina buried her face in his chest and cried. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Irina.” “I’m Ruslan. Don’t worry. They won’t come back.” *** Ruslan headed upstairs to his room and stayed there till evening. Irina made borscht, sat at the kitchen table, deep in thought. She longed to stay in this house with these kind people, but knew she’d crossed every line of propriety. The hosts returned. Polina Sergeievna looked around at the spotless kitchen in amazement. Oleg Romanovich smiled approvingly at the borscht. “I’d best go home,” Irina said with resignation. “Thank you for everything!” “Irina, stay a few more days!” “Thank you, Polina Sergeievna! I’ll go home,” Irina repeated, heading for the door and pausing. Ever since yesterday, she’d worn a borrowed dressing gown and slippers. “Come on!” Polina guided her to the lounge. Opened the wardrobe, rummaged through clothes, brought out jeans, a jumper, a warm sports jacket. “Put these on! We’re nearly the same size.” “You really don’t…” “Can’t have you going home half-dressed! Just put them on. I won’t miss them.” She did. Sneaked a look in the mirror—she’d never had such nice clothes before. At the door, Polina made her put on a wool hat and boots. “Irina, wear them in good health!” “Thank you so much, Polina Sergeievna!” *** Life returned to its old routine. Not quite the old routine. Mum found work at a farm. Her boyfriend vanished, taking his mate with him. Spring arrived. One day, Irina was at home doing her homework when someone knocked at the gate. She peeked out the window and couldn’t believe her eyes—it was Ruslan. He nodded—come out. She didn’t just come out—she flew. “Hi!” Ruslan smiled. “Hello!” “Mum wanted to invite you over.” *** Soon she was back at the house where she’d spent such a happy day. “Hello, Irina!” Polina greeted her at the door with a hug. “Hello, Polina Sergeievna!” “Come in! Let’s have some tea.” As they sat, Polina got serious. “I’ve got a favour to ask. My husband and I are off to Turkey for a month,” she smiled. “My son’s barely at home. Would you look after the house? Feed Jack and the cat, water the flowers. I’ve got loads of plants.” “Of course, Polina Sergeievna!” “Excellent.” She brought some money. “Here’s two hundred quid.” “Polina Sergeievna, you shouldn’t…” “Take it! We won’t miss it. Now come, I’ll show you everything!” Irina carefully memorised the locations of plant pots, cat food, meat for the dog. Then Polina called out, “Ruslan!” He appeared from his room. “Introduce Irina to Jack!” “Come on,” Ruslan gently laid a hand on Irina’s shoulder. They went out, unleashed Jack, and went for a walk. Ruslan chatted about uni, karate, his dad’s business. Irina’s thoughts were elsewhere. She felt there was a gulf between her and Ruslan—a gulf like the one between her mum and Ruslan’s parents. Yes, they were kind, good people, but this wasn’t a Cinderella story—this was life. “In two months I’ll take my college entrance exams, and I’ll pass. I’ll study, work, hustle, but I’ll make something of myself. I’ll get married, but definitely not to this handsome guy. Yes, he’s wonderful in every way. But he’s just not for me! I’m grateful to Polina Sergeievna for the clothes and the £200. At least I’ll manage when I first move to the city.” With a sort of sixth sense, the girl knew that at this very moment, her difficult childhood had come to an end. And adult life was beginning—not any easier, but where everything depended on her alone. They reached the house. Irina stroked Jack’s neck, smiled at Ruslan, and headed home. Tomorrow her job at the house would begin. Just the job—nothing more!