The woman gave her newborn grandson to strangers. Heres what came of it.
The housejust like in his dreams, and the woman, so eerily familiar, the one who now stood before him Those were the dreams hed had as a sick little boy, crying in the night. Because the woman had no faceonly eyes that glowed like embers. She terrified him, a ghostly figure. Back then, hed weep and call for his mother. Shed lie beside him, make the sign of the cross, and hold him close to her heart
Life went on.
The carollers had long stopped coming to her door. Children nowadays ran to houses where theyd get a pound coin instead of a stale biscuit. Marthas homemade gin wasnt exactly top-shelf eitherjust something brewed in the back shed. Only Fred, the neighbour, ever dropped byusually when hed had one too many and could barely stand.
Sing you merry, happy and bright, for the new years delight pour us a drink, Martha love! hed slur, grinning.
Shed pour one for him, then take a sip herselfhelped her sleep. If only Fred could keep his mouth shut instead of poking at old wounds.
Aye, Martha love, this is how we end up Me and my old missuslike two rotten stumps in the woods! No one left to care. But youve got your girl, havent you?
Drink your gin and stop yapping like that mangy terrier of yours! Aye, Ive got a daughtersomewhere. So sod off before I lose my temper! she snapped.
Fred didnt move, even as she shoved at his shoulder.
I know why youre cross Everyone in the village knows. You gave your grandson away. Admit it! Go on! And you know what the old biddies say? That boy haunts your dreams! Thats why you keep your lamp burning at nightyoure scared! Arent you? Eh? He leered at her.
Listen here, you drunken fool! Get out! And dont you dare come back! Martha grabbed his grubby collar and dragged him to the door like a stray cat.
Youve lost the plot, woman! Let go! he wheezed, struggling.
Never again! You hear me? Never! she shouted after him.
He only laughed. True to her word, he never returnednot for a drink, not for a chat. Maybe shame kept him away. Or fear. She mightve forgiven him if hed come carolling again. After all, as folk say, its the season for it. No one else had heard what hed said but hed spoken the truth. And truth cuts deepest.
She did dream of a boy. Never his facejust those glowing eyes. Hed stand at the threshold, asking to sing for her but never stepped inside. Shed had this dream countless times. Or maybe it wasnt a dream at all.
* * *
The sun climbed high, and Martha knew Fred wouldnt come this year. She remembered last years quarrel the greasy feel of his jacket under her fingers. She poured herself a drink. Christmas, after all.
Outside, the terrier yapped frantically, and the porch door creaked. Someone was here.
Seasons greetings! May I sing for you? A handsome young man stood on the step.
Martha bolted up, stiff as a soldier. Sing, if youve come to.
For health, for happiness He scattered a handful of grain.
She didnt take her eyes off him. Noticed how his gaze darted around the room. Her heart clenchedwas he here to rob her? If only Fred were here
Did you want something? Or just to sing? she asked warily.
Tradition says carollers ought to be welcomed in. But Ive brought my own. He stepped forward, pulling wine, sausage, and cakes from his bag.
Stunned, Martha pulled a cast-iron pot of roast potatoes and bacon from the oven and sat opposite the stranger, whod laid the table as if he owned the place.
*Must be one of Lucys lads. But too young. Why would she send him?*
Her guest poured wine into glasses. She fumbled for words.
Youre not from here. Looking for someone?
I am. Are you Martha Jones?
Thats me.
Your late husband was Peter Jones?
Aye, God rest him.
And your daughter, Lucy Peters? Though I know nothing of her now.
Aye
Well, if thats so, then Im your grandson. Victor. He reached across the table. Pleased to meet you.
The room spun. The boy from her dreamsstanding before her now, grown. Those same glowing eyes.
Martha gasped, swayedstrong hands caught her, guiding her back to the bench.
Dont be afraid. Im not here to blame you. Just wanted to see you. This house. The place that turned me away. His voice was steady. My real mother died recently. Before she went, she told me everything. So I came. To see.
Martha sobbed, the words spilling out for the first time in her life. Victor listened, never looking away. When she finished, he stood, sighed, glanced around the room.
God be with you, he said at the door. Hell judge you. Not me.
By the time she stumbled outside, his car was already vanishing down the lane. She hadnt even asked where he lived.
* * *
Lucy had been an obedient girl.
Youll be a teacher! her father decided. No marrying till youve a degree!
She hadnt mindedthough her parents already had a groom picked out.
Youre a pretty thing, her mother said. Dont waste yourself on village lads. Andrews the onearmy man, good pay, a flat in the city! By the time you finish school, hell be settled.
Andrew filled her thoughts. Older, handsome. When he came home on leave, girls flocked to himbut he only had eyes for Lucy.
Wait three years for me, hed said, walking her home. Its not long. Well write. Then well marry.
Shed promised.
But being a sweetheart wasnt easy. Her mothers lessons weighed on her.
If you must flirt, keep it quiet. Hold onto Andrewmen like him dont come twice.
Lucy told herself she wouldnt pine at the window. Life wasnt a film.
Then she met Will. Easy, uncomplicated. No promises. She was generous; he was passionate. Until she slippedtold him shed marry another. He hadnt asked for her hand, but the betrayal turned him vicious. He beat her badly.
She hid the bruises, stayed away from home. But mothers know. Martha rushed to her dorm, took one look, and understood. Lucy was pregnant.
Will begged forgiveness, offered marriage. Martha refused. Stay out of the village. Andrews family cant know.
Her husband acted fasttransferred Lucy to another university, another city. She didnt protest. Fear had taken root.
When the time came, Lucy fell ill. Her parents took her to a private clinic.
Meningitis, they told everyone. She might not survive.
She stayed there, alone, until the baby camea healthy boy.
Just as her mother taught, Lucy didnt hold him. Didnt look. The young doctora womantried to talk sense into her.
*Does Mum want me miserable?* Lucy thought. *What future would Will give me? A village drunk. Not like Andrew. Hell never know.*
She wrote to Andrew faithfully. His replies went to the villageproof of her engagement.
When he returned, they married in a grand affair. Martha glowed with pride.
But over the years, visits grew rare. Andrew grew cold.
He wants children, Lucy confessed once. But I cant. Not after complications.
Martha paled. He doesnt know why?
Hes not stupid. Hell make me confess. You dont know him!
Then Peter died suddenly. Lucy came alone.
Were divorced, she said flatly. Dont ask.
Andrew stormed in later, never crossing the threshold.
Youre not human, he spat. Even beasts care for their young. Damn you all.
Lucy drifted through lovers. Martha scolded. Eventually, she stopped visiting.
You ruined my life! she screamed once. Now Ill live as I please!
Now Martha had no way to reach her. No address to give Victor.
* * *
Victor felt lighter, as if stepping from a hot bath. Months of torment were over.
When his fathera surgeondied
