Lucy brought her fiancé to the village, but he laid down a condition…
In the twilight haze, Andrew spotted the old country bus weaving down the dusty lane between hedgerows thick with brambles. Abandoning his football, he sprinted barefoot towards the bus stop, his checked shirt flapping open, blond hair whipped into the air by the wind like dandelion seeds.
Mum, Mums home, was all that hammered in Andrews mind. But Lucy stepped from the bus with a stranger by her sidea broad-shouldered man in a pale-grey suit waving a briefcase like a sceptre, every inch the important boss. Andrew latched onto his mothers hand, scanning her face as if searching for secrets.
Hello, love, Lucy murmured, bending to plant a kiss on his crown.
Evening, lad! boomed the man, greeting Andrew with a hearty tousle of his hairhis hand so heavy that Andrew staggered, half-laughing, half-startled.
Come on through to the table, wont you? Andrews grandmother, Mrs. Edith Harper, called with proper English warmth, ushering them into the cottage.
Thank you, thank you, Mother, Sir Arthur Chapman replied, taking in the sight of a farmhouse table groaning with pies, roast pork, stews, and jellies.
Ah, the countrys true magic! Arthur declared, gesturing grandly. In the city, all rations and restrictions, but here folk still live off the fat of their own landfresh meat, you can taste the earth in it.
And clotted cream, our own, Edith chimed in, plus veg from the patch.
We keep up as long as we can, Andrews wiry, reticent grandfather, William Harper, chimed ina man whod threshed fields on his combine since before the war.
Arthur, eager to impress, patted his thinning hair and boasted, We do all right in the city, too. My sister sorts me out at the wholesaler, you know; brings Lucy treats from the best shops.
Andrew watched the stranger intently, wondering what reason he could invent to approach him. In the market town where he and his mother lived, Andrew would watch other boys fathers, imagining whichif anycould have resembled his own. He pictured zoo trips, football games, and tall tales about distant lands. Sometimes he imagined his father was like John Martins dad, or perhaps Adam Whites, though, in truth, he might look nothing like any of them.
Now glancing at the portly man with his mother, Andrew thought: If hes come to the village, perhaps hell be my dad.
He clutched his wooden aeroplane, lovingly carved and sanded by Granddad William. He edged toward Arthur, cheeks hot, and offered, Look at my plane, sir! and held out the toy.
Arthur grasped it, and with businesslike force, flicked the hand-carved propellerwhich promptly snapped off and bounced across the flagstones. Rather a flimsy thing, isnt it? Arthur remarked, thrusting the plane back to Andrew.
Andrew knelt to collect the whittled propeller, glancing up at Granddad.
Well fix it up, lad, Granddad said softly.
Lucy interjected, keen to shift the conversation: Arthurs our factorys chief mechanic, keeping all the lorries on the road.
Arthur puffed out his chest, giving Lucy a patronising smile. All true.
Thirty-year-old Lucy, a machinist at the textiles mill, was planning to marry for the first time grateful to have landed such a promising, older gentleman, with prospects and a shiny car. She angled plates closer to Arthur, tempting him with roast fish, jam tarts, and pancakes dipped in thick cream.
Out on the porch, Arthur stretched wide his arms and cried, Isnt this a marvel? Just breathe, feel the air!
Do you like it here, Arthur?
Love it!
Lets enjoy a rest before heading back to town tomorrow. Well take Andrew with us hell need a new school blazer before term starts.
Now, Lucy, Arthur said slyly, why drag the boy to town? Theres a school here, isnt there?
Well, its just a village primary
No matter! Let him finish this year here. Well have time to do up the house, get proper furniture you know youve only got old jumble.
Edith eyed her husband warily; William began twitching his moustache, a sure sign of displeasure.
But Arthur, sorting out a transfer from his school, bringing all his things Lucy faltered.
How hard can it be? Look at it here good air, plenty of milk, veg, berries. Hell thrive, and your folks can mind him. In town, well be busy, both working. A year here in the local school wont harm him while we get settled in. What do you say, Lucy? Fair?
William grumbled, Fair? Sounds more like a condition than a proposal.
The next day, Lucy explained to Andrew why she wasnt taking him with her. Andrew nodded along, silent as he listened. When Arthur and Lucy set off for the bus, Andrew vanished. Edith searched high and lowthe loft, Granddads shedbut no Andrew.
Wheres he gone? He was just hereand his bikes still there.
Arthur waved a hand. Hell turn up. Probably off playing with friends.
Lucy glanced anxiously down the yard and slipped through the gate. Andrew, crouched behind sacks in the coal shed, peered out through a crack, transfixed.
He wanted to run out, clutch his mothers hand, but frozesomehow he knew, with the arrival of the bald man, he had suddenly become surplus.
Andrew hugged the broken airplane, tears slipping unbidden down his cheeks. Ordinarily, he was not a boy for tearsnot even when Granddad thrashed him for untying the boat and attempting to paddle up the stream on his own.
He knew Granddad never smacked him unfairly. But now, while no one had laid a finger on him, Andrew wept and wiped his face with scratchy fists, desperate to scrub away the stinging wetness.
Youve turned up! Granny Edith declared with relief, after Lucy and Arthur had already departed. Never mind, pet; your mum promised to visit in a month, and well get you a smart blazer for school here. You do like it with Granddad and me, dont you?
Andrew bowed his head, blond fringe falling over his eyes. He thought of his city classmates, his friends on the pebble-dashed estate, and longed to return. Of course, there were friends here too, but it was always summer with Gran and Granddad, always a return to the city come autumn for proper school.
The week flew by in a tangle of games, laughter, and boyish scrapes; thoughts of his mother and the broken promise faded into the everyday.
One afternoon, as Edith juggled a pail of water through the side gate, she caught sight of Lucy standing outside, pale and weary. We werent expecting you, dear.
Lucy collapsed onto the old bench. Supposed to wait a month, but came after just two weeks. Im here for Andrew.
But we agreed hed stay. Has Arthur changed his mind?
No, Mum, its me. No more pretending someone else can tell me what to do with my own son. Arthurs been off courting that Simmy from accounts, bringing her treats from his sisters storeroom. Shes no children of her own, so its easier for him. He said if I wanted to be with him, I must leave Andrew here.
Granny Edith watched Lucy, sharing her daughters hope for happinessthough not the sort Arthur promised. Perhaps its for the best, love.
It is, Mum. Ill buy Andrew his kit and a smart satchel, walk him to his school for Year Two, and well go on as before. We managed, just him and me, and well manage again. I never needed Arthurs hampers. I just wanted a husband, and a father for Andrew.
Andrew appeared in the yard. Seeing Lucy, he froze, then bolted into her arms, forgetting every slight.
Mum!
My darling, I missed you so. And Ive come to fetch you home, in time for school.
Andrew gazed up, hardly daring to hope.
Well carry on as we did: youll study, and Ill help with homework, and Ill sign you up for the after-school cluband football practice, as you wished.
He stuffed more things into his little rucksack, hoping the extra weight would spare his mothers aching arms.
Enough, love, youll tire yourself.
I wont! Im strong!
Granddad and Granny walked Lucy and Andrew to the lane, where the coach glimmered in the dusk, headlights lighting up the hedges. Andrew pressed close to the window, waving his wooden airplanelovingly repaired by Granddaduntil his grandparents dwindled behind the turns.
His hand clutched the plane, his eyes flickering to Lucy. Andrew was going homehome where his mother would always be beside him. It felt lighter than air, and in this strange, gentle world, it was happiness that gleamed most clearly, a happiness to be held onto tightly as the road wandered away.
