She buried her husband, stood her ground alone, rebuilt the farm and then the neighbour started spreading tales.
Text messages and emails
And now, Mary, I turned to her say it in front of everyone, why did you slander me? What harm have I ever done to you? Why treat me like this? What I heard in reply changed everything.
She buried her husband, stood her ground alone, rebuilt the farm and then the neighbour started wagging her tongue.
Just one rumour. Only a single one. And suddenly the shopkeeper gives me a pitying look, the nurse squeezes my hand: Keep your chin up. Everyone around seems to know something, while I stand there clueless as to whats gone on.
Alice could have kept quiet. But she went and stood before the whole village and asked directly:
What have I ever done to deserve this?
The answer turned her world upside down.
***
That morning the earth smelled sharp and uneasy, as if something big was about to happen disaster or great change, who could say.
I was up before dawn. The cows wont wait for anyone makes no odds to them if your heart feels like lead or youre in a merry mood. The milk comes when it wants, and youd better be ready, or else.
Dew still coated the grass like silver beads, and I thought to myself how the ground is washed clean every morning, starting afresh as if yesterday never happened. People arent so lucky. We drag all our old worries behind us, like a horse pulling a heavily loaded cart. Would be nice if it was all good things, but no more often its hurtful words, old grievances, sideways glances, things kept unforgiven.
Its my fourth year here alone in Willowbrook, if you dont count the animals.
My husband, John, died suddenly heart attack took him in the field while he was turning hay. Found him late, as the sun was setting. His face looked so peaceful, as if hed just dozed off after a long day.
Maybe it was a kindness he didnt suffer or see life slip away bit by bit.
After John, I faced the farm by myself twenty milking cows, calves, and all the rest. Plenty of people told me, Just sell up, Alice go live with your daughter in the city. Why waste away here? But I couldnt.
Not just out of stubbornness, though theres some of that. Its more that Johns here in every beam, every fence post, every furrow in the veg patch. Our lifes here. After all those years, how could I walk away? So I keep at it.
Im up by four, bed by ten, back aching, hands numb with cold water by autumn, but still I go on. Every calf, every bucketful, every sunrise over our little river brings a moment of joy.
As for Mary, my neighbour, well, I didnt want to think of her.
She lived three doors down, old, widowed long ago, raising her son Tom. Hes grown now over thirty, but still called Marys Tom around the village.
A good lad, hard worker, just unlucky, somehow. Married once, but his wife lasted two years before moving to London; said shed go mad in the sticks. He let her go.
Truth is, Mary couldnt live without gossip.
Shed chew the fat about every soul in the village and only feel content then, necessary, important even. I used to ignore her, too busy to care. But something changed last month.
It started small. One day I popped into the village shop for bread, and Nancy the shopkeeper gave me the oddest look, sort of pitying, as if I had one foot in the grave.
I asked her,
Nancy, whats up with that look?
She fiddled about, looked away.
Oh, nothing, Alice, really.
Next time the district nurse, Janet, gripped my hand and said:
Stay strong, Alice. Were all behind you.
I was baffled what for? What have I done?
Turns out Mary had been telling the village that I was watering down my milk, mixing in chalk and goodness knows what else, all to fudge the cream content.
And that my farmhouse cheese, the one I cart into town for sale, was in fact out of date and I just relabel it.
I thought, well, people will talk, thats nothing new. But this! This was more than idle gossip it was a sucker punch to everything Id worked for, could wreck my reputation in a single blow.
All week I wandered about in a daze, couldnt sleep, couldnt stop thinking why, Mary? What did I ever do to her? Wed never quarrelled, only ever exchanged pleasantries.
Shed been at Johns funeral, offering tears and condolences.
Then I got angry. Real, solid anger that makes you strong. Got up one morning and thought, No more! Im not letting myself be trampled into the mud. Not after everything Ive poured into this place.
That Saturday, the village met in the hall to discuss the road into town. About fifty turned up nearly everyone. Mary was right there in the front, lips pursed, looking pleased with herself.
Once theyd finished about the road, I stood up. My knees shook, my voice was hoarse with nerves, but I stood anyway.
Good people, I said, and everyone turned my way Good people, let me have a word.
The parish chairman, Mr. Jackson, nodded at me to go on. At first I was all over the place, but then words started flowing. I shared what Id heard about myself these past weeks.
These rumours are a pack of lies from start to finish! My milks checked every week here are the lab reports if you want them.
The shop takes my cheese, three stores in fact, and not once has anyone complained!
And now, Mary, tell us all, why did you spread such things about me? What wrong have I ever done to you? Why treat me like this?
She sat there, her face changing first rosy, then white, then blotchy red and grey.
Well I just repeated what I heard she mumbled.
Who from? Name someone! I insisted.
There was a hush in the hall you could hear a fly at the window. All eyes were on Mary, and their looks had weight.
Well just things people said, you know
She was completely thrown but suddenly shrieked out:
Why all looking at me? Is it my fault her husbands gone and now shes got a fancy man?
Now it was my turn to freeze.
What fancy man? What are you on about? Ive lived alone these years.
Its your Tom, isnt it? came a voice from the back.
That was old Mrs. Stevens, who knows everyones business.
Tom helps her with the farm. Thats what passes for a fancy man, is it?
Tom himself stood up then. Hed been in the corner tall, broad, his face gone scarlet, fists balled.
Mum, he said roughly Mum, what have you done?
Mary stretched her arms out to him. Tom, love, I did it for you, only wanted the best, shes just got you wrapped round her little finger, that woman
Enough! he boomed, so loud everyone flinched. Enough, do you hear? Do you know what youve done? Youve slandered a good woman! She works herself ragged, runs that farm single-handed, and you drag her through the dirt!
He looked at me then, and I saw something new in his eyes, something I couldnt place.
Miss Alice, he said quietly Miss Alice, forgive her. She didnt mean real harm. Just a womans jealousy, foolishness. Shes scared Ill leave her come to you. And I
He faltered, rubbed a hand over his face.
The truth is, I have loved you. For years. Since you and John first moved here, God rest him. I was just a boy you were, what, twenty-five? I was fourteen.
I used to look at you and think, if only I had a wife like that. Then I married Lucy, because you were already married. Thought it would pass. It didnt. Lucy could tell, thats likely why she left.
The room went absolutely quiet. Mary shrank in her seat, her face grey and suddenly older by ten years.
And when John was gone, I started helping you. Not out of pity though maybe a bit. Because I cant stay away. With you I feel right, like Im where I belong.
He stopped, and I didn’t know what to say. My head was empty, blood pounding in my ears, and for some reason my eyes stung.
Tom, Im eleven years older than you.
I know, he replied simply. So?
And what? Mrs. Stevens piped up. My Syd was eight years younger than me; forty-three years we had, happier than most. Whats a few years? Its character that counts.
Everyone started muttering, some laughing, some shaking heads, a few clapped Tom on the back. Mary sat still, looking battered, and no one went near her, no one met her eye.
I suddenly felt sorry for her.
Not immediately, not the first instant, but it crept up on me. I could see shed done all of this out of fear, out of lonely desperation, afraid to lose her only son, her one lifeline.
It was foolish, wrong, but not out of real malice. Just a darkness in the heart, from not knowing how to love gently, without strangleholds or chains.
I went to her, crouched beside her chair.
Mary, I said softly dont be afraid. No ones taking your son. He loves you, youre his mum. Just
Just dont do this again, please. Dont tell lies about people. Its wrong. Like poisoning the earth sow a lie, reap misery.
She looked up, her eyes red and wet and miserable.
Forgive me, Alice, she whispered. I am an old fool.
I nodded. Forgiven, or not who knows yet? Time will tell, when the wound heals, or doesnt.
Tom and I left together. He walked beside me, silent. The sun was setting, the sky shell pink like rose petals.
Tom, I said did you really mean what you said?
I did. Id not have said it in front of everyone, otherwise.
I stopped and looked at him. He really is a good man. Solid, warm like a fire on a cold night.
Well then, I said lets get on. The cows wont wait. Give us a hand?
He grinned, broad and bright, like a schoolboy.
Course I will.
And off we went. The ground underfoot smelled sharp, bitter with new grass and wild wormwood. But in that bitterness there was sweetness too, the sweetness of hope, I suppose.
Or just of life, carrying on regardless, stronger than any lie, any harsh words, any gloom people bring.
Tom took my hand. His was big, rough from work, warm. And I didnt let go, only squeezed tighter. Maybe just maybe this is fate
What would you say? Let me know your thoughts.
