Maggie Whitcombe, a widow of fortytwo, was condemned the very day a bulge showed through her coat. Her husband, Samuel, had been buried in the churchyard ten years earlier, and now she was the one dragging a heavy postbag across the lane, eyes fixed on the damp earth, lips pressed into a thin line. Had she known what would happen, perhaps she would have stayed home, but how could a mother turn away from the tears soaking her youngest childs cheeks?
It all began not with Maggie but with her elder daughter, Ethel. Ethel was no ordinary girl; she was a living portrait of her dead fathertall, blond, blueeyed, the villages first heartthrob. The whole hamlet stared at her. Her younger sister, Gwen, was darkhaired, browneyed, serious, and slipped by unnoticed.
Maggie loved both daughters with a fierce, cursed devotion. By day she was the village postwoman; by night she washed the farmyard. You girls must learn, she urged. I wont have you end up like me, stuck in the mud with a sack on your shoulder. You belong in town, among people.
Ethel took the words to heart. She slipped away to York like a bird released, enrolled at the College of Commerce, and soon became a headline: photographs of her in restaurants, in fashionable dresses, a suitor appearinga son of a senior manager. Mum, he promised me a coat! she wrote.
Maggie beamed, while Gwen frowned. Gwen stayed in the village after school, took a job as a hospital cleaner, dreaming of nursing but lacking the money. All the state widows pension and Maggies modest wage vanished into Ethels city life.
That summer Ethel returnednot in her usual flamboyant, giftladen manner, but quiet, greeneyed, and withdrawn. She stayed in her room for two days, then broke down in the night, sobbing into a pillow.
Mum Ive lost everything, she whispered. Her fiancé, the golden boy, had abandoned her after she discovered she was four months pregnant. Its too late for an abortion, Mum! He wont give me a penny if I keep the baby, and the college will throw me out. My life is over!
Maggie sat, stunned. Didnt you protect yourself? she asked. What now? Send him to an orphanage? Toss him into a cabbage field?
Ethels tears fell like hail. What difference does it make? Hell be a nobodys child, or a strangers!”
That night Maggie could not sleep. She drifted through the cottage like a shadow, and by dawn she sat beside Ethels bed.
Nothing, Maggie said firmly. Well get through this.
Mother! How? Everyone will know! Shame! Ethel wailed.
None will know, Maggie cut in. Lets say its mine.
Ethel stared. Yours? Mother, youre fortytwo!
Mine, Maggie repeated. Ill go to my sister in the district, claim Im helping, and live there. You return to York and finish your studies.
Gwen, sleeping behind the thin partition, heard everything. She clutched the pillow, tears streaming down her cheeks, feeling pity for her mother and disgust for her sister.
A month later Maggie left the village, which soon fell into silence. Six months later she returned, not alone but with a blue envelope and a boy in her arms.
Here, Gwen, she said to her pale daughter, meet your brother Mitty.
The village gasped. A quiet Maggie, a widowwho is he from? the women whispered.
Its not the parish councilor, they hissed. Its the agronomist! A respectable, solitary man.
Maggie endured the gossip. Life turned into a relentless tide: Mitty grew restless and loud, Maggie juggled the postbag, the farm, sleepless nights, while Gwen helped in silence, washing cloths and rocking the brother she had never known. Inside her, a storm raged.
Ethel wrote from York, Mum, how are you? I miss you! Money is thin, Im scraping by, but Ill send something soon. A year later she sent £5 and a pair of jeans two sizes too small for Gwen.
Maggies world spun. Gwen stood by her, both lives spiralling. Young men glanced at Gwen, then leftwho would want a bride with such a tarnished dowry? A mother with a wandering past, a brother who was a strangers child
One evening, when Gwen was twentyfive, she whispered, Should we tell them?
Dont! Maggie snapped, terrified. We cant ruin Ethels life. Shes married now, to a good man.
Ethel had indeed settled. She had finished college, married a salesman, moved to London, and sent glossy photos of herself in Egypt, Turkey, and the capitals highrise cafés. She never asked about the brother. Maggie wrote to her, Mitty is in first grade, getting fives. Ethel replied with an expensive, utterly useless toy.
Years passed. Mitty turned eighteen, tall, blueeyed, cheerful, hardworkingjust like Ethel. He loved both his mother and his sister Gwen. By then Gwen was senior matron at the district hospital, called the old spinster behind her back, yet she bore the weight of her mothers sacrifice.
Mitty graduated with a medal. Mum, Im going to London, applying to the engineering college! he announced.
Maggies heart leapt. Londonwhere Ethel lived.
Perhaps the county college? she suggested meekly.
No, Mum! I must push forward! Ill show you and Gwen what I can achieve! Youll have a palace! Mitty laughed.
On the day he handed in his final exam, a sleek black foreign car rolled up to the cottage gate. From it stepped Ethel, looking like a magazine coverthin, in a designer suit, dripping in gold.
Maggie gasped. Gwen, emerging onto the porch, froze, a towel in her hands. Ethel was nearly forty, yet radiant. She sang, Mum! Gwen! Hello! and planted a kiss on Maggies cheek. She turned to Mitty, who was wiping his hands on a rag in the shed.
Ethels eyes filled with tears. Hello, Mitty said politely. Are you Marina? Sister?
Sister Ethel echoed, breathless. Mum, we need to talk.
They sat in the cottage. Ethel produced a pack of thin cigarettes from her bag.
Mum I have everythinghouse, money, husband but no children.
She wept, smearing expensive mascara. We tried everythingIVF, doctors nothing works. My husband is angry. I cant go on.
Why did you come, Marina? Gwen asked softly.
Earl, the agronomist, who had been whispered about for years, stood on the threshold, pale as a sheet.
My son, Ethel whispered, eyes wide.
Youre mad! What son? Maggie gasped.
My son! I gave birth to him! Ill raise him, get him into any institute, buy him a flat in London! My husband agrees! I told him everything!
Maggie stared. You told him about us? About how they shamed me? About Gwen?
Gwen! Shell stay in the village forever! Ethel snapped. Miti has a chance! Mum, give him back! You saved my life, thank you! Now return the son!
The child isnt a thing to be returned! Maggie shrieked. Hes mine! I raised him through sleepless nights!
At that moment Mitty entered, having heard everything. He stood pale at the doorway.
Mum? Gwen? What what is she saying? About a son?
Mitty! My son! Im your mother! Do you understand? Im your real mother! Maggie pleaded.
Mitty looked at her, as if at a phantom, then at Ethel.
Is it true? he asked.
Maggie covered her face, sobbing. Suddenly Gwen, usually quiet, rose and slapped Ethel hard enough to send her flailing against the wall.
Wretch! she screamed, a scream that held eighteen years of humiliation, broken life, and fury at a mother who had deserted. Mother? How can you be his mother? You abandoned him like a stray puppy! You knew the village would point fingers at me! You knew my life would be ruined because of your sin! Im left aloneno husband, no children! And you return to snatch whats mine?
Mum, stop! Maggie whispered.
Its time, Mother! Enough! Youve suffered! Gwen turned to Mitty. Shes your mother, the one who pushed you onto my mother so you could do business in London! And she she pointed at Maggieis your grandmother! She trampled her own life for us both!
Mitty stayed silent, then slowly approached the weeping Maggie, knelt, and embraced her. Mum he murmured.
He looked at Ethel, who clutched her cheek and slid down the wall. I have no mother in London, he said quietly but firmly. I have one motherhere. And a sister.
He stood, took Gwens hand. You aunt please go.
Miti! My son! Ethel wailed. Ill give you everything!
I have everything, Mitty cut in. I have a mother. I have a sister. You have nothing.
Ethel left that evening, her husband watching from his car, never stepping out. Rumour has it he abandoned her a year later for another who bore him a child. She remained alone, with her money and her beauty.
Mitty never went to London; he entered the regional engineering college. Mum, we need a new house, he told Maggie.
Gwen, now thirtyeight, blossomed. The agronomist, the very man the women had gossiped about, finally took notice. He was a respectable widower.
Maggie watched them and finally weptnot for sin, but for a heart that had endured more than it should.
