Clara never knows how she and Victor end up with such clever children. Both of them leave school after only nine years, thanks to teachers who take pity on them. Everyone has their own gifts, as the saying goes: whatever Clara plants turns into a blooming flower within a week, while Victors hands seem to turn everything to gold.
They have four children the eldest, Margaret, then their second daughter, Poppy, and two sons born on the same day Samuel and Paul. Paul is the bright orangeseedling born to a humble mother; he isnt even three yet, yet he talks better than the average Poppy. When he starts school, teachers gasp he reads, writes and multiplies numbers so effortlessly that they move him straight into the second grade.
It may seem unfair to the other pupils, but Paul holds a special place in Claras heart. He is exempt from chores, and she buys him anything he asks for books, a microscope, anything. Even when the hard 1990s hit the country falters, and Claras whole world collapses, losing both Victor and her senior helper Martha in the same year she still shields Paul, lets him study, and even sends him to the city for further education.
Clara, what are you thinking of? the neighbours ask, watching Samuel haul water from the pump, Poppy pull potatoes in the garden, while Paul lounges on a bench reading a book. Do you expect him to repay you with a glass of water in his old age? Hell leave, and thatll be the end of it.
Ill teach you later! Clara snaps back. I do as I please.
The children echo their mothers words.
Why am I chopping firewood while he solves equations? Samuel complains.
Sit down and try it if you want, Clara chuckles.
Samuel grabs his textbook, stares at it for five minutes, then slams it shut and declares, Its nonsense, Id rather be out chopping wood!
Poppy is the most upset. She constantly rebels against Pauls privileged status, plotting mischief tossing his notebook into the furnace, slipping a rotten egg into his shoes.
You always give him the best slice, she shouts. Hell leave and abandon you, she repeats the neighbours warning.
When Paul leaves for university, the house quiets down. Clara clings a little more to her youngest son.
At first Paul sends long letters, describing his studies in a world Clara cant grasp. Over time the letters thin, and his visits become rarer the neighbours were right. Clara feels the sting, but shows no sign of it. Still, Paul graduates and becomes a respectable man.
Poppy marries a man from the neighbouring village. Clara dislikes him; hes a dreamer, always scheming new ways to get rich and constantly loses money. He now fantasises about opening a bakery, though the bank refused him a loan.
Samuel lives at home and isnt in a hurry to marry, though there are plenty of suitable girls.
Mother, I could use a bit of fun! Im thinking of buying a car not a clappedout banger, but a proper foreign model. Can you picture me in one? he says.
Clara sighs, What kind of car, Samuel? Youre like our old neighbour, Arthur. Stop daydreaming and get to work.
She says this more to keep him on his toes. Samuel ends up helping his father on the farm, shaping the house just as if it were a pictureperfect postcard, working as a tractor driver and finding shortcuts wherever he can. Clara never complains; she has a good son.
As for Paul, Clara has no clue where he is. Its been a year since any word; the last he wrote was that hed gone off to earn money, but where, no one knows.
When a shiny new car pulls up outside the house, Clara thinks someones lost and needs directions. The engine roars so loudly that hope flutters in her heart. She opens the gate and steps onto the road.
Standing beside the car is Paul. She recognises him instantly, even though she last saw him two years ago. He looks just like her late Victor tall, broadshouldered, with a halo of golden hair. Hes handsome, and the neighbours peek out of their windows, whispering that Paul hasnt forgotten his mother.
Clara rushes to him, embraces him tightly. My own blood, she whispers, it wasnt for nothing.
Samuel greets his brother with a grim smile.
Nice car youve got, he says, a hint of envy in his voice.
It isnt mine, Paul replies cheerfully.
Then whose is it? Samuel asks, a little calmer.
Yours, Paul says, tossing Samuel the keys. Take it, Ive already arranged the paperwork, well go to the solicitor later.
Samuel looks bewildered at his mother, who is smiling.
Thanks, brother, he says, embarrassed. But its so expensive!
It isnt more costly than money itself, Paul replies. Wheres Poppy?
Shes married, Clara interjects quickly. In the next village. Her husbands a hardworking bloke, theyre expecting a raise soon.
Married, you say? Then lets pay them a visit. Samuel, drive us in that new car.
Poppy greets them, a little flustered, and her husband, Arthur, immediately starts bragging about how successful businessman hell become, boasting about the bakery theyll open.
Talk a lot, Poppy snaps at him. You didnt get a loan, you cant open a bakery. Dont listen to him, Paul, hes a dreamer.
Paul smiles. Well sort the bakery, no problem. Tell me how much you need, Ill transfer the money.
Arthur stares at Paul, skeptical, having already heard his wife call her brother a lazy freeloader.
Paul pulls a small red tin from his pocket and hands it to his sister.
For you, Poppy.
She opens it carefully to find exquisite gold earrings set with emeralds the exact colour of her eyes. She gasps, tries them on, twirls in front of the mirror and says, Thanks, Paul. I begged Arthur for earrings and all he bought me was a meat grinder!
Clara sits, quiet and happy. She imagines Paul might bring her a gift later earrings, a bracelet, maybe even a washing machine.
But Paul says nothing until Poppy mentions that their mother will be discharged from the hospital after giving birth.
Just for a short while, Poppy, Paul says. Ill take Mum with me, if she wants to come.
Clara looks at her son, bewildered. Take me with you? Where? How?
I dont know What about the house?
What house? Samuel will live there, bring a new lady. I miss you, Mum, Im lonely. Come with me. If you dont like it, you can always come back.
Clara has no idea what to think. Her whole life, Victors and Marthas graves are here But her beloved son is there, in a completely different world. She wonders what Victor would say.
Just then, she imagines Victor at the doorway cap tilted, calloused hands folded over his chest.
Whats the point of all this, Clara? You raised him for a better life. Its time you see it too, or youll never know if it was all for nothing.
She smiles and replies, Why not take the ride?
