June 3rd
Today Victor finally turned the corner of the A38 a little later than usual. My wife, Theresa, was waiting by the doorway, eyes narrowed as if something had gone awry on the road. Our boy, Charlie, bounced on the hearth, tugging at his knitted jumper and shouting, Dad? Dad! Hooray, youre home! He leapt up on one foot, trying to slip his boot on while the coat hung limply from his shoulders.
I told him, Where do you think youre going, you little rascal? Its bitter cold and nights deep, go sit by the fire; Ill be in a moment. Charlie pouted, his lips pursed, ready to wail.
Dont you cry, Im coming in a sec, Theresa snapped, Victor will be here any minute. Yet Victor lagged behind the gate.
Theresa muttered, Whats he up to now? Drunk, perhaps? She tried to coax Charlie to stay put. Sit down, love, Ill go see for myself.
Mom, Im scared, Charlie whined.
Whats the matter with you? Sit still, you hear? she snapped, shoving a woollen shawl over his shoulders as she scolded him. At that moment the front door burst open, a rush of steam spilling into the cottage as two bright yellow vans pulled up outside.
Victor stepped in, not alone. A slender eighteenyearold girl in a brown coat with a black velvet collar slipped inside, her grey eyes wide as saucers, a fringe of light hair falling across her forehead.
Come in, come in, Evelyn, Theresa called, Molly, help the guest settle.
Without quite knowing why, Theresa helped Evelyn peel off her coat. The girl was heavily pregnant, her belly protruding like a plump autumn goose. She made her way to the kitchen table, sat down, and folded her trembling hands on her lap.
Charlie peeked out from behind the hearth, eyes wide.
Wheres my son, Nick? What have you brought? Victor barked, snatching Charlie from the hearth and hoisting him up as if to the ceiling. Molly, get us something to eat; well starve otherwise.
Later, as night fell and Charlie drifted to sleep, I heard Victor muttering under his breath while Theresa whispered sharply, and the guest sobbed quietly.
By morning the whole village knew that Victor had brought his younger, pregnant sister home. The blokes tossed his lot onto us, Theresa whispered to the other women in the barn, no mother, no father, what are we to do with a child like that?
One of them asked, You never told us you had kin, you said you were an orphan.
Theresa replied, If youve no parents, are you really an orphan? and the gossip swirled.
Evelyn, Charlies aunt, soon went into labour. Victor drove her to the district hospital, and shortly after a tiny girl, Minnie, was placed in Charlies care. Evelyn never returned.
My dear, shes gone, Theresa said bluntly, a sudden edge in her voice.
Minnie was a little bundle of pink cheeks, a proper dolllike child. Charlie spotted her in his neighbours garden, holding a soft toy named Anton, and declared, Now Ive got my own little one, a living one at that.
Victor stood quiet, head bowed. Do what you will with her, he said, I dont need her here.
Theresa snapped, What sort of mother are you? Take her to a workhouse or a pond?
Either way, Victor muttered, its all the same to me.
Charlie burst out, Dont send Minnie to a workhouse or a pond! Mum, please, let me look after her. Ill be her guardian. He clutched at the hem of Theresas skirt, pleading with a raw, earnest curse.
The room fell silent. Fine, do as you wish, Victor sighed. Go on then.
I watched as Charlie knelt beside Minnie, who slept soundly in a cotton blanket, unaware of the fate that had just been decided. He whispered gentle words, calling her sunshine and little darling. The night was restless for Charlie; he imagined his mother tossing him out with his little sister. Sleep, you scamp, I wont hurt your Minnie, his mother hissed, eyes narrowed, as if ready to throw the baby into the cold.
The next year Charlie started school; we thought of hiring a nanny for the pair. Life settled into a rhythm: Victor drove the delivery van, Theresa tended the cows, and Charlie and Minnie grew up together. When Charlie came home from school, he would stretch his arms wide, scooping up his tiny sister as she toddled on wobbly legs. The other village children called her Minnie and treated her as one of their own.
Charlie later enlisted, and Minnies cries echoed through the house whenever he was away. The women of the village would say, He raised her like his own, gave her a proper fathers love. They added, Theresa can be rough, Victor is a quiet sort, but the children are a different breed altogether.
When Charlie returned from the army, a month of idle days turned into a drivers job. He brought his wife home, and the children welcomed her with open arms. Charlie and his wife married, and Minnie, now a bright young woman, went off to university in the city, always promising to visit her brother first before heading home.
Minnie returned after her studies, became a doctor in the village, found a good husband, and raised children of her own. As the years slipped by, Victor grew frail, and Theresas spirit waned. One night, as Minnie rested, she heard a soft voice call, Mum?
Whats the matter, love? Theresa asked, Do you need a drink? Are you hurting?
Sit, child, she urged. Yes, of course.
Mum, Im sorry, Minnie whispered.
For what? Theresa replied, I never meant to send you to an orphanage. It was the burden of a secret, the one about your fathers sister. I didnt hold a grudge, theres nothing to forgive.
Minnie answered, You were never a stranger to me. You gave me life, love, a family. My brother Charlie, Aunt Kate, Uncle Victor, theyre all part of me. I have a huge kinship thanks to you.
Theresa sighed, Its time for me to go, dear. Im ready to leave this world with a smile, knowing Victor and I have done all we could.
I wrote this entry to remind myself that lifes twists can be cruel, yet kindness can smooth the rough edges. The lesson I cling to now is that a home built on love, no matter how tangled the past, will always shelter those who stay true to it.
