On the edge of nowhere.
Snow was piling into my boots and stinging my skin. I kept thinking about buying wellies, but honestly, I fancied knee-high boots though Id look utterly ridiculous around here in those. Not that I could buy anything, Dads blocked my card.
So you really want to live in a village? he asked, twisting his mouth in disdain.
Dad couldnt stand the countryside, nature walks, anything that didnt involve the comforts and conveniences of city life. And George was just the same; thats why I ended up going to the village. I never truly wanted to live out here, even though, unlike my father, I actually liked hiking, tents, and all that romantic notion. But settling in a village? Absolutely not. Of course, I told Dad the opposite.
I want to. And I will.
Dont be silly. What are you going to do, muck out cows? I thought you and George would be getting married this summer thought wed be planning the wedding
The wedding. Dad served George to me like cold, lumpy porridge so unpleasant it made me nauseous for hours. George looked decent enough: straight nose, bright eyes under neat brows, a mop of well-trimmed wavy hair, solid build. He was my dads right-hand man and lately Dad was desperate for his daughter to marry such a good catch.
But I couldnt stand George. His boring, droning voice grated on me; those stubby fingers always fiddling with things, bragging about the cost of his suits, his watches, his car
Money, money, money! It was all they cared about. I wanted love real, breathless, messy love, just like the novels. Id never truly felt it, but I knew it would come. I had crushes, sure, loved one boy or another for a week or two, but nothing lasted, nothing left battle scars. And I wanted the scars, the drama not calm, predictable George. So when I got the chance to teach at a rural primary school, it sounded brilliant. George would never follow me here; George was terrified of slow internet, no hot water, no plumbing.
I picked a village where there was none of that on purpose. The head teacher was reluctant at first, doubted Id cope, but the previous teacher had suddenly passed away, and I was persistent: took all my certificates, went to the borough office, argued my case.
And whats a young, well-qualified teacher like you going to do in the sticks? asked this stern lady with striking ginger hair.
Teach children, I replied, just as sternly.
So now, I was teaching. Living in a little house with no hot water or central heating, lighting the wood burner myself. George did come, spent one night, and ran for the hills. He rang, tried to coax me home, but like Dad, thought Id get over this phase soon enough.
At first, I liked it. But then winter arrived. The cold cut through the house, so even under my duvet, the chill crept in; carrying logs back and forth was tougher than anything Id imagined. I wanted to go home sometimes, honestly, but Im not a quitter. And now it wasnt just me I was responsible for. There were the kids.
My class was tiny, just twelve children. At first, I was shocked: back in my old job at the Youth Arts Centre, the kids were bright and talented. Here well, these lot seemed hopeless. Year Three, and some could barely read. No homework. Noise everywhere. But that was just at the start. Soon enough, I grew to love them.
Simon carved animals from wood, and these werent rough lumps they were beautiful foxes, raccoons, rabbits, bears, honestly good enough for Regent Street toy shops. Annie wrote lovely free verse poetry, Billy stayed after class to tidy up, and Iris had a little lamb that walked her to school like a puppy.
And, actually, these kids could read. They just hadnt been given the right books, and no one had really cared before. I ditched the official curriculum and brought my own, trekking into the nearby market town for new stories since the internet here barely worked and online orders were a no-go.
The only child I couldnt reach was one, and it was her father I saw as my face screwed up against the icy snow, arms full with a bundle of logs.
Good evening, Miss Margaret Edwards, he said, stopping just outside the front gate.
I was nervous of him, to be honest. His face was well, rough, like someone you dont mess with. He never smiled. My heart hammered so hard I worried hed notice how scared I was. Or maybe maybe not scared?
Hello, I answered, voice higher than Id meant.
Why does Tania keep getting nothing but failing marks?
Because she doesnt do any work.
So make her. Whos the teacher here, me or you?
Well, I was the teacher. But I had no intention of forcing anyone. Tania probably had autism, and she needed specialist support.
Is it always like this with her? I checked.
Victor hesitated.
Not always. She did everything with Olivia before.
And whos Olivia?
He grimaced, as if the icy snow had slipped into his boot too.
Thats her mum.
You only had to hear it once to realise it was best not to ask the next question. But I had to.
And where is she now?
Shes in the graveyard.
There it was simple, tragic, like Dad says: No hidden catch, just the obvious answer.
Standing there with an armful of logs was awkward and heavy, but I felt too embarrassed to say so. When the top log slipped off, landing squarely on my foot, I gasped, dropped them all, barely holding back tears. Tears of pain, and also feeling stupid for falling apart in front of an adult. Silly really I am an adult myself. But I didnt feel like one just then.
Let me help, Victor offered.
No, its fine, I can manage!
I can see how well you manage.
He carried in the logs, knocked a wedge out of the doorframe so it stopped sticking.
Ask if you need anything, he said and vanished.
Why he came round was a mystery. Just because he gave me a hand, does he think Ill bump up Tanias grades? Not likely
I couldnt stop thinking about Tania. For days, I tried everything to reach her, feeling like a failing teacher, but also just desperate for the child. Even asked the deputy head.
Thats a lost cause. Give her failing marks, well send her to a special school in the summer.
What, how?
Commission will assess her, theyll stamp her as needing support. Cant do much more, if the childs like that.
But her dad said she used to
Oh, forget about before! Mum did everything for her. He wont manage that. Dont listen to him, hell tell you all sorts
You dont like him, do you? I guessed.
Deputy pursed her lips.
Well, hes not exactly a treat, is he? The child needs the right environment for learning.
That didnt sit right with me. I wasnt convinced she belonged in a special school. So I rang my favourite mentor, Linda Carter, asked her advice, and set out to visit Tania at home. I was scared stiff, even made chamomile tea though I didnt really like it Mum always said it calmed her nerves. My mum died too, so maybe thats why this whole thing hit me so deeply.
Victor wasnt exactly welcoming, though I imagined hed be pleased I wanted to help his daughter.
We dont really have visitors, he said flatly.
I pursed my lips, just like the deputy head, and said the class teacher must check up on pupils home environment.
Tanias room was gorgeous pink wallpaper, plush toys, stacks of books. I felt a stab of envy: Dad was a minimalist, couldnt bear frills or bright colours. My nursery was beige, every toy beige, nothing fun.
The first visit got nowhere. I asked Tania about her favourite books, flicked through them, hunted for coloured pencils. She fetched them in silence, wouldnt talk about the books. Only at the end, I asked her about the pink rabbit toy.
What’s her name?
Flossie, she said.
Next visit, I brought Flossie a little cardigan. Mum had taught me to knit, so every year Id make something in her memory. Id chosen a chunky yarn and my knitting was wonky, but Tania loved it, tried it on, and said:
Its pretty.
I suggested drawing Flossie in her new cardigan. Tania did, I wrote the name underneath deliberately misspelling it. Tania corrected me.
Not learning disabled, not at all.
Ill visit Tania three times a week, I told Victor.
I cant afford extra, he grumbled.
Im not asking for money, I replied, a little hurt.
That settled it.
Deputy head didnt like my new arrangement either.
Whats this, going rogue? Focusing on just one child, thats bad practice! Waste of time, Ive seen these cases before.
I have too, I cut her off. And I know its far too soon to give up completely.
Tania was different, sure: nearly always quiet, never made eye contact, always drawing instead of writing. But she did maths well, picked up grammar quickly. By the end of term, her grades spoke for themselves.
Are you going away for Christmas? Victor asked, suddenly unable to meet my eyes, exactly like Tania.
No, nowhere, I stammered, face burning.
Tania wants to invite you.
It was strange. Tania herself hadnt said anything, barely spoke at all. But I couldnt let the girl down. Still, celebrating Christmas with people I barely knew felt awkward.
Thanks, Ill think about it, I said.
I hardly slept that night, turning it over in my head. It made sense, after a month of daily attention, that Tania had thawed a little. Wasnt that what I wanted? And what did Victors opinion matter anyway
I dozed off with those thoughts.
In the morning, George called.
So, when are you coming back?
What do you mean?
For Christmas, obviously. Dont tell me youll celebrate in your tiny village?
I absolutely will!
Come on Dads blood pressures through the roof, hes worrying himself sick.
Dad hadnt called me once.
He should see a doctor, I snapped.
So, you really wont come?
I really wont.
Alright then. What am I supposed to do?
Whatever you like!
Honestly, I didnt think George would take it literally drive out here with champagne, salad, and gifts.
If the mountain wont come to Muhammad he said.
I just stared. And it wasnt exactly unpleasant. I never imagined hed do this; George always did Christmas in fancy restaurants, with contests and live music. Here, there wasnt even a telly.
Well, youre here thats all that matters.
I kept trying to spot the catch. But there wasnt one. Have I been totally wrong about him? I thought.
Then he unpacked all my favourite food from the containers, and the presents teaching books, a projector, a teachers planner.
Thank you, I said, genuinely moved. I thought youd bring jewellery and gadgets, like always.
George smiled.
Margaret, you are the most precious thing in my life. If you want to live in a village, well live in a village. I brought you jewellery too.
He produced a red velvet box. No guessing what was inside.
Can I not answer right now? I asked.
He didnt mind.
I was just afraid youd say no straight away. Ill wait as long as it takes.
I didnt know what to say, so I hid the box in my pocket.
Victor had my mobile, but rang me on the house phone.
Have you decided? he asked.
Sorry. Ive got a friend visiting.
I see.
He hung up.
That I see really stung. What did he see? I hadnt promised him anything, so why sulk? Was he sulking? Maybe. Over Tania. Shed been looking forward to it, and what parent wants their child disappointed?
My head was spinning with it all. George was blissfully unaware, fussing over trying to wrangle some broadband so we could watch Christmas movies.
Then I heard a whistle the kind people use to call dogs. I remembered Victor whistling just like that. Looked out the window. Victor and Tania were at the gate.
I flushed bright red.
Whos that? George demanded, scowling.
My pupil, Tania squeaked. Ill be back in a sec.
Id prepared a present for Tania: a friend for Flossie, a pink rabbit girl. Dad would have said it was tasteless.
Id made Victor a gift as well. Wasnt sure I should, but I had: knitted him some gloves.
I snatched the gifts and ran outside, as I was no coat, bare legs. My boots filled instantly with snow, but I didnt even flinch.
Happy Christmas, Tania! I said, awkwardly cheerful. Look what I got for you.
She took the bag, pulled out the rabbit, hugged it close, looked up at her dad. Victor handed me two bundles, one large, one small. Tania opened the big one first: a notebook with her own hand-drawn comic inside, unmistakably hers.
Thank you, thats a lovely comic!
The smaller bundle revealed a bird-shaped brooch. Tiny, golden hummingbird. I glanced at Victor. He didnt look back. But Tania whispered:
It was Mums.
My throat tightened painfully.
Well, well get going then, Victor mumbled.
Of course Happy Christmas!
And you, too
I wanted to hug Tania, but couldnt bear to she just stood there, clutching the toy, silent.
At the gates, I glanced back. Something squeezed in my chest seeing those two, and I went back inside, blinking furiously.
Well, what was that about? George grumbled.
I looked at the notebook, the brooch in my hand. Remembered Id forgotten to give Victor his gloves. And what Tania had said: It was Mums And how Victor only ever smiled when he looked at his daughter a real, contagious smile. Something bloomed and broke inside me. I felt bad for George, truly, but it was pointless to lie to him or to myself.
I pulled the velvet box from my coat, handed it to him.
Go home. Im sorry, I cant marry you. I really am.
George paled. He wasnt used to being refused.
For a moment, I wondered if he might hit me. But he just put the box away, grabbed his car keys, and walked out without a word.
I quickly packed up the food in containers, grabbed Victors gloves, and legged it after those two not family, but the people I really needed right now.
