ONE TRUE LOVE
On the day of my mothers funeral, my father, Arthur, didnt shed a single tear.
Look at him. I told you, he never really loved Martha, Aunt Rosie whispered to her friend Eileen as the church bells tolled in our little Hampshire village.
Oh hush, woman. What difference does it make now? The children are left orphans, and thats all that matters with that man, Eileen replied, shaking her head.
Youll see, Rosie insisted to Eileen, hell soon marry Claire.
What, Claire? Why her? Its Emily who has always been the love of his life. Or have you forgotten how they carried on behind the haystacks as youngsters? Claire would never get involved with Arthur, not with her own family to look afterbesides, shes moved on.
And how do you know, then?
Of course I know. Claires husbands a leader at the parish council; what would she want with Arthur and his lot? Shes practical, but Emilys unhappy with her Simon. I wager Emily and Arthur will rekindle, just you wait.
After mum was buried, my sister Lily and I held hands tightly. Wed just turned eight. Dad and mum married, everyone said, because mum fell pregnant with my older sister Hannah, who was born premature and died before I was born. After that, it was years before she had us, and folks wondered if Dad ever truly cared for her at all.
Arthur was always quiet, sombre and self-contained. The villagers called him the Badger. He spoke little, and as for affectionwell, mum must have felt it most. Even so, she prayed endlessly for children, and, as if through a miracle, she was granted twins. Me, Michael, and my sister Lily.
I was mums child through and throughgentle and soft-hearted. Lily, on the other hand, was very much Dads daughter: impossible to wring a word from her, always locked away in her own thoughts, and, inevitably, she was closest to Dad. They were much alike. If Dad was tinkering in the shed, Lily would hover around him, soaking up every lesson, every story.
Mum adored us, but Lily was always a mystery to her, while to me she clung with all her heart. And when she was taken ill, she told me in a whisper:
Mikey, I shant be here much longer. Youll have to step uplook after your sister, she needs you. Youre the man of the house now. You must protect her. Shes a girl, shell need your help.
But what about Dad? I remember asking.
What? she said softly.
Will Dad protect us?
She sighed, I dont know, love. Life will show us.
Then please dont die, Mum, I sobbed.
If only it was up to me, she murmured, the words barely hanging in the winter air. And by morning, she was gone.
Dad sat beside her, holding her hand. He didnt say a word, nor did a single tear fall, just seemed to shrink into himself, greyer and older.
In time, life found its rhythm again. Lily took it upon herself to be lady of the house, trying to cook, tidy, but she was so young. Dads sister, Aunt Natalie, helpedshowing Lily how to run things at home.
One evening, Lily asked quietly, Auntie Nat, dyou think Dad will marry someone else?
She shrugged, I dont know, love. Who knows what goes on in his mind?
Aunt Nat had her own family, a kind and loving lot.
If things get bad, will you take us in? Lily pressed.
Dont be silly. Your father loves you both, nothing will happen to you while hes around, Aunt Nat reassured her.
Still, the word around the village was that Dad and Emilyhis old flamewere spending time together.
Emilys gone mad, getting herself mixed up with Arthur again and forgetting her family, gossiped Rosie in the post office.
Daft woman, that Emily, replied the other ladies waiting in line.
Come on, now, time to get on with your own business, Mr. Hawkins, the parish chairman, scolded them as he passed, You lot gossip about others but know little of your own neighbours.
Dad and Emily really did have something long agoenough, perhaps, for a romance novel. But back then, Dad was sent off to work on another farm, out in Norfolk, to help with the harvest. When he returned after two months, Emily had started seeing Simon. Dad found out, gave Simon what for, and after that, never spoke to Emily again.
Emily married Simon, who was a layabout, given to drink and affairs, and she wept now and then that shed lost such a hard worker as Dad. In comparison, Dad didnt drink, worked hard, but was always reserved.
Thats when people noticed him leaning towards Martha. Martha, it seemed, blossomed under his attention; the villagers commented as much.
Love works wonders, doesnt it? theyd say.
Mum had long been secretly in love with Dad, but hed always been Emilys. Funny how life works out.
Soon enough, Dad and Martha were married at the registry in the next village. The wedding was modest. Dads family was just Aunt Natalie; Mums only relative, her ageing mother. It was understood, though never spoken, that the Parish Chairman had once been Mums mothers lover. Anne, Mums mother, never married she was a lively woman, not much liked by the village, but Martha was nothing like her.
People pitied Martha, especially when she married Arthur.
Shell never get him to love her. Shell spend her life suffering, muttered Mrs. Partridge.
Curiously, Dad was always faithful. In a village, its hard to hide anything.
Fifteen years they were married, without real quarrel or drama, and eventually folk stopped talkinguntil Martha fell ill last winter. The doctor said it was cancer, nothing to be done.
One evening, as Dad walked home, Emily caught up to him.
Arthur, shall I pop in for a bit? Ive baked pies for the children, she said, holding out a Tupperware.
No thanks, Emily. Nat baked us pies yesterday.
But I mean well, Arthur, honestly, Emily insisted.
So does my sister, he replied.
Arthur, meet me by the old mill tonight, she tried.
What for?
Oh, come now have you forgotten all we had together? Emilys eyes widened.
What we had is gone. My love is for the children. For Martha he trailed off, but she cant come back now, she replied.
Love doesnt die, Emily argued.
You didnt love her. You just married her to spite me, she accused hotly.
Go home, Emily, Dad said quietly, walking on towards our house, where we waited for him.
Emily was left standing on the dusk-lit lane.
Years passed, and Lily and I grew up. Aunt Nat still visited, ever certain her brother had only one love.
Lily, I hear youre spending time with Alfie Morton, she said to my sister, entering the kitchen one afternoon.
I amso what? she replied.
Just be careful, thats all, Nat replied.
Why?
You know why, Lily, youre not a child anymore, her voice strict.
Aunt Nat, I love him, I really do. Its forever.
Thats what young girls always think.
Its not just a feelingIm sure.
Maybe you are, but is Alfie?
If Alfie betrays me, I could never love anyone again, my sister said simply.
I believe you, Aunt Nat replied.
That evening, Lily and I waited in the front room, listening for Dads footsteps.
Hes late, I said.
Its Friday, Lily replied.
So?
He always visits mums grave on Wednesdays, Fridays, and weekends.
How do you know?
Silly, you should know your own fathers heart by now.
We slipped quietly out to the churchyard, taking Lilys secret path through the allotments.
There, look, she whispered, and we saw Dad, hunched by the headstone.
We lingered, and I listened as he spoke, his voice gentle and low.
So, Martha, thats how things are. Lilys getting married soon. Ive gathered her trousseau, Nats helped. Were managing. Forgive me, for speaking few kind words to you while you were alive, but my heart spoke them in silence. Words dont come easy to me, but I loved you, you know. Always with my heart, not my tongue, he finished, voice cracking.
As he walked slowly from the churchyard, I glanced at Lily. Tears glistened in my eyesand in hers.
