At the edge of the world.
Snow finds its way into Lily’s boots, stings her skin. But splashing out on wellies isnt an option; shed rather have knee-high boots, though shed look ridiculous in them here. Anyway, her dads gone and frozen her bank card.
So, you really mean to live in a village? he sneers, twisting his mouth.
Dad cant stand the countrysideany setting that lacks the luxuries of city life. And George? Just the same. Lilys escape to the village is partly for that very reason. Truth is, she never dreamed of settling here forever, even if she does like camping, tents, and a dash of adventureunlike her father. But life in the village? Not for her. She tells her father different.
I do want this. And I will.
Dont talk nonsense. What will you do, pull cows tails? I thought youd marry George this summer, that wed prep for a wedding
The wedding. Dads been pushing George at her like cold lumpy porridgeso revolting she feels sick for hours after. Its not that George is awful lookingin fact, hes not bad: strong nose, lively eyes under neat eyebrows, wavy hair cut just so, sturdy build. Hes Dads right hand man, his chosen one, and lately Dads been set on marrying Lily off to this ideal gent.
She cant abide George. His boring voice grates on her, his fingers look like chipolatasalways fiddling, always boasting: How much his suit cost, his watch, his car… Money, money, money! Its all they care about. Lily wants love; the sort that leaves you breathless, like in stories. She hasnt felt it yet, but she trusts itll come. She falls for boys now and then, but those feelings fade, leaving no marksshe wants scars and drama, not the bland predictability of someone like George. Thats why teaching in the local school out here felt right. George would never followhed be terrified of patchy Wi-Fi, no central heating, no sewage.
She picked the village intentionallyno mod cons, no fuss. The headteacher hesitated, doubted she was up to it, but after the previous teacher passed away, Lily persisted: through certificates, diplomas, education department interviews.
And whats a qualified, young teacher doing in a village? asks the stern woman with bright copper hair.
Teaching children, Lily replies, matching her tone.
Now, thats what she does. Lives in a little house with no hot running water, firing up the stove herself. Just as she guessed, George came, lasted a night before running home. He calls, tries to coax her back, but like Dad, thinks its a phase.
At first, Lily liked it. Then winter set in. The house turned freezing at night, so even under blankets she shivered, and lugging firewood was a task and a half. She wished she were back, truthfully, but shes not one to quit. Plus, shes responsible nownot just for herself, but for her pupils.
Her class is tiny: twelve kids. When she started, she was shocked. Back in London at the Youth Creativity Centre, where shed taught the past eighteen months, the kids were bright, sharp, creative. Here hopeless, she thought. Year Three, yet some still sound out words syllable by syllable. No homework, unruly lessons. But soon, she fell in love with them.
Samuel carves animals out of woodfoxes, raccoons, rabbits, bearsbeautiful enough for display in Hamleys. Annie writes blank verse; Billy tidies the classroom after lessons; Ivy has a little lamb that follows her to school like a pet dog.
And reading? They just hadnt had a fair shot or the right books. Lily disregards the official scheme, bringing in others, driving to the nearest town for themonline ordering is out; hardly any connection.
One pupil, though, she just cant reach. And its her pupil’s father whom Lily sees now, squinting against the bite of snow, arms burdened with logs.
Good afternoon, Miss Lily Edwards, he says, pausing a few steps from the gate.
Lily is nervous, honestly. His face rough, almost criminal-looking. Never smiles. Her heart racesshe fears hell sense that, see how scared she feels. Or is she scared?
Hello, she manages, her voice higher than shed like.
Whys Tessa getting only fails?
She doesnt do her work.
So make her. Whos the teacher hereyou or me?
Its Lily. But she wont force Tessashe probably has autism, needs another kind of help.
Has she always struggled? Lily checks, just in case.
William hesitates. Not always. She used to work with Olivia.
And Olivia is?
He grimaces, as though snow’s gotten into his shoe. Her mum.
Its clear Lily shouldnt press further, but she risks it.
And where is she now?
In the cemetery.
So thats the way of it. As Dad would say, sometimes the answer is simple.
Holding an armful of logs is awkward; Lilys embarrassed, but says nothing. When the top log slips, smacks her foot, she cries out, drops the pile, and blinks away tearshurt and frustrated to look so foolish in front of an adult. Though, shes an adult herself, surely.
Let me help, William offers.
No, Im fine, honestly.
I can see that, he says flatly, picking up the logs, nudging the door so it stops sticking.
If you need anything he says as he leaves.
Why did he come? Surely hes not thinking shell give Tessa a pass for a few loads of firewood. Doubtful.
Tessa preys on Lilys thoughts for days. She tries everything, feeling both professionally inadequate and tenderly sorry for the girl. Even goes to the deputy head.
Oh, thats a lost cause. Just keep marking fails, well transfer her to a special school come summer.
How?
Just send her for assessmenttheyll label her. What else can we do, with a child like her?
But her dad says
Never mind what he says! He wont manage; hell tell you all sorts
You dont like him, do you? Lily guesses.
The deputy purses her lips. Hes not here to be liked. The girl needs proper support.
That doesnt do for Lily. She doesnt think Tessa needs special school. Consulting her favourite advisor, Lydia Harris, she finds courage, drinks calming chamomile tea her mother swore by (her mums gone too, hence Lilys empathy), and heads to Tessas home.
William is brusque, not as welcoming as shed imagined: We dont really have guests, he tells her.
So Lily purses her lips like the deputy, explains it’s her duty as class teacher to check on home conditions.
Tessas room is wonderfulpink wallpaper, plush toys, stacks of books. Lily feels a pang; her own father was minimalist, beige everything. Even her toys faded into the walls.
That first visit doesnt go well. Lily chats about books, asks about pencils; Tessa silently fetches them, (no word about books). Only at the end, when Lily asks the pink rabbits name, Tessa replies, Flopsy.
Next time Lily brings a jumper for Flopsy, knitting it herself with too-thick wool, in honour of her mum, who taught her. To her surprise, Tessa lights up, tries it on the rabbit, and says, Pretty.
Lily suggests drawing Flopsy in the new jumper; Tessa agrees. Lily writes the name, purposefully misspelling it so Tessa can fix it.
Shes far from unteachable.
Ill visit Tessa three times a week, Lily tells William.
I cant pay extra, he grumbles.
I dont want money, she retorts, offended.
An agreement is struck.
Word of her visits reach the deputy, whos not pleased.
You can’t focus on one childthat’s unprofessional! Besides, it’s pointlessIve seen children like her.
So have I, Lily interrupts, and its too soon to give up.
Tessas truly different: silent, avoids eye contact, prefers drawing to writing. But her maths is fine, grammar too. By end of term, the satisfactory marks are genuine.
You going away for Christmas? William asks, eyes down, just like Tessa.
No not really, Lily falters, cheeks reddening.
Tessa wants to invite you.
OddTessa hasnt mentioned it, but then, she speaks little. Lily cant bear to disappoint her, but celebrating Christmas with strangers is awkward.
Ill think about itthanks, Lily says.
That night, sleep is elusive; she puzzles over why shes so unsettled. A month with Tessa, and the girls warming upsurely thats what Lily wanted? Who cares what William thinks?
Morning brings a call from George.
When are you coming home?
What?
For Christmas? You wont really stay in that village?
YesI am!
Come on, Lily. Dads blood pressures all over the place, hes fretting about you.
Dads never rung her once.
See a doctor, then, Lily snaps.
So youre really not coming?
Really.
Oh so what do we do?
Do as you please!
Lily doesnt imagine George will turn upwith champagne, party food, and presents.
If the mountain wont come to Muhammad
Shes floored. Its not unpleasant, exactly, but unexpectedGeorge usually fancies Christmas in a fancy restaurant, with live music, a quiz, the works. Here, theres not even a telly.
Never mind. Youre herethats all that matters.
Lily searches for irony, but finds none. Maybe I misjudged him, she wonders.
She melts further, finding her favourite foods in the containers, and in the giftsbooks on teaching, a projector, and a teachers diary.
Thanks, she says, genuinely touched. I thought youd bring jewellery or gadgets, like always
George smiles. You, Lily, are the most precious thing I have. If you want to live here, well live here. Ive brought the jewels, too.
He unboxes a little red velvet case. Its obvious whats inside.
Can I hold on to this, for now? Lily asks.
George isnt put out.
I was worried youd turn me down straight away. Ill wait as long as it takes.
She doesnt know what to say, tucks the box away.
William has her number, but calls the landline.
Have you decided? he asks.
Sorry. A friends arrived.
I see.
He puts down the phone.
Immediately, Lily feels wretched. What was that tone? I see What does he see? Nothing is promisedits not for him to be put out! Is he upset? Maybe. Probably for Tessas sakeevery father wants his child happy.
The thought twists her mind. George stays oblivious, fiddling with his phone, desperate to stream a Christmas film.
Then Lily hears whistlingthe call for his dog. William always whistles like that. She glances outside. William and Tessa stand by the gate.
Flush rises to her cheeks.
Whos that? George snaps.
A pupil, Lily squeaks. Just a sec.
Shes prepared a gift for Tessaa friend for Flopsy, a pink girl rabbit. Her father would have scoffed at the sentimentality.
Shes made William something toounsure if its right, but shes done it: woollen mittens.
She grabs the gifts and dashes outno hat, bare legs, snow flooding her boots, but she doesnt care.
Tessa, hello! she greets sweetly. Happy Christmas! See what Ive got for you.
She hands over the bag. Tessa hugs the rabbit close, glances at her father. William offers two parcels: one big, one small. Tessa opens the large onea notebook, illustrated like a comic, instantly recognized as her own drawings.
Thank youits wonderful!
The smaller parcel holds a broocha tiny golden hummingbird. Lily looks up at William. He wont meet her eyes. But Tessa says:
It was Mums.
Lily feels a lump in her throat.
Well we should go, William mutters.
Of course. Happy Christmas! Lily wishes them.
To you too
Lily wants to hug Tessa, but hesitatesthe girl clings to her new toy, saying not a word.
At the gate, Lily glances back. For some reason, seeing those two squeeze her heart, and she enters the house blinking, sniffling softly.
So, what was that all about? George grumbles.
Lily looks at the notebook and the brooch in her palm. Remembers she forgot the mittensand what Tessa said: Mums And Williams infectious smileseen only when he looks at his daughter. Something stirs and blooms inside her; George deserves pity, but lying to him or herself is pointless.
She draws the velvet box from her pocket, hands it to George. Go home. Im sorryI cant marry you. I amtruly.
Georges face falls; he isnt used to refusal.
She half-expects him to lash out, but he just pockets the box, grabs his car keys, and leaves without a word.
Lily packs up the food in tubs, snatches the mittens for William, and races after those strange, essential people she needs so much right nowLily stands at the window for a long while, watching the cars taillights vanish down the snowy lane, until only the hush of falling flakes remains. Her fingers absently trace the shape of the hummingbird on her palm. She wonders if William and Tessa are home yet, if Tessa is drawing in her new notebook, maybe spelling Flopsys name again and again.
For the first time since arriving, Lily feels the quiet settle around her like an embrace. Not empty, not lonelyalive with promise. She walks to the stove, stokes the fire, and listens to it crackle. She thinks of her mothers chamomile, her mothers knitting, and the home shes making out of all the threads left to her.
Tomorrow, shell visit Tessa with the mittens. Shell read stories, listen to Annies poems, carve wood with Samuel. Shell keep bringing books, keep hoping for the love that leaves a mark. Maybe it will come, quietly, and look nothing like she imagined.
For now, Lily sits at her kitchen table, brooch shining in the lamplight, and writes in her new teachers diary: Some things grow strong in winter. Sometimes, lost causes bloom.
She smiles, closes the book, and lets herself be a little bit happy.
