Peter grew up in a large family. His father, fond of drink, drifted from one job to the next, while his mother struggled on at her post office and kept the house together, doing her utmost to feed her three children.
Peter was the eldest, so he helped his mother about the house, tended to his younger sisters, fetched water and chopped firewood. As the girls grew older, they too pitched in, but by then their father was gonehaving poisoned himself with some foul concoction hed downed in company with his friends.
Life didnt become any easier for them.
His mother would often sigh, mourning her feckless husband:
He mightve been a drunk, but he was quiet. Never raised a row. And though it wasnt much, he always brought home a little money Oh, silly William, what have you left us for
Peter, tired of his mothers lamenting, would finish his chores in haste and slip out. Come evening, he would join the village children at their favorite meeting spotan abandoned cottage at the very edge of the village. The place had stood empty for years, but the broad, sturdy wooden steps made a perfect bench for their gatherings.
Perched like little sparrows, theyd crack sunflower seeds between their teeth and take turns telling talessome true, some invented.
Peter never had pocket money for the sunflower seeds, and his mother never bought them, saving every penny. But his neighbour and childhood friend, Alice, always had a handful for him. Shed offer the seeds quietly, unassumingly, slipping the sweet, oily kernels into his palm or coat pocket when no one was watching.
Peter would whisper a soft thank you, savouring his share just like the others. He was sure Alice sat near him on purpose, eager to offer a treat. At first, he was shy about it, but soon he grew used to Alices kindness, and his place was always next to her now.
Still, Peter couldnt accept gifts without giving something in return. He began calling on Alice in the afternoons after his work was finished, when Alice would be busy in the garden. Hed always ask the same:
Are your lot at work?
Shed nod, Of course, this time of day theyre all off,
Then Peter would crouch by the beds, swiftly weeding and chatting away with Alice as they worked.
Alice never refused his help and was glad for the company. Afterwards, shed bring a kettle of hot tea and a dish heaped with scones and sweets out to the garden. Peter would make a show of refusing, but Alice held her ground until he accepted a cup and a treat.
Sweets at Peters house were a rarity, usually reserved for Christmas or birthdays, so in his heart he was grateful for Alices generosity.
Peter tried his best at school toonot wanting to fall behind. But lessons came hard to him. Only in sport did he truly shine. So, after his schooldays, he went on to train as a sports coach. Alice, meanwhile, became a nurse.
As they grew up, Alice and Peter saw each other less often, meeting only when they both managed trips home for the holidays. The skinny boy Peter had once been grew into a broad-shouldered young man, while Alice, still as blue-eyed and gentle, was a slender, cheerful presence.
Alice married young, after a dreadful accident took her parents from her. She yearned for comfort, to start a family and leave the sorrow behind.
When Peter heard that Alice had rushed into marriage with John, a lively, outgoing chap from their village, he was surprisedit didnt seem a match. But the new family settled, and a baby boy soon arrived.
Peter was in no hurry to find a wife. Much to his mothers astonishment, he showed real promise as an organiser at the towns sports school, and before long was appointed director of the local sports centre.
By that time Peters sisters had married and moved to town. Alices marriage, however, began to falter.
Thats the way of it for her now, Peters mother would confide. Alices husband is the very image of your late father in his ways. He drinks, disappears for days neither steadies a hand for his child nor his wife. Awful business. I can well imagine how she feels!
Peter would slam his fist on the table.
The scoundrel! Why on earth did she marry him? She had everything before, now only hardship. I remember what our lives were like with father Misery, pure and simple.
His mother would nod:
Yes, he sells everything from the house for drinkher fathers crystal, the old gramophone, even his own belongings, down to the towels. There are always buyers, toofolk know its for drink, yet they still take it…
Does she ever ask for help? Peter demanded.
No, she doesnt borrowbut money is tight for her, very tight. She barely scrapes by, just a pittance for earnings. Nothing from him. A sorry state
Peter would pace the room, clearly brooding. His mother, realising shed perhaps said too much, would plead:
Dont meddle, Peter. Its not our affair. Every home has its shadows. If she stays with him, she must love him still.
But Peter sat his mother down and told her how Alice had fed him all those childhood evenings with seeds and cakes and tea and sweets. He couldnt bear the thought of his old friend suffering, alone with a young son.
What are you planning, Peter? his mother asked anxiously. Dont go after that scoundrelhell never change. I dont want you mixed up with the law over him. Best to help Alice quietly.
Peter nodded, and soon left for town. Two days later, he returned in his motorcar, unloading for his mother sacks and boxesgroceries and bundles of clothing.
Whats all this, Peter? Surely youre not moving back in with me? Oh, itd make me happy, having my own boy under my roof again
Dont be daft, Mum. My work is in town, and Ive a place to live there. I brought these for yousee for yourself. Dont mind the sacks of sunflower seeds. Alice will understand. It wouldnt do for me to hand her gifts myselfgossip would fly. You take what you need, and share the rest quietly with her.
But Peter, what about your sisters? Dont they need something?
You know I send them money for every birthday and Christmasthey want for nothing. Both have good husbands, thank heavens.
Thank heavens indeed, his mother echoed.
I must be off again, Mum. Dont stinthelp Alice, little by little, so the neighbours dont notice. When the treats run out, Ill bring more. If nothing else, youll want for nothing now. Goodbye.
He hugged and kissed his mother and was gone. Left alone, Mrs. Smith (for that was her name) went to the larder. In the sacks, she found the largest, finest sunflower seeds shed ever seen.
My word, wont these make a treat when roasted! she clapped her hands with childlike glee.
There were tins of preserves and meat, bags of flour, sugar, rice and noodles, and a separate packet of sweets. These she placed carefully in the sideboard, shaking her head at Peters generosity.
Hed always spoiled her, bringing gifts of fresh fish on the coach from the coast. But thisthis was something special.
Oh, my dear Peter, you have the kindest heart, she sighed. I only wish your fate would find you at last.
As Peter wished, his mother began visiting Alice in the evenings, carrying a bundle under her coat. Alice was reluctant at first, but when faced with a whole bucket of sunflower seeds, she knew at once who had sent them.
She weptletting the silvery seeds stream through her fingers, before finally saying,
Give Peter my thanks. Just imagineafter all these years. He remembers. Im so grateful to him. Tell him not to fret over us. I petitioned for a divorce weeks ago. Soon, I hope, my misfortune will be over.
Mrs. Smith nodded and returned home, her mind full of thoughts. Now Alice would be a free womanand her son, unmarried
Well, well, what next? she muttered. Could it really be that my Peter will think of marrying her?
Time passed. Mrs. Smith continued to deliver her sons gifts. She and Alice would share tea each time, Alice always apologising and promising to repay the debtonly to be shushed by Mrs. Smith:
Its not for you, but for your little one. If youd turn away such offerings, at least dont deny your boy a bit of kindness. The Lord helps children through the hands of others. So its meant to be
Alices divorce came through, and after a year on her own, she was transformed. Her cheeks grew rosy again; new curtains brightened her windows, and her boylittle Henrywas her mirror image.
Mrs. Smith sometimes sat with Henry, whom the boy already called grandma. Peters visits became more frequent, always bringing Henry new toys. They would gather at Mrs. Smiths, drinking tea, reminiscing about old times, never mentioning Alices marriage, as though those four unhappy years had never happened.
Peter developed a new habit too:
Has Alice been round today? Is Henry at yours, Mum?
Son, you could at least ask after my health first, shed smile.
Sorry, MumHow are you? hed reply, glancing out the window.
All right, dont fuss. Go on, go over. Shes home today, likely waiting. No need to play games. Everyones whispering. Off with you.
Thats always the way, Peter would laugh. You barely think a thought, and the whole village is already matchmaking.
He would embrace his mother suddenly.
What now, my boy? shed smile.
Thank you, Mum. For everything. For always understanding. For letting things be.
Shed cross herself, and as she went to her prayer corner, Peter dashed onto the porch, then slipped back inside to fetch a bouquet of white chrysanthemums from a bag.
Unafraid of wagging tongues, he set off for Alices doorLet them whisper, he thought. Let them talk. Ill show them. He stepped up to the familiar old porch, not realising that Alice herself stood motionless in the darkened parlour, watching through the lace curtains as he brought her flowers, her heart beating with hope for the days to come.
