I remember the day Mary arrived in Willowbrook with her little daughter clutched in her arms. She stepped off the coach, looked up at the sign that read Willowbrook Village, and breathed in the fresh country air.
Ethel! a tearstreaked voice called out. It was her grandmother, Agnes, a silverhaired woman wrapped in a white kerchief. Come here, love. Give me the baby.
The villagers glanced curiously at the unfamiliar pair, but Agnes and Mary hurried past, lugging a battered suitcase without a second thought. When they reached the old cottage, Agnes slammed the gate shut and rushed inside.
Emily! (the name Mary had given the older girl) the little one sobbed, hugging Ethel tightly at the kitchen table. Marys own tears flowed unabated.
Ive run away from my husband, Gran! she wailed. Hes a nightmarealways shouting, ordering, threatening to take our child away. I cant breathe next to him, I cant even laugh. Im exhausted.
Agnes stared at her granddaughter, her brow knotting. Only three years of marriage and its already in pieces. The worlds a different place these days.
Mary wiped her cheeks, lifted her head and faced Agnes. Gran if you cant understand me, Ill leave. I left my own mother for the same reasonshe never got me, kept nagging, saying I should endure a bad husband. How am I supposed to live if Im constantly crushed?
Agnes kept her frown but wrapped her arms around Mary, smoothing her hair. Stay, love. If you dont want to, I wont force you. Ive got a small room left, and youll have this cottage all to yourself. My dear, my beautiful girl
Mary, a city girl, soon forgot the hustle of London. Rumours swirled through the hamlet that Mary had once married a thiefa tale she unintentionally fed. She fled with a suitcase and a baby to hide, but she kept her dignity, finding work delivering post. Her downtoearth nature won the villagers over.
The Browns are a friendly lot, the locals would say. Always ready to help, always smiling.
One afternoon, while Mary tended the garden, she showed Ethel how to pick berries. Dont be shy, dear. You can eat these strawberriesred ones, yellow ones. And those are blackberries.
A spry black dog with white patches emerged from the hedgerow, perked up his ear, and gave a friendly bark. What a lovely dog, Mary laughed.
Soon a curlyhaired boy appeared over the fence. Tom! called a gravelly voice, and an elderly man shuffled up. Good afternoon, Mary replied.
Tom, a few years older than Ethel, edged closer, his small hands reaching for the berries. Mary beckoned him, Come over, lad. We have plenty of fruit. And Ethel will be delighted to play with you.
The old man, Toms grandfather, leaned on the fence and said, I didnt know you had a little girl, Mary. Tom has no friends; he wanders the yard alone. Were lucky to have Spot, our dog.
Mary smiled, Ethel gets lonely. Come over, Tom.
Tom didnt need a second invitation; he slipped through the fences gap, Spot bounding after him. The children became fast friends, their laughter echoing until dusk.
John, Toms father, visited on weekends. He gave Mary a lingering look, brought flowers and small gifts, and took her to the river in his battered Austin. Agnes approved. Good lad, John. He left his wifeshe was unfaithfultook his son, raised Tom himself. Hardworking, never drinks, lives in the city because of his job and a flat.
Mary felt a flutter for John, but fear gnawed at herwhat if her estranged husband resurfaced? Legally, he was still her spouse.
Ill wait for you, Mary, John promised. Whenever youre ready, Ill bring you back to the city.
Im leaving tomorrow, John said one evening, his eyes meeting hers. Can you look after Tom? My fathers grown old; Im afraid he wont keep an eye on him. Taking Tom to the city is riskyhis exwife circles us, hoping for a claim.
Ill mind him, Mary replied, smiling. Go safely, love, and dont worry.
Years slipped by. Agnes grew frail, and Mary cared for her, feeding her from a spoon; Ethel started school. No word came from Marys former husband, and she finally settled into a quiet routine. Tom grew into a mischievous lad, often skipping school, while his grandfather fell ill and stopped venturing out.
Mary shuttled between two cottages, looking after the elderly. John still visited on weekends, bringing jars of homegrown vegetables piled into his boot. Their meetings became rarer, his visits thinner, his face more lined.
One evening, Mary overheard Johns sighs: Mary, my mortgage takes every penny. I cant even afford a pair of trousers for the boy.
She answered gently, I understand, John. Take care of yourself, stay warm, keep your hat on. Well manage here.
Johns words lifted his spirits, and he left with a lighter step.
Later, a heated argument erupted in Marys yard. Ethel! Come here, you little scamp! she shouted.
What do you want? Ethel retorted, lounging on the steps.
Its the henhouse, Mary gestured. I just stepped out, and look whats happened.
Whats happened? the teenager snapped.
Cant you see, Ethel? Someones been rummaging through the chickens.
Yes, because I was busy getting ready for my lessons, Ethel huffed, puffing her lips.
The hens are all dead. Someone must have let the dogs in.
It was me, Gran, I didnt lock the coop, Mary muttered, tears slipping.
The garden was a mess: trampled rows, a broken fence, the whole barrier leaning askew.
Tom, I need to talk, Mary called, climbing through the hole. Tom stood tall with a friend beside him. She paused by the dogs shed, peering inside. Spot looks fullbodied. Is he well fed now?
What are you on about, Aunt Mary? Tom sneered. Talking to the dogs now?
Tom laughed, Your dog smashed my henhouse.
It wasnt Spot, Tom snapped, our chickens run free around the yard; Spot never touches them.
Mary stared, bewildered. How had the cheeky curlyboy become such a cold teenager?
Occasionally Mary phoned her own mother, who sounded distant. Mary, whats wrong? Im busy, she would say.
What are you busy with, Mum? Your new family? Your stepdads health? Or the grandchildren?
Theyre not strangers to me, her mother replied. If you keep talking like that, forget you ever had a mother.
We both know I have none, Mary whispered. So stop calling.
Fine, dont call again, the line clicked.
Frustrated, Mary finally snapped, If you think Ill come back to you, youre dreaming.
She saved up, packed a bag, and boarded a coach back to London, hoping to surprise John. She learned his flats address from Tom, walked straight from the station, and knocked. A young woman opened the door.
Yes, were the Clarks. Im here with John, she said.
Who are you to him? Mary asked, eyes darting.
His wife, of course, the girl replied, smiling slyly.
Mary felt a cold rush and fled. John arrived in the village that weekend, called her out, and tried to speak calmly.
Whats this, Mary? I live with my partner nowwhy should I waste time with the past?
How could you? she sobbed, stammering.
John sneered, Enough of this drama. Ive had my fill of my first wifes tricks. Go home, Mary. Ive got to get back to the city.
Their neighbours relations soured. Toms grandfather complained, his voice hoarse, while his own motherinlaw, Mrs. Harper, brought her grandchildren for the summer, and they trampled Marys garden, stealing berries.
Ethel, wrap your scarf tight, Mary called. Ethel, my head hurts, turn the music down.
My head always hurts, Ethel answered. Take a pill.
Ethel, we need to pick the raspberries. The neighbours will leave us nothing otherwise.
Do it yourself, I wont eat jam, Ethel retorted.
Mary felt something crack inside her. She spent hours at the broken fence, pulling up the splintered wood, tying new planks with rope. Each day it collapsed again, and she rebuilt it.
John stopped coming to Willowbrook altogether. Tom finished school, and Mary found a strange peace without the constant strain of a husband.
One night, Ethel, now quieter, slipped into Marys arms and held her tightly. She seemed older, more grownup. Mum, I need advice, she whispered. I feel sick in the mornings, no strength, and food makes me queasy. My mood swings every minute.
You should see a doctor, Mary suggested. Youre not pregnant, right?
Looks like it, Ethel said, eyes wide.
At the clinic, the nurse asked, Whos the father?
Tom, Ethel blurted. I never thought it could happen.
Mary burst into tears, but steadied herself. Well sort this out, she said, wiping her eyes.
They left the clinic, but the Browns gate was shut. Only Mrs. Harpers gnarled hand appeared in the window, giving a warning finger. Mary slipped back through the fences hole and called, Tom!
Tom stood with a friend, laughing, Aunt Marys gone mad, jumping fences.
Tom, I need to speak with you. Send your friend away and come with me, Mary urged.
Their grandfather, hearing the commotion, rushed out. He wont go anywhere, Mary. Talk here!
Mr. Clarke, youre still walking? Mary asked, bewildered.
I can walk and, if needed, I can strike. I know what youre planning, dear. If you try to tie Tom up like a leash, youll find the forests thick enough for both of us.
Marys anger flared. So youre saying I should stop meddling in a girls life, but youll let a boy run free?
Exactly, the old man retorted, his voice booming. You Gibbons always think you own everyones hearts.
Mary turned away, feeling humbled. Dont break Ethels life if you love her. She needs us.
She walked away with her head held high.
Later, in a dream, Agnes whispered, Let it go, Mary.
When Mary returned from a trip with a respectable gentleman, Ethel set aside her book and ran to meet him. Mum, this is your father, the man said.
Dad? Where did you find him? Ethel asked, eyes wide.
The man stared at the girl, Shes grown up fast Im sorry, Mary, but you stole my daughter, you should be judged.
Life has punished me enough, Leonard, Mary shrugged.
The whole village of Willowbrook buzzed about Marys former lover, now labelled a bandit because hed brought a huge guard dog that lunged at Spot. I saw it from my window! shouted Old Mr. Hargreaves. No proof thoughmaybe it was a camera?
Spot was badly battered, his ear torn, but the biggest injury was to the Clarks morale; the dog cowered in his kennel, trembling, refusing to leave.
The hounds owner, Leonard, tried to call the police, but the villages constable was already on his way. Tom emerged from the bandits van, a woman in a white dress stepping out behind him.
Tom, were heading to the city restaurant, dont lose me, the woman called.
Tom stared at Leonard, pale. Granddad, you never said youd take Kat? he protested.
You didnt say that! Leonard shouted, Dont come onto my property, you foolish boy!
Leonards dog barked, leapt, and the old man slipped into the fences hole, shrieking in terror.
Back at the restaurant, Tom answered his new fatherinlaws questions. Leonard, a stern man, asked, Did you ever intend to marry?
No, I love Kat, Tom replied, Id have gone to the register as soon as I turned eighteen.
The old man disapproves? Leonard asked.
Yes, hes a stubborn old codger, Tom answered.
Mary intervened, Enough, Tom.
The couple were quickly married on the spot after confirming Kats pregnancy. Mary watched, shaking her head, thinking, Will they survive under pressure?
Leonard built a tall, solid fence around Marys garden, sparing no expense. Now, Mary, the Clarks cant trouble you any more, he said, patting her hand.
He brushed a strand of hair from his exwifes face, Will you come with me, Mary?
No, she replied, You have your own woman. Ive got my grown daughter now.
Two rivers dont run through the same stone twice, he muttered, not taking it to heart.
Mary and Kat sat on the porch, arms around each other. Youve hurt me, Mum, Kat whispered.
No harm done, Mary said, Youre my Gibbons, and the Gibbons are always kind. I waited for you to become a person.
Mum, if Tom ever hurts you, Ill kick him out myself.
Let him try, Kat. Were more than enough for each other.
John knocked on the door one weekday, Mary! Open up!
What do you want? she asked.
They say you married my son, Tom. Who gave you permission?
Do we need permission for this? Mary replied, I raised your boy; Im not a stranger to him.
Ive decided to take Tom back to the city.
He wont leave his wife. Besides, your flat is a onebedroom, and your girl will protest, Mary retorted.
John lowered his head, Ive got nobody else now.
Dont be so dramatic, Mary said, Well see each other at the grandchildrens school soon.
She turned away, arms crossed. Never again. You Gibbons always use each others feelings. From now on, my son stays here, and you go your way. I dont need you.
Dont be foolish, John snapped, but the gate slammed shut with a resonant clang, leaving him on the other side.
