TO THE BONE… In This Family, Everyone Lived Their Own Separate Lives Dad, Alexander, had not only a wife but a string of girlfriends, rarely the same one twice. Mum, Jane, suspicious of her husband’s affairs, wasn’t exactly a paragon herself, preferring the company of a married coworker to her own household. Their two sons were left to their own devices, with no one really tending to their upbringing, so they spent most days aimlessly drifting. Jane insisted the school bear full responsibility for her boys. On Sundays, the family would gather in the kitchen at the table—only to eat in silence and quickly scatter back to their own worlds. They might have kept stumbling along together in their broken, sinful, but sweet little life, if not for one irreparable tragedy… When their youngest, Denis, turned twelve, Alexander took him to the garage for the first time to help out. As Denis explored the tools, dad popped out to see his car-mad mates nearby. Then suddenly, black smoke and flames poured out from Alexander’s garage. (It turned out later that Denis had accidentally dropped a lit blowtorch onto a petrol can.) Everyone was frozen. No one knew what to do. Flames roared. Someone threw a bucket of water over Alexander, and he dashed inside. Seconds later he emerged from the inferno, carrying his unconscious son. Denis was horribly burned, only his face unharmed—he’d shielded it with his hands. His clothes were gone. Fire and ambulance crews were called. Denis was still alive. He was rushed into surgery. Hours crawled by. The doctor finally appeared: “We’re doing everything we can. Right now your son is in a coma. His chances of survival are one in a million. Medically, there’s nothing more we can do. But if Denis has an indomitable will to live—there may be a miracle. Stay strong.” Alexander and Jane rushed to the local church as a storm broke overhead. Soaked and terrified, they entered for the first time in their lives. Approaching the priest, Father Simon, in tears, Jane begged for help. “Father, our son is dying! What do we do?” Father Simon, with his piercing gaze, didn’t mince words: “So, you only turn to God in times of trouble, eh? Are you very sinful?” “Not really… we haven’t killed anyone,” Alexander mumbled, eyes downcast. “Ah, but you’ve murdered your love. It lies dead at your feet. Between husband and wife, nothing should come between—but you’ve allowed a gap wide enough for a log to pass through! Pray, children, pray to Saint Nicholas for your son’s health. Pray hard—but remember, it’s all God’s will. Sometimes He shakes us to our senses. Otherwise, you won’t understand. All can be saved by love!” Sobbing, dripping from the rain and their own tears, Alexander and Jane knelt before Saint Nicholas’s icon, praying, weeping, vowing… All affairs were ended, scrubbed clean from memory. Their lives were re-examined in every painful detail. The next morning, a doctor rang: Denis had come out of the coma. Alexander and Jane were by his bedside when he woke, attempted a smile through his agony, and whispered, “Mum, Dad, please promise you won’t split up.” “Darling, why would we? We’re here together,” Jane whispered, gently taking his burnt hand, making him flinch. “I saw it, Mum! And one day my children will bear your names,” Denis continued. His parents exchanged glances—clearly, he was delirious. Kids, when you can’t even move a finger, why talk of your own children? Just survive first! But from that moment, Denis started to recover. They sold their countryside cottage; shame the garage and car had gone up in flames with everything else, or those too could have paid for Denis’s treatment. But nothing mattered except that he was alive. The family, including grandparents, rallied around him. Adversity had pulled them together. Even the longest day must end. A year later, Denis was in a rehab centre. He could walk and manage on his own. There, he grew close to Masha, a girl his age, also burned in a fire—but only her face. Multiple surgeries left Masha self-conscious, terrified of her reflection, but Denis was drawn to her warmth and wisdom beyond her years. They spent all their spare time together, united by shared pain and healing, supporting each other beyond words. Time passed… Denis and Masha had a simple wedding; soon, two beautiful children followed: a daughter, Charlotte, and three years later, a son, Eugene. Just when the family could finally breathe easy, Alexander and Jane decided to separate. The long ordeal had exhausted them. They needed peace, and, ironically, found it apart. Jane moved in with her sister in the suburbs, visiting the church for Father Simon’s blessing one last time. She’d often thanked him for saving her son, but he’d always corrected her: “Thank God, Jane.” Father Simon disapproved of her leaving. “If you must go, rest and find peace—but remember, husband and wife are one. Return, Jane!” Alexander stayed alone in their empty flat. The sons and their families lived elsewhere, former spouses visiting grandchildren at carefully staggered times. And so, in the end, everyone finally found their own kind of comfort…

Let me tell you about this family, mate they were proper distant with each other, you know? Each of them had their own thing going on. John, the dad, besides his wife Mary, always seemed to have a special lady somewhere on the side, and honestly, it wasnt always the same one. Mary, no angel herself, kind of knew about Johns affairs and wasnt much better she liked sneaking out for evenings with a married fella from work. Their two boys, William and Charlie, were just left to get on with it themselves nobody really bothered raising them. Most of the time, the lads just wandered about doing nothing. Mary always said it was the schools problem, not hers.

Pretty much the only time they sat together was on Sundays, round the kitchen table, scoffing down a roast in silence before they all scarpered off to do their own thing. Thats just how things rolled for them their messy, selfish sort of world they thought was sweet, until the day something truly awful happened.

When Charlie, the younger son, turned twelve, John took him to his lock-up for the first time, like some sort of rite of passage, I suppose. John just wanted a hand, and while Charlie was poking around all the tools, John nipped off for a quick chinwag with the petrolheads next door, who were always tinkering with their bangers.

The next thing anyone knew, thick black smoke started billowing out from Johns lock-up, then the flames started leaping out. No one had a clue what was going on. (They found out later that Charlie had accidentally knocked a switched-on blowtorch onto a jerry can of petrol.) For a second, everyone just froze. Then they started to panic the blaze was getting out of control. Without thinking, someone chucked a bucket of water over John, and straight away, he dashed inside. Everyone just stopped breathing for a moment. Seconds later, John came staggering back, clutching Charlie in his arms. The poor kid wasnt moving, covered in burns. Somehow, his face was untouched probably covered his face with his hands. All his clothes were gone, just burnt away.

Thank God someone had already rung 999. The fire brigade and ambulance screamed up, and they rushed Charlie off to hospital. He was alive, but God, it was touch and go.

They took him straight to surgery. The wait was torturous. Finally, a doctor came out, all serious:
Were doing absolutely everything we can. Right now, your sons in a coma. His odds are a million to one. Theres not much medicine can do. If theres to be a miracle, itll be because your Charlie fights harder than anyone ever has before. Be strong.

John and Mary didnt even think they just legged it to the local church, and by then the heavens had opened, pouring down buckets. Wet through and completely dazed, the two of them staggered into the church, barely noticing anything around them. They just wanted to save their son.

Standing there, dripping and weepy, they spotted the vicar. They walked up, Mary in tears,
Vicar, our boy is dying! What should we do? Please, help us!
My children, Im Father Richard. Funny how folk only seem to come to God in a crisis, isnt it? Tell me, have you sinned much? he asked without missing a beat.

John shrugged, Nothing serious. Never killed anyone He couldnt meet Father Richards eyes.

But youve killed your love, havent you? Its lying there dead between you. For a married couple, there shouldnt be space for even a thread between you but you two could fit a whole tree trunk and still not touch. Oh, people

Pray, my children, for your boys health, to Saint Nicholas! Pray with all your heart. But remember, its all in Gods hands. Dont curse Him! Sometimes He has to give you a proper jolt to make you see things clearly. Otherwise, youll ruin your own souls and never realise until its too late. Fix yourselves love can save all things!

John and Mary, rain-soaked and devastated, listened to Father Richards hard truths, feeling much like stray, embarrassed ducklings. It was a pitiful sight, really. Father Richard pointed to a little icon of Saint Nicholas in the corner. They dropped to their knees, praying desperately, sobbing, making all sorts of promises.

That was it for the secret affairs they were done, forgotten for good. They looked back over their lives, picked it apart, stitch by stitch.

The next morning, the phone rang Charlie had woken from his coma.

John and Mary were there in a flash, sitting by his hospital bed. Charlie opened his eyes, saw them, and tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. His face was frozen in pain.

Mum, Dad please, dont split up, Charlie whispered, barely audible.

What makes you say that, love? Were right here together, Mary replied, gently touching his burning, limp hand. Charlie winced and yelped, so Mary quickly pulled away.

I saw it, Mum! And my children will have your names, Charlie mumbled.

John and Mary exchanged worried looks they thought Charlie must be talking nonsense, what with the pain and all. Honestly, they just wanted him to survive. He was so weak, even lifting a finger was beyond him.

But Charlie started getting better from then on. John and Mary put everything time and money into his recovery. They even sold the allotment to pay the bills. The lock-up and car were a total write-off from the fire, but none of that mattered because their son was alive. The grandparents all chipped in, any way they could. The whole family actually came together for once, pulled in tight.

Even the longest day has to end, right?

A year passed. Charlie was at a rehab centre, getting better. He could walk again and look after himself. There, he made friends with Sophie, a girl his age whod also been caught in a fire. But in her case, only her face was burned.

Sophie had been through surgery after surgery, scared of her own reflection, never looked in a mirror just couldnt face it. Charlie really warmed to her. She gave off something special, gentle but wise beyond her years. He wanted to look after her, protect her.

Every spare minute, those two stuck together. Theyd both suffered through agony, despair, armfuls of bitter medicine, gotten used to needles and hospital gowns They shared so much, could talk for hours and still have more to say.

Time ticked by as it does Eventually, Charlie and Sophie had a small, simple wedding. They went on to have two beautiful children first a daughter, Alice, then a son, James, three years later.

Just as the whole family were starting to finally breathe easily, John and Mary called it a day. Everything theyd been through with Charlie just wore them out they couldnt go on as a couple. They both just needed peace, away from each other.

Mary moved in with her sister in the outskirts. On her way out of town, she stopped in at the church for Father Richards blessing. Over the past years, shed often come by to thank him for saving her son, but Father Richard would gently correct her:
Thank the Lord, Mary! Its His doing.

Father Richard didnt like her leaving.
But if you must be away, go on. Sometimes solitude is good for the soul. But come back, you hear? Husband and wife are meant to be whole together, he gently advised.

John, meanwhile, stayed in the old flat, alone. Their sons lived with their own families nearby. John and Mary made sure to visit the grandkids separately, always avoiding bumping into each other.

And, well everyone finally found a bit of peace in their own way.