Margaret was judged in our village the very day her belly began to show beneath her cardigan. At forty-two, and a widow, no less! What a disgrace!
It had been ten years since her husband, Thomas, was buried in St. Marys churchyard, and nowjust look at that! She was to bring a child into the world.
Whose is it? the women hissed by the old well.
Who can say? theyd reply with a knowing nod. Quiet she is, modest… and yet, you see how its turned out! Carried on, she has.
Her daughters are both of agemeanwhile, their mothers gallivanting? Shameful!
Margaret kept her eyes fixed on the dusty lane. Shed trudge home from the post office, her heavy canvas bag weighing down her shoulder, lips pressed into a thin line.
Had she known how things would turn out, perhaps shed never have become tangled in it. But how could she stand by, when it was her own flesh and blood weeping bitter tears?
The tale didn’t start with Margaret, but rather with her daughter, Alice…
Aliceshe was never just a girl, but more like a painting come to life. The very image of her late father, Thomas. Hed been the most handsome man in the village: golden hair, bright blue eyes. Alice was born the same.
The whole parish watched her as she grew. Her younger sister, Sarah, took after Margaretdark-haired, brown-eyed, quiet and serious, blending into the background.
Margaret cherished her girls more than life itself. Alone, she kept the household afloatby day at the post office, scrubbing in the dairy at night. Everything she did, she did for them.
You must study hard, shed tell them. You wont live your life in drudgery as I do, lugging this bag about. Go to the citymake something of yourselves.
And so, Alice left for the city with little fuss. Shed been accepted into the College of Commerce, where she was noticed at once.
Shed send photos home: herself at restaurants, dressed in the latest fashion, her new sweetheart on her arma well-connected young man, the son of some official. Mum, hes promised me a fur coat! shed write.
Margaret was proud. Sarah grew sullen. After school, she stayed in the village, working as a ward assistant at the hospital. Shed wished to train as a nurse, but there wasnt the money.
Every penny of the widows pension and Margarets wages went to Alices city life.
***
That summer, Alice came homenot boisterous and glamorous, bearing gifts, but quiet, pale as a sheet.
She hardly left her room for two days, and on the third, Margaret found her sobbing into her pillow.
Mum… Mum… its all over for me…
She told everything. Her precious fiancé had abandoned her after a short, merry spell. And now, she was four months along.
Its too late for anything… Mum! What am I to do? He doesn’t want to know me. If I have this child, he wont give me a shilling. Theyll throw me out of college. My life… is over!
Margaret sat as if struck by lightning.
You… you werent careful, love?
What difference does it make now! Alice cried. What now? The workhouse for it? Leave it in the woods?
Margarets heart nearly stopped. How could she send her grandchild away, to an orphanage?
That night, Margaret didnt sleep. She wandered the cottage like a ghost, until just before dawn, when she sat on Alices bed.
Its all right, she said firmly. Well see it through.
Mum! How? The whole village will find out! Well be shamed!
No one will know, Margaret said flatly. Well say… its mine.
Alice stared, uncomprehending.
Yours? Mum, do you even hear yourself? Youre forty-two!
Mine, Margaret repeated. Ill go stay with Aunt Edna by the town, say Im helping about. Ill have the baby there, stay a while. You return to the citygo back to your studies.
Sarah, in her little room just separated by a thin wall, heard every word. She clutched her pillow, crying silent, bitter tearsgrieved for her mother, disgusted by her sister.
***
A month later, Margaret left for her aunts. The village gossiped a bit, then moved on. Six months after, Margaret returnednot alone, but with a baby, wrapped in a blue shawl.
Here, Sarah, she said to her pale daughter. Meet your brother… Michael.
The village gasped. So quiet Margaret, eh? Widow, at her age!
Whos the father? the whispering began again. Was it the vicar?
No, too old. Has to be the land manager! Hes a fine man, widower!
Margaret kept her silence, bearing the scandal. Life became a trial. Baby Michael was a restless, hollering thing. Margaret was worn to the bone.
Between the post, the dairy, and now sleepless nightsshe had nothing left. Sarah did what she could: washing nappies, rocking the brother without a word, while bitterness brewed inside.
Letters came from Alice. Mummy, how are you? I do miss you! I havent got any money to send, times are hardbut soon I will!
After a year, a money order arrivedone thousand pounds. And a pair of jeans for Sarah, much too small.
Margaret soldiered on, Sarah at her side. Sarahs life, too, drifted off course. Local lads courted her, but never stayed. Who wanted a fiancée with such baggage? A fallen mother, a bastard brother.
Mum, Sarah said once, now twenty-five. Should we just tell the truth?
No, my love! Margaret cried, frightened. Wed ruin Alice! Shes… married now. To a good man.
And indeed, Alice had sorted herself out. She finished college, married a businessman, moved to London.
She sent back photos: on the Nile, in Istanbul, posing as a city socialite. No word for her brother. Margaret wrote instead: Michaels started school. Top marks, clever boy.
Alice would reply with some expensive, utterly useless trinket for the village.
And so, the years spun by. Now Michael turned eighteen.
He grew into a fine young man. Tall, blue-eyedlike Alice. Cheerful, hard-working, devoted to Mum and Sarah.
Sarah had gotten used to things by then. Shed become a senior nurse at the district hospital. Old maid, people muttered. Shed given up on hopeher life was her mothers and Michaels.
Michael finished school with honours.
Mum! Ill go to Londonapply for uni! he vowed.
Margarets heart trembled. London… where Alice lived.
What about Kings, here in the county? she asked, tentative.
Nonsense, Mum! I need to make my way! Ill build you and Sarah a palace, just you wait!
On the day Michael sat his last exam, a gleaming black motorcar pulled up at their gate.
Out stepped… Alice. Margaret gasped. Sarah, fetching washing in the yard, froze with a towel in hand.
Alice, pushing forty, looked as if shed stepped out of a magazine: slim, dressed to the nines, dripping in gold.
Mum! Sarah! Hello! she sang, kissing a stunned Margaret on the cheek. And wheres…
She saw Michael, wiping his hands on a rag, stepping out of the shed.
Alice faltered. She stared, transfixed, then suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears.
Hello, Michael said politely. Youre Alice, arent you? My… sister?
Yessister, Alice echoed hollowly. Mum, we need to talk.
They sat in the parlour.
Mum… Ive got everything. House, money, a husband… but no children. She started weeping, make-up streaking down her face. Weve tried it all… treatments, doctors. No use. My husbands angry. I cant bear it anymore.
Why have you come, Alice? Sarah asked in a low voice.
Alices tear-streaked face turned to her.
Ive come… for my son.
Are you mad? What son?!
Mum, please! Alice raised her voice. Hes mine! I gave birth to him! I can give him a real life! Ive got connections, he could attend any university! My husband agrees, Ive told him everything!
Told him? Margaret gasped. But did you tell him about us? About the disgrace I suffered? About Sarah?
Sarah! Shes sat in this village her whole life and will go on sitting! But Michaelhe has a shot! Mum, give him to me! You saved me oncethank you, Mum! Now, give me back my son!
Hes not a possession to return! Margaret shouted. Hes mine! I was up nights raising him! I taught him, nursed him…!
Just then Michael entered the sitting room. Hed heard it all. He stood in the doorway, white as the wall.
Mum? Sarah? Whats going on? What… son?
Michael! Son! Im your mother! You understand? Your real mother!
He looked at her as one might gaze on a spectre. Then he turned to Margaret.
Mum… is it true?
Margaret covered her face and began to sob. Sarah exploded at last.
The quiet, patient Sarah strode over and struck Alice across the face, hard enough to knock her back against the wall.
You wretch! Sarah screamed, years of bitterness and hurt boiling over. A mother?! What sort of mother leaves her own like a stray pup? Did you know our mother couldnt show her face for years because of you? That Ibecause of your mistakewas left with nothing? No husband, no child! And you… you come back, to take him away?!
Sarah, please! Margaret whispered.
No, Mum! Enough! Weve endured enough! Sarah turned to Michael. Yesthats your mother, who palmed you off to mine so she could chase her city life! And Margaret, shes your grandmother! Shes given up everything for you both!
Michael stood silent for a long time. Then he knelt before Margaret, clutching her hands.
Mum, he whispered. Mummy.
He raised his head, looked at Alice, clutching her cheek against the wall.
I havent a mother in London, Michael said quietly but firmly. My mother is here. And so is my sister.
He stood and took Sarahs hand.
As for youAunt Alice… please go.
Michael! Son! Alice wailed, reaching out. I can give you everything!
I have all I need, Michael replied. I have a wonderful family. And you… have nothing.
***
Alice left that very evening. Her husband, watching from the car, stayed seated, never stepping out.
Some say within a year, he left her for another womanone who bore him children. And Alice was left alone, with her wealth and her fading beauty.
Michael never went to London. He applied to the county college, studied engineering.
Im needed here, Mum. Well build ourselves a new house, he said.
As for Sarah, wellafter that night, it was as if a great weight lifted from her. She blossomed, even at thirty-eight.
The land manager, the very one at the root of so many village whispers over the years, started to look at her differentlya fine man, and a widower himself.
Margaret would watch them now, tears in her eyesof happiness, at last. They all had their burdens, but a mothers heart… well, it can bear anything.
