Two wives
The childless croneshes not even a crone any more, just halfacrone, my motherinlaw would say, Milly sighed and forced a bitter smile.
Dont listen to her, snapped the halfdeaf old neighbour, Ethel, loudly, because God knows what Hes doing. Its too early for you to bear a child, He sees everything ahead.
But, Ethel how does He see? Weve been married five years. I want a baby so badly, Millys cheeks filled with tears.
She rarely spoke the ache aloud; it lay hidden in her heart. Now she had returned to the little village of Littleford, ten miles from her childhood home, to visit her mothers grave and sit with the old, halfdeaf neighbour for a chat.
Its a sad business but we are not the ones who find children, they find us. Be patient, girl.
The remaining dogs in the village barked, sparrows chattered. The familiar sounds of the countryside had faded. Littleford, in the county of Devon, was almost a ghost, its sagging cottages leaning toward the river as if bowing one last farewell.
Milly headed home to her husband in the larger parish of Ivors End. She had to leave Littleford at dawn. All her life she feared the night woods and fieldsa childish terror.
Milly was born in that part of the country. Six years ago she was left alone. Her father died after the war, and her mother passed away young. She took work as a milkmaid on the local collective farm.
When she met her future husband, it was June. It was Millys seventeenth summer and her first on the farm. The walk was far, but she ran gladly, even though her hands ached from the hard milking at first.
One morning a slanting rain caught her on the road. The sky darkened, clouds rolled in, a low rumble shook the air. Everything seemed tilted, leaning to one side.
Milly ducked under the leanto at the edge of the village near the woods. She sat on the wooden bench, pulling the long black strands of her hair into a braid, squeezing out the rain. Through the angled sheets of rain she saw a darkhaired boy in a buttoned shirt and trousers rolled to his knees. He slipped under the leanto, saw her and flashed a grin:
What a gift! Im Nicholas, and you are?
Millys heart hammered; the world was dark with the slanting rain. She stayed silent, edging back on the bench.
Thunder knocked you out? Or are you mute from birth? he teased.
Not mute. Millys my name.
Cold? Need heat? he continued, keeping his distance, The rain has knocked everything flat. Im from MTS.
He kept joking, then pressed close enough to make Millys skin prickle. Her blouse stuck to her skinperhaps it stirred him, or maybe he was simply overly affectionate. Milly bolted into the rain, fleeing on all fours, glancing back as she ran.
The forest, heavy with hanging clouds, seemed frightening.
Later Nicholas Nikiforov came to the farm as a temporary herdsman. Milly looked at him with a flash of resentment, then he began to court her seriously. That meeting left a mark.
Milly slipped into marriage with joy, though she could not picture what awaited her in her husbands household and in a foreign village. Her motherinlaw turned out to be stern and ill. She gladly shifted some chores to her daughterinlaw but watched everything keenly.
Although life was harsh at times, Milly never despaired. She was diligent and strongwilledonly the reproaches from her motherinlaw pricked her. After all, she had arrived as a penniless orphan, no dowry, no family wealth.
After a while the motherinlaw softened, seeing Millys competence. The other nags fell away; Milly did not carry them. A year passed, then another, and no pregnancy came.
Youre a spoiled thing, you childless crone the motherinlaw snappedWhats a house without grandchildren?
Milly wept into Nicholass shoulder; he scolded his mother, who grew angrier. She stayed silent, sighing. Her husband only looked at Milly when she placed a bowl before him.
But Milly never lost hope. She visited the village nurse herself, slipped to the neighboring parish to see the parish priest, brewed decoctions that the local midwives swore would cure barrenness.
Life moved on. The Nikiforov home was not the poorest, though postwar times were lean. One early morning Nicholas brought half a sack of damp grain.
Oh, Colin, oh, no need to Mother shoutedDont let them hear!
Everyones pulling, Im not alone. Calm down, Mum Nicholas replied.
Milly worried, urging Nicholas not to get involved in such petty dealings, but he persisted, bringing scraps from the collective farm.
Millys nights grew restless. She sat on the bed in the dark, legs drawn up, waiting for her husband.
One night she gathered a skirt, a shirt, a thick coat, found rubber boots hidden under the bed, grabbed a canvas coat, and stepped onto the porch. A sharp November wind slammed the open doors, icy rain lashing her face.
Where was he, lingering in this storm? Her feet carried her to the edge of the village. The windows were dark, even the dogs had hidden. Her loyal puppy, Fen, whined at her heels. Milly walked, eyes scanning the road, until she stopped before an old barn at the villages fringe.
Beyond it lay only field. The night field and woods had always frightened her. She decided to wait a while, then return.
Rain hammered the cold, damp earth, sometimes roaring, sometimes a steady drum. Through the sound she heard a faint womans giggle from the barn. She strained to listen and recognized Nicholass voice. At first she felt relief, then a chillhe was not alone.
The rain sometimes muffled, sometimes carried voices. She heard a female voiceit was Poppy, the girl from the neighboring village who worked with her on the farm.
At first Poppy had been bold, cheerful, talkative, dreaming of leaving the village for the city to earn money.
Go home, bake, work, and the lads will sing, shed croon. Im the only daughter, a proper lass! Ill find a city, a rich fool, I wont stay on a farm, a silly thing!
Lately, however, Poppys spirit dimmed. She stopped teasing the other girls, grew huskier, and whispers floated that she was nursing a secret lovers jealousy. Milly assumed the city had called her, but could not picture that the lover was Nicholas.
Foamlike rain streamed down the lanes, and a stunned Milly lingered by the barn. Then, a sudden burst of Poppys bright laughter cut through the gloom. She bolted home, stumbling over the familiar, uneven path, her skirta repurposed army cloakcaught in the mud.
She burst into the house and began scrubbing in the washout, a basin clanking. She washed furiously, her mind replaying the laugh, the whisper of her husbands voice to another.
Well wash this grime, Fen, she murmured to the puppy.
All that remained in the home was love for each other, yet even that seemed absent. Perhaps because she never truly saw the picture of love with her own eyes, only heard it in the rains roar, or perhaps because a womans hope runs deep, Milly refused to believe in betrayal.
When Nicholas peeked into the washroom, she said nothing. She resolved to wait until morning.
At dawn two policemen and the collective farms chairman arrived. Motherinlaw wailed, clinging to the chair of the chairmans coat. The farms directors son escorted his son silently, glancing at the unexpected guests. Milly hurried, gathering her husband, lifting the despondent motherinlaw from the floor.
Fourteen villagers were taken away to the council office. A crowd gathered at the council walls until noon, passing sacks and parcels. At lunch a lorry arrived, loading all the arrested in the back and driving them away, saying they were to stand trial in the city.
Milly turned, and beyond the birch trees stood Poppy, pale in the distance.
The arrest shook the whole village, but nobody spoke of it, hiding behind their thatched cottages. Motherinlaw sank into her grief, fatherinlaw withered. Milly had not slept for days.
She never resolved anything with Nicholas; she remained neither fully wife nor abandoned. Yet now pity and fear for her husband outweighed resentment and jealousy. She could not run away; a wife of an arrested man would not be welcomed elsewhere. Divorce was never spoken of.
Weeks later Milly, exhausted, returned from the farm carrying milk when she opened her door and saw Poppy sitting at the table, hands folded beneath a swollen belly. In front of them sat her parentsinlaw. Poppy stared straight, clicking her tongue, while the elders bowed their heads.
Good day, Poppy sang.
And may you stay well, Milly answered.
Milly, the motherinlaw said warmly, Poppy used to visit the city, see our relativesOlga, Nina, their father, and Vas, their brother.
Milly set a bucket of milk on the stove, washed her hands at the slab, listened.
Milly, the trial gave our boy ten pounds! Think about it, her motherinlaw handed a handkerchief, pressed it to her eyes and wept.
Milly dropped onto the bench.
Whatten?
They said theyre state criminals, everyone got ten years. They tried us all in one sweep.
Lord! Milly gasped, disbelief in her voice.
Her motherinlaw wept; Milly tried to soothe her:
Mother, it cant be. Maybe theyll change their minds, maybe theyll let us go theyll scare us then release us, Milly hoped.
Wholl free them now? Foolish girl! Now its by stages. They tried us by law, Poppy declared, confident.
They talked more about the trial, then fell silent, only the fatherinlaws tea clinking from his cup.
Listen! Poppy slapped the table, making everyone jump, and shouted, If the owners stay silent, Ill say: Colin intended to marry me. He wanted to divorce you, but didnt have time. So, Ill have a child with him. I wont raise it alone. My father wont let me return home with a child, hes heard the storm. I thought wed marry, hed forgive. But look how it turned So Im here to ask you to look after his grandson. Colin and I talked in the city, hes fine. He didnt forbid Milly from leaving, hell divorce later.
Poppy rattled off her story, eyes fixed on Milly, waiting for shock or tears. Milly sat by the stove, hands folded on her wartimefabric skirt, gazing at the floor.
Her motherinlaw burst out first.
Milly, this is our house, we decide. The grandchild will be here. And Colin what about him? Let Poppy stay; thats our decision. Let the child grow here. You decide.
Im not against it, Milly replied, rising to strain the milk.
Poppy and the fatherinlaw left for their things. The motherinlaw began fussing, waiting for Poppy.
Where shall we put him to sleep? Hell need a corner when hes born. Oh, misery
Milly fetched a bundle of straw from the yard, spread it on the floor by the stove, laid a handstitched rag blanket over ita makeshift bed, much like Fens nest in the kennel.
Days grew shorter, colder. The motherinlaw fell ill through the winter. Poppy, in her last days, grew fierce, walking on all fours. The farms burden fell on Millys shoulders, inescapable.
Poppy and the motherinlaw, oddly, grew close, even defending Milly when she was too strict.
Lay down, dear, or theyll keep you here and nag you, Poppy would say.
From milking at noon to milking at dusk, Milly watched the white woods across the river from a tiny window, pondering her fate. She could not return to her birthplace; the cottage there howled with wind, and a tenmile trek in the bitter cold was impossible.
She often recalled her own mother, wondering what shed say now seeing her daughters disgrace. Two wives under one roof, shed mutter, whos the real lady? Her mother had been a proud, selfassured woman.
Winter days passed, marked by fatigue and monotony. Only the baby born in January brought a flicker of joy.
In the harshest frost, the fatherinlaw brought the newborn from the maternity ward on a cart, a bundle in his armsboy named Ethan.
Milly tried not to stare at the child, her heart aching that she hadnt birthed him, though she prayed and took remedies. Yet her unfulfilled maternal longing clung to the infant as tightly as to herself.
All for Colin, say it, Milly, the motherinlaw kept urging, He looks like, Milly answered, Yes, he does
Mostly the boy was with Poppy, but Milly noticed that the child paid little heed to her own destiny.
What now? Rot here in this farm? I wanted to train as a lab assistant in the town centre. Colin wont wait ten years. I dont know what to do
On the farm, changes came. Four twobed houses were demolished, families moved in, temporary milkmaids arrivedtalkative, from elsewhere, but diligent. Weekends appeared. Milly befriended one of the new women, Vera.
Whats this about? Vera asked.
Milly recounted her storyher home not a happy place. Vera was astonished; shed never heard of a wife and a lover sharing one roof.
Leave, Vera advised.
What? Vera, Milly protested, Theres nowhere to go. How would they manage without me? The farm.
Ethan grew, crawling, then toddling, reaching for her more than his mother, tugging his curls, planting kisses on her cheeks, laughing as the sun set. He and the puppy Fen staged playful bouts.
Milly adored the boy. Poppy, though, was strict, sometimes harshher discipline sometimes hurt the child, who annoyed her.
She understood why; his dreams of a city life were crushed by his chores.
The grandparents cooed over the grandson but could not bear the extra load.
On May1st, Milly began to bake pies. She poured four shovelfuls of flour into a castiron pot, returned to the cottage, and kneaded dough. Poppy was getting ready for a village fête, slipped on white beads and fled. The motherinlaw sat beside Milly, cradling Ethan.
Milly, I must tell you something. It feels like youre the childs mother, not Poppy. Shes scared to speak, so Ill say it: she wanted to go to the city, to study and work. Shed leave Ethan on us. Were the nannies!
Millys eyes widened.
What? How?
She hopes youll look after him. Shes a nasty sort, not a mother How could she abandon her child? Shes never seen such before!
Milly kept kneading, halfmechanically, the words echoing in her mind.
What shall we do, Milly? Vera asked, concern in her voice.
Milly shrugged.
Perhaps its for the best. You have no children of your own; youll have a baby anyway. Colin will return, hell chooseAnd so Milly boarded the departing train, leaving the rainsoaked fields and tangled past behind, trusting that the unknown future would finally bring her the peace she had longed for.
