**Diary Entry**
The cold bit deep as Tom dragged the dry pine log on his heavy sledge. It had fallen right at the edge of the villagetechnically, it wasnt meant to be taken, but old Arthur, the local woodsman, had tipped him off. Wait till dark, hed said, then fetch it.
Tom heaved, his breath ragged, the weight nearly too much for him.
Tom! Tommy! A voice calledsharp-eyed Lucy, his classmate, appeared beside him.
What dyou want?
Let me help.
Where did a girl find such strength? Still, it was easier with two. They hitched themselves to the sledge and pulled together.
Whos watching the little ones, Tom?
Gran, who else? Mums at work.
Ah. I came by earlierdark, door locked. Alfie told me through the door youd gone towards the woods, said youd told them to stay put.
Had to lock it
She ran off again?
Yeah. Always towards Russia. Hometo her mum.
Poor thing. Suffering herself, making you suffer.
Suppose.
They hauled the log to Toms house.
Thanks, Luce.
Dont mention it. Fetch the sawwell cut it quick.
I can manage.
Oh, manage? Youll be at it all night. Hand it over.
Together, they sawed. Soon, neat logs lay scattered on the ground.
Through the window, Alfies six-year-old face and little Annies, just two, peered out.
Tom grabbed the axe, swung hardonce, twice, thriceuntil the log split clean in two. Lucy gathered the wood chips as he worked.
With a pile ready, they carried it inside. Tom lit the stove. Warmth seeped through the room, flickers of light dancing on the ceiling.
Let me make soup, Lucy offered. Auntie Lizll be tired when she gets back.
No, were fine, Tom mumbled, cheeks reddening. Granll do it.
No, no! Alfie whined. Let Lucy cook, Tom. Remember last time Gran made that awful stew? Threw in cabbage, peas, even Mums dill seedscouldnt eat it!
Ill cook, Lucy insisted. Alfie, help peel the spuds.
Whose girl are you? A voice croaked from the stoveGran, wrapped in shawls, clambered down in her felt boots and quilted coat.
Gran, get changedits warm now.
Freezing, Jimmy.
Not JimmyTom. Your grandson.
Oh? Wheres Jimmy gone?
Away hell be back.
Shes confused again? Lucy whispered.
Worse since he left.
Why didnt he take her? His own mother
Tom shrugged. He hated talking about it.
JimmyToms father, Lizs husbandhad run off to his mistress. Left them Gran, emptied the larder before wintertook the pigs, the cow, even the calf, Betsy.
Mum had begged, At least leave the calfwell raise her.
Hed laughed. What sort of groom shows up bare-arsed to his bride?
Tom had hated him ever since.
When Liz returned, the children sat by the oil lampTom reading Alfie a story, Gran huddled near the stove, Annie asleep, thumb in mouth.
Mum, Alfie whispered, its so warm. Tom brought wood, he and Lucy sawed it, lit the stoveLucy made soup, Annies asleep, Gran tried running to Russia twice
Liz smiled faintly, ruffling Alfies messy hair.
Tom youve too much on you.
Salright, Mum. Eatsoups good.
After supper, Liz mended clothes. A knock came at the window.
Tom, see who it is.
The door burst open, cold air swirling in with Valround-faced, bundled up.
Blimey, freezing out there! Liz, brought you some cracklings, bit of lard.
Val, you shouldnt
Nonsense. Flour?
A little.
Heretwo pints of milk, saved from winter, some eggs. Well manage till spring, then the gardens And dont fret over seed potatoesJohn said well spare some. Eat what youve got. Val leaned close, whispering.
Liz paled. What if they find out?
Who? Hardly a crowd round here. Our sows due soondont worry.
Two nights later, Val smuggled in a piglettiny as a mitten.
Val, if anyone knows
They wont. Thirteen bornweakest wouldnt have made it. Took the strongest.
Next day, Liz was summoned.
Mum, Tom choked, maybe itll be alright?
Dont know, love. Watch the little ones.
The foremanJimmys old matewouldnt meet her eyes. Go to the farm, Liz.
Why, Frank?
Take a piglet. Valll pick a good oneor two. And milks authorised for the kids. Porridge, whatever. Well give you a heifer come April.
Ill take it. Her voice was dry. May I go?
Liz He stopped her at the door. Im sorry.
For what?
Jimmy. Didnt think hed abandon you all, strip the place. Just found outmy missus told me. Why didnt you say?
She left without answering.
Life went onLiz, the kids, Gran (who barely knew where she was). Tom helped. Lucythe foremans daughterdid too. Even Alfie pitched in.
They raised the pigletthen two more, tails curling, snouts rooting.
One evening, a neighbour called out.
Liz heard about Jimmy? Saw him with that womanlaughing on a cart, didnt care if his kids starved.
Were not starving. Liz walked faster.
Course notyoure blue with cold, kids half-starved, and Jimmy took
Liz fled to the shed, sobbing.
A scratch at the door.
Mum? Whatre you doing?
Liz Im a burden. When I come to, I seeIve worn you out.
What? Liz snatched the rope from Grans hands. How could you? Whatve I done wrong?
They cried togetherLiz, Grans weathered face streaked with tears.
Come inside. Well bake today.
By spring, Gran took to her bed, calling for Jimmy.
He never came. Sent moneyfor the funeral.
The village judged him, but what did he care?
Hed loved his kidsuntil he didnt. Loved Lizuntil fiery Bessie came along.
At the fresh grave, he knelt.
Forgive me, Mum.
She already has. Liz stood behind him.
Youwhyre you here?
Brought food. Christian custom Drink. Remember her.
Silence.
Ill go. Talk to her
Will she hear?
A mothers heart always hears. Lifes just like this, Jim. It twists you. He stayed by the grave long after Liz left, the wind tugging at his coat. Back in the village, the children played by the fence, Lucy calling them in for supper. Tom watched from the yard, axe in hand, the fire warm behind him. Life went on, quieter now, but steadywood cut, soup simmering, the piglets grunting in their pen. And in the kitchen, Annie reached for the flour, leaving tiny handprints on the sack, while Alfie stirred the pot, humming a tune Gran once sang.
