Ethel is barely sixteen when her mother dies. About seven years ago her father disappears after moving to London for work, and no word or money ever comes back. Almost everyone in the village turns up for the funeral, lending a hand however they can. Aunt Margaret, Ethels godmother, often stops by, offering advice on what to do next. Ethel barely finishes school and lands a job delivering mail for the Royal Mail in the neighbouring hamlet.
Ethel is a sturdy girl people say shes blood and milk. She has a round, rosy face, a button nose, and bright grey eyes that seem to glow. A thick chestnut braid falls to her waist.
The most handsome lad in the village is Colin. He returned from the army two years ago and has been the centre of every girls attention. Even the city girls who spend their holidays here cant keep their eyes off him. He ought to be a stunt driver in a Hollywood blockbuster, not a farmhand. Hes still a roving bachelor, in no hurry to pick a wife.
One day Aunt Margaret asks Colin to help fix Ethels fence, which has collapsed under the weight of the soil. Without a strong man, life in the village is hard. Ethel can manage the garden, but the house is beyond her.
Without much fuss, Colin agrees. He arrives, surveys the mess and starts barking orders: Bring that, fetch this, hand it over. Ethel obeys instantly, cheeks flushing even deeper, her braid swaying as she scurries. When he tires, she serves him a hearty bowl of stew and a mug of strong tea, while she bites a crust of dark bread with her white, sturdy teeth.
He works on the fence for three days. On the fourth, he just drops by for a visit. Ethel cooks him dinner, and after a few words he stays the night, then begins to linger, leaving before dawn so no one sees him. In a village nothing stays hidden.
Aye, love, dont welcome him home; hell never marry you, Aunt Margaret warns. And if he does, youll only end up fighting for his attention. When the summer girls arrive, youll be green with envy. You need a proper lad, not this one.
Young love hardly heeds a wise elder.
Soon Ethel realises shes pregnant. At first she thinks shes simply caught a cold or has food poisoning. Weakness and nausea come in waves. Then, like a hammer striking her skull, the truth hits: the child is Colins. She worries its a sin to have a baby so soon, but then thinks maybe its for the best. She wont be alone. Her mother raised her, and she can manage. Her father was little more than a drunk, so theres no shame in the towns gossip.
Spring arrives and she sheds her heavy coat, revealing a swollen belly that everyone in the village notices. They shake their heads, muttering that the girls in a right pickle. Nicholas, the village handyman, drops by to ask what she plans to do.
Give birth, of course. Dont worry, Ill look after the babe. Live as you have lived, he says, wiping his hands on his apron, the firelight flashing in his eyes.
Colin admires her from afar, then leaves. She decides on her own. Summer rolls in and the pretty city girls flock to the village; Colin has no time for Ethel now.
Ethel tends the garden slowly, while Aunt Margaret helps with weeding. Bending with her belly is hard; she hauls water from the well in a halfpint bucket. The village women joke that shell be a giantess.
Whatever God sends, Ethel laughs.
On a crisp September morning she is woken by a sharp pain, as if a knife has sliced her abdomen in half. The pain fades, then returns. She rushes to Aunt Margaret, who instantly understands from the frightened look in Ethels eyes.
Sit tight, Im coming, Margaret shouts, bursting out of the cottage.
Ethel dashes to Nicholas, whose old pickup sits by the lane. The holidaymakers have already driven off, and Nicholas, who drank heavily the night before, is still wobbling. Aunt Margaret scolds him, but he finally snaps into action.
How far to the hospital? he yells. Ten miles! If we wait for a doctor, shell deliver on the way. Lets go!
On a pickup? Shell break the whole thing and give birth en route, a woman protests.
Then you come with us, just in case, Nicholas replies.
They speed down the rutted lane, dodging ditches, with Aunt Margaret perched on a sack in the back. When they finally hit the tarmac, the engine sputters but they push on.
Ethel winces in the passenger seat, biting her lip to keep from crying, clutching her belly. Nicholas, now sober, glances at her with whiteknuckled hands on the wheel, his mind on the road.
They make it. At the tiny clinic, they drop Ethel onto a cot and race back. Aunt Margaret berates Colin the whole way, cursing him for ruining a girls life. Shes an orphan, pregnant, and now youve added more trouble!
The pickup never reaches the village; Ethel gives birth to a healthy, chubby boy before they even leave the road. The next morning a nurse brings a bottle of formula, and Ethel, trembling, watches the wrinkled red face of her son. She bites her lip again, does as shes told, and her heart swells with joy.
A stern older doctor asks if anyone will pick her up.
Probably not, Ethel shrugs, shaking her head.
The doctor sighs and leaves. The nurse wraps the infant in a hospital blanket and hands it to her, reminding her to bring him home.
Fergus will take you back to the village in the ambulance, not the regular bus, the nurse snaps.
Ethel thanks her, walking down the corridor with her head down, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
She climbs into the ambulance, clutching the bundle to her chest, worrying about how theyll manage now that her maternity allowance is as thin as a penny. She feels sorry for herself and for the innocent child. She looks at his tiny, creased face, and tenderness washes over her, banishing the heavy thoughts.
The ambulance stalls. Ethel looks anxiously at Fergus, a sturdy man in his fifties.
Whats the matter?
Its been raining for two days. Look at those puddlesno way through. Ill have to leave the boy on the truck and walk the last two miles. Can you manage?
He points to a massive lake of water covering the road.
The baby sleeps in her arms, and shes exhausted just holding him. A real hero, she mutters, thinking of how to cross. She steps out carefully, cradles the bundle, and walks along the edge of the huge puddle. Mud fills her shoes up to the ankles; one boot gets stuck. She pauses, wondering what to do, then continues on her good foot, dragging the other boot through the slush.
When she finally reaches the village, darkness is falling, her feet numb from the cold. She stumbles into her cottage, the glow of the hearth welcoming her.
Inside, a baby cot and a pram sit by a pile of clothes. Nicholas is slumped over a table, asleep. He stirs, looks up, and sees Ethel, cheeks reddened, hair dishevelled, the baby swaddled in her arms, her dress soaked and mudcaked to the knees. He rushes over, lifts the child onto the cot, fetches a kettle of hot water, helps her out of the mudsoaked boots, and washes her feet. While she changes, a pot of boiled potatoes and a jug of fresh milk sit on the stove.
The baby starts to cry. Ethel scoops him up, sits at the table, and, without shame, begins to breastfeed.
What shall we call him? Nicholas asks hoarsely.
Sheriff, she replies, her clear eyes meeting his.
He feels a tug at his heart.
A fine name. Tomorrow well register him and sort everything out.
Its not necessary Ethel begins, watching her son suckle.
My son needs a father. Ive had my fun, but I wont abandon him.
Ethel nods, keeping her gaze low.
Two years later a daughter is born. They name her Hope, after Ethels own mothers wish for a better future.
It matters not what mistakes you make at the start of life; the important thing is that you can always set them right.
