Tommy wiped his runny nose as he dragged a dry pine log on his big sled. The tree had fallen right at the edge of the villagetechnically, he shouldnt have taken it, but old Mr. Arthur, the local woodsman, had whispered, «Wait till its dark, then go fetch it.»
The boy strained against the weight, his breath puffing in the cold air.
«Tommy! Tommy!» A voice called out. Sure enough, there she wasbright-eyed Lucy, his classmate.
«What dyou want?»
«Let me help.»
No one knew where the scrawny girl got her strength, but together, they hauled the sled along, the load lighter between them.
«Whos watching the little ones, Tommy?»
«Gran, who else? Mums at work.»
«Oh. I came by to help with your homework, but your door was locked. Little Alfie told me youd gone toward the woods. Said you told them to stay put.»
«Had to lock it…»
«Running off again?»
«Yeah… always running back to Mum, like itll fix everything.»
«Poor thing. Hurts herself and drags you all down with her.»
«Mm.»
The pair hauled the log to Tommys house.
«Ta, Lucy.»
«No bother. Hand us the sawlets get this chopped quick.»
«Ill manage. Youve done enough.»
«Right, ‘manage.’ Youll be hacking at it with a handsaw all night, or we can do it proper.»
Side by side, they sawed the log into neat, dry chunks. Inside, little Alfie and two-year-old Annie pressed their faces to the frosty window.
Tommy grabbed the axe, splitting a chunk clean down the middle with sharp, practiced strikes. Lucy gathered the wood chips while he worked.
Once the pile was ready, they carried it inside. Tommy stoked the stove, and soon, warm flickers danced across the ceiling.
«Let me make some soup for you. Aunt Lydiall be home lateshe wont have to cook.»
«Nah, were alright,» Tommy muttered, cheeks reddening. «Granll sort it.»
«Oh no, Tommy!» Alfie piped up. «Let Lucy cook, eh? Remember last time Gran made that awful stew? Threw in cabbage, peas, even Mums dill seedssaid itd stop Annie wetting the bed!»
«Ill cook, Alf. You help.»
«Whose girl are you?» A frail voice creaked from the stove. An old woman in wellies and a shawl shuffled forward.
«Gran, get warm now.»
«Cold, Johnny…»
«Not Johnny, Gran. Its Tommy, your grandson.»
«Eh? Wheres Johnny then?»
«Gone. Be back soon.»
Lucy whispered, «She means Uncle John?»
Tommy nodded. «Ever since he left, shes been worse.»
«Why didnt he take her? Shes his own mum.»
Tommy shrugged. He hated talking about it.
JohnnyTommys father, Lydias husbandhad run off with his fancy woman. Left them with Gran, slaughtered the pigs for himself, took their only milk cow, even little Daisy the heifer. Lydia begged him to leave the heifer, but he just laughed. «What kind of man comes to his bride empty-handed?»
Tommy had hated him since that moment. The man had cleared out half their stores, even counted the spoons.
Lydia came home to find the children huddled by the kerosene lamp, Tommy reading Alfie a fairy tale, Gran dozing by the stove, Annie asleep with her thumb in her mouth.
«Mum,» Alfie whispered, «its proper warm. Tommy got wood, and Lucy helped saw it. Made soup an all. Gran wandered off twice, but we caught her.»
Lydia managed a tired smile, ruffling Alfies messy hair.
«Tommy… you do too much.»
«Salright, Mum. Eat upLucys soups good.»
After supper, Lydia mended clothes by lamplight. A knock rattled the window.
«Tommy, see whos there.»
The door burst open, bringing a gust of icy air and their round-faced neighbour, Val.
«Blimey, freezing out there! Reckon itll drop to minus two tonight. Brought you some lard and a bit of bacon.»
«Ta, Val, but you shouldnt»
«Course I should! You got flour?»
«A bit.»
«Heres two pints of milkfrozen since winterand some eggs. Well manage till spring, love. Dont fret over seed potatoesIvan said well spare you some.»
She leaned in, whispering.
Lydia paled. «Val, what if someone finds out?»
«Whos to know? Our sows due any day. Itll be alright.»
Two nights later, Val smuggled in a tiny pigletno bigger than a mitten.
«Val, if they catch us»
«They wont, love. Thirteen born, this ones the strongest.»
Next morning, Lydia was called to the farm office. The foremanan old friend of Johnnyswouldnt meet her eyes.
«Take a piglet from Val. And… maybe two. Well give you a heifer come April.»
Lydias lips were dry. «Ta.»
«Lydia… Im sorry. About Johnny. Never thought hed… well. If you need anything…»
She left without answering.
They survived. Tommy helped where he could. Lucythe foremans daughterwas always there, watching the kids or lending a hand. Even little Alfie pitched in.
The piglet thrived, soon joined by two more, trotting about with curly tails.
One evening, neighbour Clara called out, «Lydia! Let Tommy fix my roofIll pay in bacon!»
«No ta, Clara. Were not starving.»
«Oh? Heard Johnnys gallivanting with that hussy of his. Laughing on their fancy sleigh while his kids go wanting.»
Lydia stiffened. «Who says were wanting?»
She hurried home, hid in the shed, and wept.
A scratch at the door.
«Mum? You in here?»
«Lydia… Im a burden. When Im clear-headed, I see it… tired you all out.»
The old woman clutched a rope. Lydia snatched it away.
«How could you? Whatve I done to deserve this?»
They cried together, the old womans tears tracing her weathered face.
«Come inside. Well bake currant buns tonight.»
By spring, Gran took to her bed, calling for Johnny.
Val sent her husband, but Johnny never camejust sent money for the funeral.
The village judged him, but what did he care? Hed left beforecalled Lydia dull, his new woman a firebrand. Married Lydia young, shed been meek, an orphan with no one to defend her.
Hed loved the children, though. Or thought he had.
But loves a fickle thing.
At the fresh grave, Johnny knelt.
«Forgive me, Mum…»
«She already did,» Lydia said quietly. «Came to her senses at the end.»
He scowled. «Whyre you here?»
«Brought you food. Christian thing to do.»
Silence.
«Ill go. You… talk to her.»
«Will she hear?»
«A mothers heart always hears. Lifes like that, Johnny… twists you up till you dont know right from wrong.»
**Lifes lesson:** Hardship tests us, but kindnesseven from unexpected placescan mend whats broken. The weight of regret is heavier than any log, and some choices leave splinters too deep to pull out.
