**Diary Entry**
The sound of shattering glass echoed from the next room. Startled, Agnes dropped the saucepan and rushed in. Her grandson stood frozen, staring at the broken vase.
«What have you done?» she shrieked, swatting him with a damp tea towel.
«Nan, Ill clean it up!» He lunged for the pieces.
«Oh, Ill clean you up first!» The towel came down again. «Sit on the bed and dont move!»
She swept up the mess, then trudged back to the kitchen. A puddle spread across the floor, potatoes scattered in itthank God they were still raw. She gathered them, washed them, and shoved them into the oven. Sinking into a chair, she wiped her eyes, silently cursing her daughter.
Why, why does everyone else have a normal family? Not me. No husband of my own, and now my daughters no better. And now shes gone to the train station in Manchester, bringing home some prison guard shes never even metjust love letters for three years. Now hell be living under my roof. As if feeding her and the boy wasnt enough, now Ive got him to feed too. Well, Ill make sure this son-in-law doesnt last long. Hell run soon enough.
«Nan, can I go outside?»
«Go on, then! But bundle up properly. And stay away from the riverthe icell break any day now.»
«Alright, Nan!»
A car pulled up outside. Agnes peered through the window. Even from here, she could see the mans face was scarred. What was that foolish girl thinking? A prison guard, and ugly to boot.
The door creaked open. They stepped inside.
Faye had brought her fiancé home.
«Just the man I wanted to see,» smirked the local constable. «Need to check his release papers. See what sort of chap were dealing with.»
«Go on, then. Theyre just having lunch. Though hes no son-in-law of minenever will be.»
***
Agnes went to fetch her grandson. Not that he was hard to findracing about with the other lads. Still, she lingered, chatting with the neighbours. No matter how she felt, she couldnt avoid going home forever.
She eyed the massive logs in the yard. No way she could split those. Sighing, she grabbed an axe from the shed and started hacking at the smallest one. She swung againbut a strong hand caught the axe mid-air.
«Aunt Agnes, let me try.»
«Go ahead,» she muttered, eyeing the newcomer.
He ran a thumb along the blade and frowned. «You got a whetstone?»
«In the workshopmy husbands old things are still out there.»
***
Harry stepped inside, and his eyes widened. The place was packed with tools. He flicked on the grinding wheelstill worked. Sharpened the axe, then snatched up the maul beside it.
Back outside, he split the logs clean in two, then chopped them into firewood. By evening, every log was stacked neatly in the shed.
Agnes watched from the doorway, shaking her headbut the ghost of a smile touched her lips.
«Aunt Agnes,» Harry called, «those beams by the fencerotten?»
«Useless now.»
«Come with me. Ive got one just like it. Maybe we can salvage one from the two.»
They headed to old Georges place. His chainsaw was beyond repair, but the sprocket and chain were still good.
«Take it,» George grinned. «If you get it running, you can saw up my logs too.»
***
Then the neighbour piped up: «Listensplit mine too, and stack them in the shed.» He shoved two fifty-pound notes into Harrys hand.
Harry did the job, then returned home and set the money on the table. «Aunt Agnes, take this.»
She hesitated, then smiledrare in a village where barter was the usual trade.
***
The next day, Harry tinkered with the rotavatorploughing season was coming.
Then the boy came sprinting in, wild-eyed. «We were sliding on the ice, and Oliver got carried offhe couldnt jump back!»
Agnes and Faye bolted outside, racing for the river.
A chunk of ice, with the boy clinging to it, drifted further from the bank. Upstream, massive floes bore downsomewhere, the jam had broken.
Faye screamedbut Harry was already plunging into the icy water. He hauled himself onto the floe just as another slab of ice hurtled toward them.
«Listen, Ollie,» Harry crouched low. «Youre a tough lad, yeah? When that big one hits, we jump onto itor were done. One shot. Ready? Now!»
He hurled the boy onto the oncoming ice, then leapt after, slamming his leg against the edge. Blood darkened his trouser leg. The boy stared at his scraped palms, trembling.
The current seized them, hurtling them downstream.
***
On the bank, the villagers watched in horror.
«Theyre done for!» someone cried.
«Maybe not,» the constable mused. «The river bends sharp up aheadand Harrys no fool.»
Then he sprinted to his Land Rover.
Harry wrapped his arms around the shivering boy. «Next test, lad. That floe wont clear the bendwell smash right into it. Move to the far side.»
The bank rushed closerCRACK. The impact flung them onto the gravel shore.
«Alive!» Harry hoisted the boy up.
«My arm hurts. And my leg.»
«Scrapes,» Harry grinned. «Theyll heal.»
«But youre bleeding!»
«Walk it off. Youre a man, arent you?»
The boy rubbed his elbow. «Still hurts.»
«Quit whinging.»
***
Minutes later, they reached the roadjust as the Land Rover skidded to a halt.
«Still breathing?» Harry nodded.
«You look rough. Hospitalnow.»
***
Faye sobbed on the bed. Agnes paced by the window. A phone trill made them both jump. Faye snatched it up»Constable» flashed on the screen.
«Whatwhat happened?» she cried.
«Olivers here, patched up. Hold on»
«Mum?» came the boys voice.
«Ollie, are you alright?»
«Fine, Mum. Im not a baby, am I?»
«See, Faye? Hes fine,» the constable cut in.
Agnes yanked the phone away. «TomTom, what about Harry?»
«Getting stitched up. Hang onhes out now.»
«Harry?»
«Yeah, all good.»
«Aunt Agnes, theyre both fine,» the constable said. «Bringing them home shortly.»
Agnes exhaled, waving at Faye. «Stop your weeping. Those ladsll be starvingtheyve had nothing since morning. She wiped her hands on her apron and moved to the kitchen, pulling the roasted potatoes from the oven. The meat would have to waitbetter to start fresh. As she reached for the flour, she paused, then added an extra handful to the dough. Thered be four at table now, not three. Four, and maybe even a proper fire in the hearth to warm them.
