Hey love, let me tell you the story I heard about Eleanor she was barely sixteen when her mum passed away. Her dad had gone off to Manchester for work about seven years ago and never turned up, no word, no money. The whole little village of Littleford turned out for the funeral, everyone pitched in however they could. Aunt Martha, Eleanors godmother, kept dropping by, giving her advice on what to do next. She barely managed to finish school, and they got her a job at the post office in the neighboring hamlet.
Eleanors a sturdy sort, the kind of girl people say has blood and milk in her veins. Shes got a round, rosy face, a button nose, and bright grey eyes that seem to sparkle. Her long chestnut braid reaches down to her waist.
The most handsome lad in the village was Jack. Hed just come back from the army two years ago, and the girls even the city girls who pop in for summer holidays cant take their eyes off him. Hes not cut out for a village mechanic; hed rather be in a Hollywood action flick. Hes still a bit of a wanderer, not in any rush to settle down.
Then one day Aunt Martha asked Jack to help fix Eleanors fence, which had collapsed. You know how hard it is for a woman to manage everything on her own in a place like this. Eleanor could handle the garden, but the house was another story. Jack didnt need much convincing. He showed up, looked around, and started barking orders: Fetch this, run there, hand me that. Eleanor fetched everything he asked for, her cheeks flushing brighter and her braid swishing about. After a while Jack got tired, so she fed him a hearty bowl of stew and a strong cup of tea, while she herself bit into a slice of crusty black bread, teeth white as pearls.
Jack spent three days fixing the fence and, on the fourth, just turned up for a visit. Eleanor served him dinner, and before long he was staying the night, then the next, slipping out at dawn so no one saw. In a village, you cant really hide anything.
Aunt Martha warned her, Dont get your hopes up, love. He isnt looking to marry, and if he does, youll be left fighting for his attention. When the summer girls roll in, youll be green with envy. You need a proper bloke, not a dream. But love doesnt listen to old wisdom, does it?
Soon Eleanor realised she was pregnant. At first she thought shed just caught a cold or was poisoned. Nausea hit her hard, then one day the truth slammed into her like a hammer the child was Jacks. She felt guilty, thinking it was too early to have a baby, but then she thought, maybe its a blessing. Shed have someone to lean on. Her mother had raised her, and she could manage. Her father hadnt done much besides drink, and the village would talk, then move on.
When spring arrived, she took off her coat and everyone spotted her swelling belly. What a mess, they muttered, shaking their heads. Jack, of course, dropped by to see what she was up to.
Just getting ready to have the baby, she said, wiping a smear of soot from her cheek. Dont worry, Ill manage. She stared into the fire, the orange glow lighting up her cheeks and eyes.
Jack admired her, but eventually he left. She decided to face it alone, as steady as a stone. Summer came, and the city girls swarmed the village. Jack had no time for Eleanor any more.
Eleanor kept tending the garden, and Aunt Martha helped with weeding. Bending over with a big belly was tough, and shed haul half a bucket of water from the well each time. Some of the older women joked, What will God give you, love? She laughed it off.
In midSeptember, she woke up with a sharp pain as if her belly had been sliced in half. The pain eased, then returned, so she ran to Aunt Martha. Martha saw the fear in her eyes straight away.
Dont worry, love, Im right here, she said, hurrying out of the cottage. Eleanor sprinted to Mike, the local handyman, whose old pickup sat by the road. The villagers had already driven off to the city, and Mike had been out drinking the night before, so he was a bit wobblier than ideal. Aunt Martha tried to keep Jack from panicking, but when he finally understood what was happening he yelled, Its ten miles to the hospital! Shell give birth on the way. Lets go!
On a pickup? Shell end up delivering in the back! someone shouted.
Mike cut a ragged Alright, youre coming with us, and they all piled in. The roads were a mess of potholes and mud. Aunt Martha clutched a sack in the back, and as soon as they hit a patch of tarmac they sped up.
Eleanor twisted in the seat, biting her lip to keep from screaming, cradling her belly. Mike, now sober enough to drive, kept glancing at her, eyes wide, hands white-knuckled on the wheel. They made it to the clinic just in time. The staff rushed her in, and Aunt Martha scolded Jack the whole way back, Youve ruined a girls life! Shes alone, with a baby on the way, and youre just
By the time they got back to the village, Eleanor had already delivered a healthy, chubby boy. The next morning a nurse brought a bottle of formula, and Eleanor stared at her sons tiny, reddened face, lips trembling as she tried to feed him. Her heart swelled with a fierce, foolish joy.
The senior doctor asked if anyone would take her home, and Eleanor just shrugged, Probably not. He sighed and left, while the nurse wrapped the baby in a hospital blanket and said, Floyd will drive you back to the village. You cant take a bus with a newborn, love.
Floyd, a stout man in his fifties, gave her a curt nod and drove. On the road, rain had turned the lanes into huge puddles. Cant get through unless were on a tractor or a truck, he grumbled. Two more miles, then its home.
Eleanor held the sleeping infant tightly, exhausted. The mud was waistdeep, pulling at her boots. One shoe got stuck, and she had to shuffle the rest of the way on a single boot, slipping and sliding. By the time she reached the cottage, night was falling, her feet numb, and the lights in the cottage glowed like a beacon.
She opened the door to find the babys cot, a pram, and a mountain of tiny clothes. Mike was sitting by the fire, halfasleep, his head on his hands. He looked up, saw Eleanor, soaked to the bone, and rushed over, taking the baby into the cot, fetching hot water from the stove, and helping her out of the mud. By the time she changed into dry clothes, a pot of boiled potatoes and a mug of tea waited on the table.
The baby started wailing, and Eleanor swooped up, settled him at the table, and began nursing without a hint of embarrassment.
Whatll you call him? Mike asked hoarsely.
Sam, she replied, her eyes shining. Is that alright?
Its a good name. Tomorrow well register him and sort out the paperwork.
I dont really need that she murmured, watching the little mouth suckle.
My sons father should be named, Mike said bluntly. Ive had my fun, but I wont abandon my boy.
Eleanor nodded, silent.
Two years later they had a daughter, named after her mother Eleanor Hope. And you know what? No matter how many mistakes you make at the start of life, you can always fix them later.
