Katie, do you want to get married?
And youll take me? she brushed off the eager hand of boisterous Mick Jones, and Clara answered the question in a flash. Mick laughed, baring his teeth, his eyes wandering over the rounded curves of Katie Agnew.
So, you in? Mick tried to reach for Clara. Otherwise we could tumble into the hayloft just let me hold on
Clara didnt hesitate; she shoved Mick straight into a thicket of nettles, where he landed like a clumsy helicopter, flailing his arms. Laughter erupted from the village hall where the local youths were gathered.
Hey, you plump one, Mick, rubbing his sore spot after emerging from the brambles, spat at Claras feet, his anger spilling out. Think youre funny? Theyre laughing at you
Katie turned away, lips pinched in hurt. Her friend Emma slipped a hand onto her shoulder. Whats the matter, Katie? Dont you know Mick? He only wants to snap his teeth at anyone.
Katie managed a smile. She wasnt going to cry. Shed grown used to this, and she understood: Emma could soothe things easily; nobody called her plump seriously. Katie was a sturdy girl, but beside Clara she felt as delicate as a sapling.
Lets go, the film starts soon, Emma called, and the three of them slipped into the dim light of the village hall.
Holding her dress carefully, Clara settled onto the creaking wooden benches of the old 1960s community hall. Comfort was scarce, but the pleasure of the cinema was abundant.
Clara sighed, watching the lithe heroines on screen.
Her older sister Mary was of a different build, just like their fatherthin as a reed. Their younger brother Colin was as lean as a stick. Their mother, however, was fullbodied, and Clara had taken after her. Yet their mother, Claudia, managed with boundless energy, never seeming to tire, and got along perfectly with the father. The pair looked like an odd couple: him lanky and slow, her round and spry, yet people still said they were a pair of shoes.
Clara sighed again, wondering whether shed ever find a partner in her little villageor anywhere else.
On Sunday the girls coaxed Clara to the parish centre, just as a delivery van with a tiny booth was due to arrive, where wooden benches would wobble like a tossed ball over the uneven ground.
They were driven to the centre, past the council building and a sundrenched square where music blared from a loudspeaker. Nearby a barrel of elderflower cordial steamed, and the girls ran straight to it, laughing, squinting against the glare, delighted by the summer day.
Look at her, such a plump one, Clara heard someone say. She wanted to think it wasnt about her, but none of her friends were like her. She turned around, halfexpecting the comment to be about someone else, and saw two boys by a tree in the shade. One stared pensively at his thoughts; the other, with a mocking grin, examined Clara from head to toe, then nudged his thoughtful companion.
Clara moved closer to the girls, wishing to hide from those oily eyes that seemed ready to pinch or squeeze her and then laugh.
Girls, well still make it to the dance! announced Nina.
Its already evening when do we get home?
Well make it! Uncle Victor promised to pick us up from the community centre. So, are we going or not?
Were going!
The dance at the town hall was nothing like the village club, where everyone was single and gossiping. The music was usually just an accordion.
A building with white columns, crowds, dancing, and a different tune awaited them. Occasionally, a regional orchestra would appear, but only on special occasions.
Clara glanced approvingly at the hem of her blue dress, glad shed chosen it, and hurried to keep up with the girls.
She knew no one would invite her, but the other girls twirled, smiling, happy.
She stood by a low wall, feeling as if someone were watching her. Why not? Her chestnut hair was braided into two plaits, her nose a sweet button, her cheeks rosy. If you looked into her eyes, youd see warmth and a hidden hope for happiness.
Maybe well dance why just stand?
She recognised the boy who had been near the mocking one on the square.
May I? she nodded.
He was a head taller than her, silent at first, then asked, Whats your name?
Clara, but they call me Katie.
Im Tom.
Where are you from?
Birchfield.
Ah, thats nearby.
Where do you live now?
Here.
And before?
In the city, studying, working.
He walked her to the car, wanted to say more but held back. She thought hed approached out of boredom.
I saw you twirling near the plump girl, said his mate Yuri.
Why call her that? She has a name, Yuri grinned, Katie.
Oh, Tom, youve fallen for her
Fell? Shes just a nice, pretty, kind girl
Tom, dont take offense; Im only joking. Seriously, will you arrange another meeting, or stay alone?
Im not alone. I have Val and Vicky; I have to look after them. And a girl why would she want other peoples children? Shell have her own.
Tom ran his hand through his dark hair, said goodbye to his friend, and headed home.
Hed grown up here, left to study. His mother, with two small children, did what she could. A year ago she passed away. Stunned, Tom returned; his brother Vicky, ten, and his younger brother Val, seven, clung to himVicky around his knees, Val holding his hand, not wanting to let go.
Aunt Zoe, a family friend, arrived, loudly lamenting the orphaned children, then quickly wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and told Tom, You should marry, Tom. Youre now the provider. Marry a woman with a child, so youre equals. I know oneSophie Carter, a year younger than you, would suit.
Ive seen her, Tom replied, but not today. Sophie isnt my type.
You have no choice, Tom. No girl will take you as you are. Think, why put a yoke on yourself when you can share the load with a man
Is that a yoke for Val and Vicky?
Dont cling to words, the aunt softened, I speak as life does.
Ill manage, Tom said.
He left, recalling the conversation, wishing the girl from Birchfield would walk beside him. When she approached his car, she seemed to expect a word, a call, a promise, but Tom stayed silent. He dared not speak. She wasnt married, why would she want other peoples kids? For Tom, his siblings were family forever; he would never abandon them.
Katie remembered the shy greyeyed boys look for years, though she knew nothing about him, yet wanted to see him again. Well, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror, a plump one, thats what they call me. Emma may call me our little dumpling, but it still hurts.
The following Sunday the girls invited her to the parish centre, but Katie declined. What would I do there? she thought of Tom. If only hed ask
Monday brought heavy field work; the exhausted girls collapsed onto the grass, some sitting, some lying down.
Oh, Katie, I nearly forgot, Nat ran over, dropping beside her, whispering, I must pass on the message: that boy from the dance, the one from last week, is inviting you next Sunday. The orchestra will be there.
Me?
Yes, you. He asked about you, wondered why you didnt come.
Then well all go.
Everyone will go, but hell be waiting for you.
Katie felt her cheeks flush. First joy, then doubt: Will he be like Mick, calling me to the hayloft, just to have a laugh?
She spent the week with those thoughts swirling.
They never went to the square, nor to the dance. Parting from the crowd, Katie and Tom found a shady bench in a park.
I wanted to see you again, Tom confessed, fidgeting with his cap. I thought you might not want it perhaps youve already a fiancé?
I have none.
And I have no bride, he blushed. But I have children.
Katie stared, surprised at the youth bearing children.
A younger sister and a brother, ten and seven. No father, mother gone. Im now their guardian. He met her gaze, as if saying, this is me. Thats why I didnt ask you I liked you.
I liked you too, she whispered.
I decided I should be honest, otherwise it would hurt more you now know everything about me.
Has anything changed? she asked. You liked me then, you still do.
Tom, nervous yet excited, wrapped his arms around Katie, his voice trembling: Katie, theyre good, Val and Vicky, they listen to me theyll grow, have families of their own, I swear, they arent a burden.
Tom, what burden? Theyre yours my younger siblings.
Autumn found the Agnew family clearing the garden together; by evening the hearth was lit, and Katie stood by the old castiron stove in her blue dress, glancing at the clock.
Claudia sighed, Well, dear, our middle daughter is getting married. Hes a good lad, even if he has children
Their father, tapping his fingers on the table, looked at his wife. With a man like that, even with kids, our Clara wont be left behind. Hell raise his own and theirs.
Theyre coming! Claudia exclaimed. All right, daughter, were sending a matchmaker.
Katie tore herself from the stove, shedding her coat like a leaf, sprinting out to meet her groom.
Little sister Val and brother Vicky rushed to her, grabbing her hands, eyes saying everything. Tom stood there, a smile spreading.
Let her go, Tom laughed, give me a chance to hug her.
Aye, love and marriage! the children chorused, trailing behind the couple into the house. Katie forgot the old teasing nicknames, the hurtful jokes, and perhaps would never recall them, unless someone whispered dumpling gently.
The dream faded, leaving the echo of village bells and the soft rustle of nettles in the night.
