Big Molly
Molly, come and take the stock! Where have you gone? Im calling and calling, and you dont hear me!
John peered into the back room of the small village shop, where he regularly brought produce from his farm, and let out a low whistle.
Mary Bennett, known to everyone as Big Molly, was sitting on the floor, sobbing her heart out, drying her face with the hem of her bright, flowery dress. The hem was already soaking wet, but Mollys tears seemed only to increase. Now and then, shed wring out the sodden fabric in her large, work-worn hands and then give it a shake. The soft thwack somehow set Molly off again, her sobs echoing around the little storeroom, oblivious to anything happening nearby.
She didnt even notice John standing there.
Mouse, whats wrong? John crouched down beside his old schoolmate, calling her by the nickname shed had since they were children. Whos upset you? Tell me, and Ill have words
Nooo! Mollys wail was so unexpected that John lost his balance and landed on the floor himself.
Whether it was Johns startled expression or Mollys own sudden decision to stop crying, the flood of tears that moments before threatened to sweep everything away suddenly stopped. Molly wiped her swollen nose, gave one last, heaving sniff that rattled the panes of glass, and boomed out:
John, am I pretty?
The question didnt catch John unawares. A good son, husband, and father of two teenage girls, he answered instantly, without a seconds hesitation:
Yes!
And to be fair, he was telling the truth. For John, Mollys beauty had nothing to do with appearances.
He had known Molly for as long as he could remember. Theyd pondered the world together as toddlers on the nursery floor, squabbled over bonbons at Christmas parties, thinking the others sweets tasted better. They shared a desk at school without ever considering a change, finding in each other the sibling fate seemed to have forgotten to provide. John already saw Molly as his sister in spirit.
At school, hed defended hereven though tall Molly always stood first in the line during PE.
But any girl can be teased, even if shes a head taller than every bully and could restore order with a flick of her huge, capable fingers.
Strangely, Molly could never stand up for herself, though shed transform into a sort of avenging angel if her friends were wronged. Yet when the target was her, Molly folded like a wildflowermouth trembling, big nose (better suited to a boy) sniffling, and heavy tears streaming down her face in the most undignified way. Her nose would redden and swell, her eyes narrow to slits, and nothingneither teachers nor friendscould comfort her. Only John knew how to manage, bravely stepping in and then leading Molly by the hand:
Come on, lets wash your face!
And she always listened to John, without question, though she was half a year older and nearly two heads taller. John was small, taking after his mother; for a long time, as a scrawny lad, he and Molly went by Tom Thumb and the Beefeater at school. Molly, of course, was the Beefeater
But the teasing and the difference in size never spoiled their friendship. John confided in her every time he had a crush, and in turn, she whispered her own romantic hopesthough there were few, for Molly fancied herself a woman of one love only.
Her one and only was unreliable Peter Watsona school rascal and terror to all the girls from infants upwards. Peters mother boasted of his prettiness as if he’d been a winning show pony.
My boy is a cherub! Gifted by the Lord himself! Have you ever seen anyone so striking?
Peter certainly was a sight. As a toddler, he was the image of a chubby cherub from a Renaissance painting, but as he grew, the babyish charm faded; his good looks became sharp, his eyes not blue like Alain Delons, but dark as a stormy sea.
Molly met Peter for the first time on her tenth birthday.
Fate, in its odd way, had arranged her birthday to coincide with the first day of the new school year. Dressed up and smiling, Molly was accepting well-wishes in the playground when a mischievous hand yanked her long plait, tearing off the carefully tied bow, and a cry of Beanpole! struck her from behind.
The insult stunned hershe even finished laughing at a friends joke before slowly turning round.
And that was thatshe was done for…
Apparently, the look on her face said it all. Peter dangled her ribbon in front of her nose and laughed brazenly right in her face.
Whatre you staring at? Never seen such good looks before?
Molly didnt get a chance to answer. John darted over, landed a couple solid clouts on Peters head, and snatched back Mollys ribbon.
Here you are! Hey! Molly, you alright?
Molly only stared at Peters retreating back as he dashed off to his mother.
John got told off for cuffing Peter, but didnt mind; Mollys peace of mind was more important. Peter, seeing her upset, continued to tease her whenever John wasnt about. He knew she wouldnt complain.
And so Molly simply put up with it.
She would let Peter copy her work at the slightest glance, handing him her exercise book before hed even asked, happy just to help.
At school discos, she quietly watched him dance with the other girls, yearning for just a smile in her direction.
She bore his jokes when his mood was foul.
In truth, Peter mellowed over time, growing so used to having Molly nearby that he no longer bothered her. And when he did notice, he never insulted herwhat boy wouldnt be flattered by a girl gazing at him with adoration, willing to do anything for even a hint of reciprocation?
John watched all this with clenched teeth, reminding himself to keep out. He listened patiently to Mollys endless praise of Peter, knowing advice was useless, that she simply wouldnt hear it.
She never knew that sometime in the eighth form, John had cornered Peter behind the school, caught him smoking, and seized him by the lapels:
If you upset Molly againIll see to you!
Threatening me, are you?
No, just telling you straight. Mind how you go!
John, by now training in wrestling and broadening out, had just enough strength to make Peter see sense. Molly never found out.
Instead, she penned letters to her beloved in a thick notebook covered in handrawn heartsknowing shed never send themand dreamed that one day, Peter would look her way, finally noticing her feelings.
John, of course, knew all about it, but said nothing, hoping it was just a phase.
He himself had no trouble with girls. By the end of school, hed shot up, filled out, and his mother joked shed soon need a broom to sweep the admirers off the path. But it was Cathy who waved him off to university, and when he came back after the army and finished his degree, it was Cathy he married.
At Johns wedding, Molly celebrated with her whole heart. She rather liked Cathy, liked Johns happiness, and the bright crowd of guests. Only Peters absence tugged painfullyall the worse since hed left straight after their last day at school without a word and hadnt been heard from since.
Peters mother, when Molly once plucked up the courage to ask after him, simply flicked her gaze disdainfully over Molly and sniffed,
Hes doing perfectly! Coming back to this backwater? Goodness, no! Peters set for bigger thingshe wont be wasting his talent here!
Molly thanked her and watched her walk away, bemused.
When Molly told John, he shook his head sympathetically:
Molly, look around you, wont you? Theres plenty of good people here, and still you pine for that dunce! He wont come back… Molly!
She stopped listening. She clapped her hands over her ears and shook her head. Why did John tell her these things? Was it her fault her heart refused to obey? And was it so bad to still hope shed see the one whod captured it? She needed no one else! There could never be anyone better than Peter!
John understood Mollys pain perfectly. He apologized, tried to comfort her as best he could, but then asked Cathy to have a word with their friend.
Shes a dear soul, Cathy. Time passes, and shes still wasting herself for Peter. She couldve had a home and children by now.
But John, you miss the point, Cathy replied, smoothing the worry lines from his brow.
What point?
She loves him, John… And you cant forbid love, can you?
No, I suppose you cant…
After that, he gave up trying to talk Molly round. He introduced her to his mates, invited her to every gathering, hoping someone might distract her, but nothing worked.
Molly still waited.
The years passed. John finished university, became the father of two lovely daughters, and decided city life wasnt for him. Cathy supported him completely. They bought a house in the countryside near town, set up a farm, and agreed with Molly that she should open a shop.
Wholl help me, if not you, Molly?
John, I dont know the first thing about it! Never had a chance to learn… and you dont need much wit to mop stairwells.
What do you mean, never learned? What about
Theres nothing, John! My hands never worked properly, or you wouldnt be here now…
This was at the heart of Mollys sadness. Shed always wanted to be a doctor, to help peoplebut after school, she went to work almost immediately.
Her mother, Susan Bennett, held a good job at the local factory and hoped to see Molly off to university. She tried to do everything she could to secure a future for her daughter, for there was no one else. Mollys father had died when she was only six. Susan never remarried.
No, Molly love! No one could ever replace your father. Its better just us two…
With time, things seemed to settle, and Susan worked hard for her reputation. She was proud shed soon see her daughter at university. But then trouble struckSusan slipped in the factory, hit her head on a machine, and suffered a stroke brought on by worry for Molly, who shed rarely left for a day.
Mollys plans had to go on hold. She needed to care for her mother. She found work nearby and learned physiotherapy. Remarkably, Mollys strong hands werent suited to mopping floors as shed thought, but could massage and ease pain.
John would help her carry Susans special chair from his car, saying,
Molly, you really ought to qualify as a physio. Youve strong, gifted hands better than mopping stairwells, surely?
When would I, John? It costs money, and I cant just leave Mum.
John fell silent, but pondered awhile.
Then, a few days later, Molly received a phone call:
Hello, Im Anna. Im a carerJohn Bennett sent me. When could I come by to meet you and your mum?
Molly hesitated, but Anna waved away her concerns.
Dont worry about the payment, love. John has it all sorted out. Just tell me a time.
Thats how Annie came into their lives.
No one ever called her Anna for long; after just half an hour with her, she was Annie to everyone. Annie was warm in a way that left you wanting to stretch out, breathe deep, and remember the silly games of a childhood PE class.
The breeze is low and quiet… Our tree is growing higher, higher…
And Molly, like that tree, began to stand tall again, watching her mother smileif only slightlyat Annies jokes. Seeing Susan try to make even the smallest effort for her daughters sake.
With John and Cathys advice, Molly rented out a room and set off to study for a physiotherapy diploma.
It was hard, even with Annies help. Molly refused Johns money, but found a way to settle with Annieher grandson had his own struggles, and Mollys large, gentle hands did wonders for him. She paid Annie half the standard fee, working off the rest. Annie would have refused payment altogether, but Molly stood firma fair days work earned fair pay.
Annies grandson, once bedridden, not only stood but, unsteadily, walked. Each uncertain step filled Annie with such hope that she wept at the sight. Doctors shook their heads, amazedafter all, no professional expected the boy to walk at all.
How…?
Molly had no answer. She simply worked, tuning into the childs needs and instincts, and did whatever felt right. If a leg was sluggish, she focused there, searching for the proper muscles and pressure points.
Life then brought her to a master of Chinese massage, and she seized the opportunity, arranging for Annie to stay with her mother. Annie was only too happy.
Go learn, Molly! You dont realise what a gift you have! Youre neededby children like my grandson…
It took time, but when she qualified, she no longer needed to worry about money. She secured a post at the childrens clinic and took private clients in her spare hours.
All went well until, one day, returning home from a call-out, Molly slipped. The pavement outside the old school, iced over, was slick; a gang of second-years, having turned the biggest puddle into their rink, crashed into her, sending her sprawling.
She fell badly, arms out, and initially felt no painjust annoyance at her clumsiness, at her now filthy coat, and that shed have to borrow her mothers, which barely fit.
But when she tried to rise, her hands wouldnt cooperate. Then darknessand she fainted.
Molly woke in hospital. Cathy sat beside her, dozing on the chaira surprise, since Cathy was expecting their third child, and John had never allowed her a moments risk. Cathy always responded with humour to Johns fussiness but was grateful, too; she knew few husbands would take over the kitchen, the washing, and the children with such joy.
Cathy…
Molly tried to call her friend, but only a croak escaped. Soreness shot up her arms, tingling along her spine and throbbing behind her eyes. She understoodit was bad. She couldnt feel her hands.
Cathy, ever sensitive (and even more so with child), woke instantly.
Molly! Youre awake! Oh, dont crythe doctor will scold! Dont be frightened! The breaks were bad, but the operation was good, and youll recover. John will be here in the morning to update you on your mum. Annies with her. Susan didnt even get a chance to fret. Now, rest. Im allowed to stay, as John managed to arrange it. He wasnt let into the ladies ward so I insisted. Dont worry, Molly, everything is going to be fine.
But Molly did worry in the morning, when she realised just how helpless she wasshe needed help even to brush her hair.
That was torture, deeply wrong. And so Molly did everything she could to bring movement back to her hands. It took months, but she triumphedthough she couldnt yet give her skilled massages.
Work on your hands, my girl. Time will do the rest. John, having brought her home, handed her over to Annie. And well all be around to help!
Molly refused help. Nonsense! John had a baby, a wife, two girlsshed manage somehow.
She watched Johns car roll away and whispered thanks for such a friend. If ever there was a lucky ticket in life, hers was the moment she met John.
Isnt it happiness, after all, to have someone you dont even need to call? Who comes running at the first sign of trouble, from wherever he is, dropping everything, just to shield you from the storm?
And Molly, I daresay, would have been unsurprised to know John felt just the same.
She became godmother to Johns daughters, was friend to Cathy, and keeper of all family secretswhether over a cozy kitchen table in Mollys flat or Johns big farmhouse. She heard tales from the eldest down to little Michael John Bennett, Johns youngest, who might have loved Auntie Molly even more than his own parents. She spoiled him, played with him for hours, and accompanied him to London once for the operation that let Michael hear as healthy children do. He remembered his mother crying before the procedure, and Auntie Molly wrapping her up, saying, Dont cry! Were together in this. Itll all be fine!
Now, Michael could say with certaintyAuntie Molly was the strongest woman in the world! She soothed Mum, came whenever needed, and he was sureafter his mother, Auntie Molly was the most beautiful person there was.
No, by conventional measures, Molly was not the ideal of modern beauty. If shed lived three centuries before, her looks might have been much admiredbut they didnt suit todays tastes.
She was, frankly, big. Properly big!
There was a monumentality to herher figure and face, bold as if sculpted by a master from some ancient temple, big nose, expressive eyes, glorious dark hair, and feet sized for a sturdy man.
Separately, it was all unusual, but together…
Yes, Molly was beautiful. A strong, particular beauty, not for everyone, but quite real. The very type of woman who could stop a runaway horse, or stride into a burning house as the old tales go.
Not a womanan English Dream!
But suitors never seemed to dream of her. So Molly, standing behind the till in the shop shed finally opened with John, gazed over customers heads, knowing they saw her only as a shopkeeper. No one knew she partly owned the small but growing local chain, and Molly saw no reason to invite extra gossip. Already, there were enough wagging tongues. Some pitied her, asking when shed return to childrens massage; others said she was meant for the fields, with hands to rival any farmworker. Johns farm couldnt supply all the shops, so hed turned manager, forging honest deals with local growersnot for his own pocket, but to help everyone. The enterprise thrived, and there were no worries about tomorrow.
But Molly wasnt thinking of that. She lived for her mothers smile, the smallest progress, though sometimes she sighed, recalling the way blue eyes had once made her heart flutter, now so faded she could scarcely remember their shade.
Yet fate, ever mischievous, chose that dayjust as John arrived with fresh produce and wondered where his friend wasfor something quite unexpected.
Peter returned.
He came to Mollys shop, sent on an errand by his mother, and the unimaginable happenedMolly didnt even recognise him.
So it goes. No classmate would have known Peter now, so much had he changedsadly, not for the better.
The deep blue eyes, once so captivating, had lose their sparkle, and his hands trembled nervously, constantly shifting.
Hello, Beefeater! Peter called out with a snicker. You havent changed! Still elephantine, eh? Still flooding the place when you sob? Or have you learnt to carry a hanky big enough? Actually, in your case, perhaps a sheets more fitting! Remember me?
The world seemed to tearMolly gasping at the realisation.
Who was this? Was this truly the man shed lovedall her short life so far? What on earth had she seen in him?
The lost look in Peters eyes told her more than words could, and she turned and fled.
There was nowhere to run but the back room; she dashed in, bumped the table aside, and collapsed onto her beloved rickety old stool, which finally, unwillingly, gave way beneath her. Molly slumped to the floor in tears.
Peter, meanwhile, clueless, reached over the counter, grabbed a bottle of milk, and left.
Thats where John found her. He answered her odd question and waited patiently.
Molly, dabbing her eyes and searching her heart, managed a cautious smile.
John
Hmmm?
Thank you…
For what?
For just being here. For Cathy, Mum, Annieeveryone I have in my life!
Two days later, Molly heard all the latest: Peter had been married three times, and not once happily. His children lived scattered across the country, and he bothered to see none of them. He hadnt even managed to hold down a proper job.
Peters mother breezed in one day, rattling out her sons virtues in usual fashion.
No one appreciates him! So gifted, so cleverno wonder his bosses cant stand him! As for wiveswell, any number, but as I say Oh, never mind. Ill have a bottle of milk and a pound of cottage cheese. Peter loves my cheese pancakes. Is it fresh today? No, dont bother answeringit rarely is. What are you smiling at, dear? Give me my cheese then, Im in a hurry!
Years on, on a golden summers day, Cathy would step out onto the front porch, shielding her eyes from the sun, and call,
John? John!
Here I am!
Molly called! Theyll be here soon!
Shes driving again herself?
No, Anthonys back from offshore. Dont fuss!
Shes not a womanshes a perpetual motion machine! How can I not worry? Ready to burst, and still running about!
Well, she has massage clients all overwhat else can she do? Theres always a waiting list. Im nothing like heram I, John? Cathy carefully hugged him, belly now round, Im the perfect calm wifeyour dream, arent I?
You? John choked with laughter and pressed a kiss to her nose. Off you pop and welcome them, sweetheart! By the time you reach the gate, theyll have arrived!
Dodging Cathys scandalised retort, John dusted off his shorts and headed inside to check on the barbecue, marinated meat, and firewood. Molly, expecting twins now, was always hungrya good sign.
He pulled off his grubby shirt, ruffled his youngest sons hair as the boy dashed from the bathroom.
Where now?
Im going to blow bubbles for Mollys Katie! Remember how she giggled last time? And Auntie Susan loved them too. Annie says Im a proper scientist. Dad, can I have a chemistry set? Auntie Molly said theyre made for children.
Ask your mother. Im not taking the blame if we need a new house! Im out!
Oh, Daaad!
John flipped his sons nose, made a mental note, and hurried for his shower.
This day promised to be perfect. What else is needed? Only that those you love are sheltered under your roof, theres good food on the table, and children laughing in the sunshine, chasing bubbles across the lawn. And happiness itself, sitting on the veranda rail, feet swinging, quietly listening for a secret known only to those who cherish each other.
A secret, but a good one! For people with big hearts, it could only ever be so. A happiness large and bright, enough for everyone close by.
