**Diary Entry**
The jingle from the next room startled me. Knocking over the saucepan, Agnes rushed in. The boy stood frozen, staring at the shattered vase.
“What have you done?” the woman shouted, swatting her grandson with a damp tea towel.
“Nan, Ill clean it up!” He scrambled for the broken pieces.
“Oh, Ill give you cleaning up!” The towel came down again. “Sit on the bed and dont move!”
She swept up the mess, returned to the kitchen, and groaned. A puddle on the floor, potatoes scatteredat least they were still raw. She picked them up, rinsed them, and shoved them back in the oven. Then she sank into a chair and wiped her eyes, cursing her daughter under her breath.
“Why cant I have a normal family like everyone else? No husband for me, none for my daughter either. And now thismy girls gone off to the train station in Manchester, bringing home some prison guard shes never even met. Three years of letters, she calls it love. And now hell be living under my roof. As if feeding her and the boy wasnt enoughnow another mouth to feed. Well, Ill make sure he doesnt stick around long. Hell run off soon enough.”
“Nan, can I go outside?”
“Go on, then! But wrap up warm. And stay away from the riverthe ices breaking any day now.”
“Alright, Nan!”
A car pulled up outside. Agnes peered through the window. From here, she could see the mans face was scarred. What was that foolish girl thinking? A prison guard, and a fright to look at, too.
The door creaked open. In they came.
“Fionas brought her man home.”
“Ah, just the fellow I wanted to see,” smirked the constable. “Need to check his release papers. See what sort of chap your new son-in-law is.”
“Go on, then. Theyre having lunch. Not that hes *my* son-in-lawnever will be.”
***
Agnes went to fetch the boynot that he was hard to find, running about with the lads. Still, she dawdled, chatting with the neighbours. Like it or not, shed have to go back.
Her eyes fell on the massive logs by the shed. No way she could split those. She grabbed the axe and started chipping away at the smallest one. She swung againbut a strong hand caught the axe mid-air.
“Let me have a go, Aunt Agnes.”
“Fine,” she muttered, scowling at the newcomer.
He ran a thumb along the blade and shook his head. “You got a sharpening stone?”
“In the shed. My husbands old workshop.”
***
The man stepped inside, eyes widening at the tools. Everything still in place. He flicked on the grinderstill worked. Sharpened the axe, then took up the splitting maul beside it.
Outside, he cleaved the logs clean in two, then chopped them into firewood. By evening, the pile was stacked neatly in the shed.
Agnes came out, arms crossed. But for the briefest moment, the corner of her mouth twitched.
“That pile by the fencethe logs,” he said.
“Useless now.”
“Got the same problem at mine. Maybe between the two, we can fix one.”
They went to see old Tom down the lane. His chainsaw was knackered, but the sprocket was good, and the chain still had life.
“Take what you need,” Tom grinned. “If you get it running, you can saw up my logs too.”
***
Later, a neighbour called out, “Listensplit mine and haul em to the shed, and theres twenty quid in it.”
The job done, the man came home and laid the notes on the table. “Here, Aunt Agnes.”
She shook her head, but a pleased smile flickered. Cash was rare in the villagemost still traded in favours.
***
The next day, he tinkered with the rotavator. Planting season was coming. Then the boy came tearing into the yard, wild-eyed.
“We were sliding on the icebut Alfie got swept away! He cant get off!”
Agnes and Fiona bolted for the river.
The ice floe drifted further from the bank, the boy clinging to it. Upstream, massive slabs of ice bore downa jam mustve broken loose.
Fiona wailed. But the man was already in the frigid water, swimming hard. He hauled himself onto the floe just as another slab loomedtheyd be crushed.
“Listen, Alfie,” he said, gripping the boys shoulder. “Youre tough, yeah? When that big one hits, we jump. One shot. Got it? *Now!*”
He hurled the boy onto the next floe and leapt after, his leg scraping the jagged edge. Blood seeped through his trouser leg. Alfie stared at his own scraped palms.
The current quickened, carrying them towards the bend.
***
On the bank, the constable muttered, “Might not be done for yet. River turns sharp aheadand hes a clever one.” Then he sprinted for his Land Rover.
The man hugged the shivering boy. “Next test. That floe wont clear the benditll smash into the bank. Move to the far side.”
The impact sent them skidding onto the pebbled shore.
“Alive!” The man hauled Alfie up.
“Me arm hurts. And me leg.”
“Ah, youll live,” he grinned. “Be right by wedding day.”
“But its bleeding!”
“Walk it off. Roads that way.”
The boy rubbed his elbow. “Stings.”
“Quit whinging. Youre made of sterner stuff.”
***
Minutes later, the Land Rover skidded to a halt.
“Still in one piece?” the constable called.
“More or less,” the man said, wincing.
“Right, hospital. Now.”
***
Back home, Fiona sobbed into the pillow. Agnes paced by the window. The phones ringtone made them both jump.
“*Constable*,” the screen read.
Fiona snatched it up. “Are theyare they?”
“Alfies here, patched up good. Hold on.”
“Mum?” came the boys voice.
“Love, are you alright?”
“Course! Im not a baby!”
The constable took over. “See? Told you theyd be fine.”
Agnes yanked the phone away. “JohnJohn, what about *him*?”
“Stitches. Here, hes just come out.”
“Alright, Aunt Agnes?” the mans voice crackled.
“*Alright*,” she repeated, exhaling. The constables voice cut back in.
“Bringing em both home now.”
Agnes sagged with relief, then snapped at Fiona, “Enough lying about. The menll be starvingdoubt theyve eaten all day. She threw on her coat and reached for the potatoes again, scrubbing them with brisk, sure strokes. The oven door slammed shut just as the headlights swept across the window. When the door opened, cold air rushing in, she didnt look upjust nodded at the stove. Dinners ready when you are. And for the first time since the train pulled in, she meant it.
