A Fly Buzzes at the Window: Vovka’s Journey from the City to the English Countryside—A Tale of Child…

A fly buzzed, thin and sharp, against the window pane. William opened his eyes. A golden ray of sunlight slid gently over his pillow and tickled his nose. He smiled and stretched luxuriously. It was cosy and warm beneath the duvet, and getting up was the last thing he wanted to do.

Mum? he called softly. Then a little louder, Muuum!

His mum walked into the room, drying her hands on her apron.

Awake, are you? What’s all the shouting for? She bent down and kissed his freckled nose. Good morning, my boy! Time to get up, my little rascal.

William threw his arms around her neck. She smelt of milk, bread, and something delicious and familiar. In the city, where they used to live, it was Williams dad who woke him up and got him ready for nursery every morning. Theyd do stretches, brush their teeth, splash each other with water and laugh, while his mum fussed around, urging them to hurry. But then, everything changed.

One day, his dad didnt come to collect him from nursery. William spent the evening with the caretaker until, late at night, his mum finally arrivedher face red and puffy from crying. That night, she told him his dad was gone, and that William was now the man of the house. He didnt really understand then, but later he gathered from the grown-ups that his father had died in a car accident, and some men repossessed their flat because of the car debts. Soon after, they moved to the countryside to live with his grandmother.

Their village was long, stretching alongside a river and finishing near a large forest. Thats where Granny Annie lived, and now so did William and his mum. His grandfather had died when William was very young, which meant William was the only man in the family now.

His mum and granny both worked on a farm. William found out a farm wasnt just fields, but a huge place full of pigs, cows, and even horses. His mum had shown him all the animals when she took him with her one daybut he hadnt liked it much; the stink was unbearable! Hed clamp his nose shut and his mum and granny would just laugh.

He pulled on his cold slippers and, still in pyjamas, hurried outside to the lavatory. The August Sunday morning air wrapped him in its coolness, and he shivered a little. Roosters were crowing here and there, and far off, dogs raised a racket with their barking and yelping. Granny appeared from the shed, grumbling:

Someones tried to dig under the chicken coop again. Must be that wretched fox!

Autumns nearly here, William thought with a heavy, grown-up sadness. I cant wait for school to start! The thought made his heart skip with excitementhe and his mum had got everything ready for school, and his new rucksack was simply brilliant! Hed even learned to read over the summerwell, more or less; his writing wasnt quite there yet.

They had porridge and pancakes for breakfast.

William, Granny and I thought wed go mushroom picking today. Want to comeor are you still too young? teased his mum, winking at Granny.

Of course Im coming! he protested, mouth full of hot pancake washed down with cold milk.

They set off just before noon. The woods were cool and green, though these were the last days of August. Mushrooms seemed to appear everywhere, but his mum told him to be careful and showed him which were edible and which ones were poisonous. They wandered for hours. Granny drifted far ahead and didnt answer when his mum shouted for her.

By the time the sun was sinking, his mum announced it was time to go home. Theyd filled a big basket and a bag with mushrooms, and Williams little bucket of mushrooms was heavy on his arms, but he didnt complain. After all, he was the man of the house now! Onlyhow to get out of the forest? His mum seemed uneasy. She didnt know the way. They tried one directionbog. Anotherdense deadwood. They had to turn back, and it wasnt long before the forest seemed to spin them in circles. They yelled for Granny, but the wind whistling through the aspens was too loud. Granny didnt reply. Williams mum sat down on the grass, at a loss. Five minutes passed. Suddenly, there was a crackling among the branches and out from the thicket stepped a real-life witch.

William froze. The old woman stooped over, tossed her bundle of sticks aside, and shuffled closer.

Frightened, are you? she croaked, winking at his mum, her toothless mouth stretched in a grin and her warty nose twitching comically. Dont worry, I havent eaten little boys in ages. She cackled, glancing at them slyly.

Lost, are you? she continued, ignoring their gaping faces. Youre Annies folk, arent you? She didnt wait for an answer, but hefted her bundle and headed off, pausing just long enough to huff, Well, dont just stand there with your mouths open, follow me!

With no choice, William and his mum obediently picked up their mushrooms and trailed after her. The old lady waded through tall grass, and soon a clearing opened up. In the distance was their village, and at the other side of the meadow, Granny Annie emerged from the woods. The old witch laughed her rasping laugh, waved her hand, and hunched over her sticks again, tottering toward the village.

Thank you Williams mum managed, but the woman only waved her off, as if brushing away a pesky fly, and hurried on.

Granny came up.

Mum, where have you been! Williams mother scolded desperately. We got lostthank goodness that old woman brought us out.

Natalie, how could you lose your way in a forest youve known since you were a child? Granny tutted.

Granny, was that the real witch from the stories? William asked, eyes wide with fright and awe.

Oh, dont be daft, Williamthats old Mrs Partridge! Still, she can be as mean as a witch on a bad day.

That evening, over supper, William suddenly asked, Granny, why do they call her Mrs Partridge?

Dont rightly know, but shes been called that ever since she was young. Folks say as a child she was very roundher family were well-off, big farm. Shed sit outside with a slice of bread and bacon, or a thick piece with butter and sugar sprinkled on top. The village kids would watch, starving for a bite, but shed never share, not even a nibble. No wonder she had no friends. She was so chubby, her belly led the way when she walked. The boys would tease her, calling, Careful, or your tummy will burst and your belly button will pop! I remember her as a grown womanshe was in her thirties when I was still a child. Had a boyfriend, Gordon the tractor driverhe was younger than her. She was a proper country woman; not slim, not pretty, but not ugly either, just a long nose if I recall. They married and had a son.

He was about eight one spring, when the river ran high. The men were sending logs downstream for building. The kids loved running over the logs, especially over the jammed bits. Jumping from one to anotherthey were wet and slippery. The bigger lads could climb out if they fell in, but Mrs Partridges boy was small and slight. He fell and a log struck him on the head as it rolled. He disappeared under the water, caught up in the logs. Took three days to find him, further down the river. Mrs Partridge lost her mind for a bit, and Gordon took to drink. The next winter they found him frozen in a snowbank near the foresthed left the pub after too much and run into a blizzard. Mrs Partridge got better, but shes been odd ever since and doesnt much talk to anyone. Fifty years alone nowshe keeps a goat, picks herbs, and only helps folk with her remedies if they beg her.

Granny fell silent. Mum began to clear the dishes.

Life hardly ever gives people an easy ride, Mum said thoughtfully. William felt a sudden pang of pity for Mrs Partridge.

September came, bright and crisp. Mornings were cold now, sometimes frosty; afternoons still warm as summer. The air was clear and pure, and the woods dressed themselves in russet and crimson. The potato harvest was in, and William had started school two weeks ago. Hed always remember his first September day: the teacher, kind but strict, took him by the hand to class, as he was the smallest and led the row.

There were no marks for first years, but Miss Francis always praised him and said he tried hard, but should practise writing to improve his hand. Hed made friends with two local boys, Sam and Colin, who were in year two. If their lessons matched, theyd all walk home together. As the school was on the other end of the village, his friends showed him the shortcutright across the overgrown wasteland and Mrs Partridges garden. Sometimes his mum or granny would meet him after school.

One particular afternoon, William was lucky. His teacher gave him two red stars in his exercise book and signed him up for the library. There, hed been given a book called The Magic Word. He was on top of the world walking home, even though Sam and Colin had one more lesson and he had to go alone, skirting junk and rubbish tossed all over the waste ground. You had to be careful where you put your feet!

Suddenly William heard a strange noise. Looking up, he froze. A pack of dogs stood ahead, surrounding him in a silent ring. He tried to turn and run, but it was too latethe dogs had him cornered. The biggest came forward, baring its teeth. William screamed, not hearing his own voice, as the dog lunged. He tried to shield himself with his rucksack, but the animal ripped it from him and began savaging it on the ground.

William fell, shielding himself with his hands, until he felt sharp teeth bite deep into his shoulderand then the world went black.

He never saw the bent figure of Mrs Partridge hurry across her garden, shovel in hand. She vaulted the fence with surprising speed and began swinging wildly at the frenzied dogs. For a moment they hesitatedfrom shock or surprisebut there were too many, and blood was in the air. The pack circled, closing in. Mrs Partridges shouts rang out as she fought, but then the lead dog jumped on her hunched back and sank its teeth into her neck. Losing consciousness from pain, Mrs Partridge collapsed on top of William, covering him with her battered old skirt.

The village was usually empty at this hour: kids at school, grown-ups on the farm or in the fields. The vet and his assistant were coming back from town, planning for cattle feed and vaccinations. Off the lane, the vet saw movement in the grass and heard snarling.

Charlie, pull in by Mrs Partridges plot, will you? Somethings going on.

Charlie swung the car around and drew closer. The scene stopped them cold. The dog pack, blood-spattered, stood poised, and the ground was a mess of torn-up books, exercise books, and blood. An old woman lay face-down, her arm chewed down to the bone. A big dog stood on her back, tearing at her neck.

The two men ran from the car, grabbing anything for weapons and beating the dogs away. The dogs leapt at their legs and chests, but Charlie swung the bloody shovel, wading in. Dogs howled and barked. From the distant village, people ran up brandishing pitchforks and shotguns, firing shots into the air. The pack leader howled, raised his head, then bolted for the woods, the rest following.

Mrs Partridge groaned. Only then did the men see there was someone else under her.

Charlie, call an ambulance. The old lady might be alive!

Lifting Mrs Partridge, they foundpale, blood-soakedWilliam, still unconscious.

A slant of autumn sunshine played across Williams nose as he awoke. The unfamiliar white of the hospital walls seemed stern and frightening. He moved his hand.

His mother, sitting beside him, leant forward eagerly.

William, love, youre awake! She burst into tears.

His arm and shoulder were swaddled in bandages and aching fiercely. He remembered everything.

Mum? Did the dogs bite my arm off? Will I ever be able to write again?

No, darling. Its not gone, just torn. The doctors fixed it up. Youll be better by the time you get married, she joked, smiling bravely. Thank Mrs Partridge. She covered you with her own body. Rest now, love

Mrs Partridge was buried by the entire village. Both arms and a leg were mangled by the dogs; her heart failed her on the operating table.

The next day, angry villagers secretly shot all the feral dogs, despite the authorities. They buried over forty carcasses in a pit by the woods. In the forest, they found puppies in dog dens, which the villagers took home to raise safely.

William missed only one term at school. His arm still wasnt right for writing, but he worked on it every day. Miss Francis praised his effort, and the lads looked up to him as a hero.

He and his mum brought a big bouquet to Mrs Partridges grave. The plaque on the cross read that her real name was Rachel Partridge, and she had turned ninety the day she died. His mum wept at the grave.

Life works in the strangest of ways, doesnt it? Thank you, Mrs Partridge, his mum whispered. Thank you for showing us the way out of the forest, and especially for saving my son. May you rest in peace.

At the schools Christmas play, when the witch appeared by the Christmas tree, William suddenly burst into tears and left the hall, his arm throbbing. He remembered Mrs Partridge.

And he realised, as only a child can, that sometimes the very people we fear or dont understand are the ones who show us courages true facethe ones who give everything to save us. Everyone has a story, and every story matters.