Now Mary Does Everything She Can! If Her Husband Is Gone, She Lives for Her Children. She Rushes Between Them, Hoping for Something from Them. But What About Them? Not Building Fences or Painting Walls… They Compete With Each Other. So, What’s Happening in the Village Now?

“Afternoon, ladies! What scandal are we hashing out today? Move over, let me catch the news. Youll never hear or see such nonsense on telly,” chirped Robert, already looking far too pleased with himself. The ladies giggled and shuffled aside to make room for him.

“Where have you been?” my aunt asked.

“I popped into the shop. Had a bit of a disaster, really. My wife left me…”

The old lady shrieked, “You must be joking, dear!”

“Shes run off with my mate. Said Im not a real man if I dont have a job.”

My aunt was stunned: “Hold on, isnt he out of work as well? Whats the difference between the two of you then?”

Robert just shook his head. “I havent a clue.”

With that, Robert left, and my aunt muttered, “Here come the men! Not a thing to do, yet expect to live off a woman. And Robert… He was quite the chap once! Handsome as anything! But when his wife and child went, he was never the same. His friend? First landlord in the village, if you please! And Mary cracking cook! Her husband trotted off so now she lives for the kids. Or does she? She scampers from one bloke to the next, waiting for something, who knows what. Not like theyre building a fence or painting walls, mind you its a competition between them. Whats this village coming to? Used to be men took a stroll but worked hard. Now? No job, no family! Others scarper off from the village in search of greener pastures, naturally!

“And dont even start me off,” the old lady added. “Mine are scattered all over. They grace me with their presence every six months. I only see my grandkids in pictures. Back in the day, we all lived together. Parents, kids, all under one roof. Songs and chatter until late at night. Wed all pitch in for haymaking; the entire family and neighbours. Or dig the garden, all done in a day. Stay till evening, then back at it the next day. Nowadays, everyones got their own little patch and keeps to themselves.”

Mary came past just then, lugging hefty sacks, two children trailing behind like ducklings.

“Moving house, are you?” her aunt called out. Mary heaved a sigh.

“Yes, over to Michaels. What else can I do? At least hes got a pension coming in. And poor Robert, whats he got? Nothing. Ive got to get the kids sorted. Were skint. You cant survive on child benefits, wed have been asking for help long ago. I think Ill head for the city in spring, buy a tiny house, and manage without men. Had enough, really. They wont lift a finger unless you prod them. But they always want feeding. Theres nothing for me here in the village. My eldest will start school soon. Whos going to take him? My daughter needs nursery. Ill find myself a job. Feels wrong to leave. Born and raised right here but needs must. Right, Im off. Otherwise Michael will be hunting me all around the village. Cheerio, ladies,” Mary announced, picked up her bits and bobs, and disappeared.

“Shes not wrong,” murmured my aunt. “Marys still young, got children to raise. Id do the same. And now, where to go? Shame to leave the house. My late husband built it, thought the kids would stay. Once, I got lost out picking mushrooms folks used to wander up and down the lanes, now its all overgrown. Well make do. At least the pension pays the bills. Off I go,” my aunt declared, getting up, “the farm wont run itself. Cows to milk and chickens to feed. See you tomorrow.”

The old lady sat alone for ages, recalling how life had been, raising her children. Years slipped by. Only God knew how many were left in her pocket. As soon as dusk fell, she went inside. No need to turn on the light; straight to bed. Never bothered with it. Her gran hadnt seen anything for three years anyway.

Mary never left the village in the end. She stayed put. Didnt fancy changing her life after all. So long as there are people, the village endures. Loads of deserted villages around just ramshackle houses and the graveyard, and folks come to pay respects only once a year.