Peter grew up in a large family: his father, a heavy drinker, bounced from one job to another, while his mother struggled to keep her postal job and manage the housework, doing everything she could to provide for their three children.

Peter grew up in a large family. His father, fond of a drink, drifted from job to job, while his mother toiled at the village post office and took care of all the housework, straining every sinew to feed her three children.

As the eldest, Peter helped his motherminding his younger sisters, fetching water and firewood, and later, when the girls grew, they too became little helpers about the home. By that time, though, their father was gone, having poisoned himself with something foul hed drunk with his friends.

Life did not grow any easier for the family.

His mother would sigh, lamenting her wayward husband:
He might have been a drunk, but at least he was quiet about it. And however little, he still brought in money Oh, silly old John, whatever possessed you to leave us like this

Not wishing to hear his mother crying, Peter would finish his tasks quickly and slip out of the house. At dusk, he would join the other children at the old, abandoned house on the edge of the village. No one had lived there for years, and its broad, sturdy steps served as benches for the village youngsters.

They perched there like sparrows, cracking sunflower seeds and taking turns telling storiessome made up, some true.

Peter never had a penny to his name for sunflower seeds, and his mother, always strict with money, never bought them. But his neighbour and friend Alice would always share hers with him. She’d do it quietly, as if it were a secret, slipping sweet, oily seeds into his pocket or palm when no one was watching.

Peter would whisper his thanks and eat them with delight, as did the other children. He often thought Alice sat nearby just so she could share her treats with him. At first, he was embarrassed, but soon it seemed the most natural thing in the world to settle next to his kind and generous friend.

Yet Peters conscience would not let him accept things for nothing. After a time, he began to drop by Alices garden in the afternoons when she was at work among the vegetables. Hed greet her with the same question:
Are your parents at work?
Yes, where else? Theyre always working about now.

Then Peter would kneel among the beds and weed swiftly and neatly, whiling away the time with cheerful chatter.

Alice never minded his help; she liked the company, and work was lighter for the two of them. Afterward, she would fetch hot tea and a plate of cakes and sweets into the little orchard behind her house. Peter always fussed, pretending to refuse, but Alice wouldnt let him off until hed eaten his fill and drunk his tea.

Sweets were a rare treat in Peters houseperhaps only on holidays. Secretly, then, he was grateful for Alices warmth.

Peter studied hard, too, never wanting to lag behind, though lessons were no easy matter for him. Sports, though, that was his elementhe outshone them all. So, after he finished school, he enrolled at the local college to study physical education. Alice, meanwhile, became a nurse.

As adults, they rarely saw one another, except when both returned to the village for holidays. Peter was unrecognisable, the skinny boy grown into a strong, athletic young man, while Alice remained just as blue-eyed and sweet-faced, slender and smiling.

She married early. Her parents died in a dreadful accident, and she sought comfort in marriage, eager to build a new family and escape her grief.

When Peter heard Alice had quickly wed Ian, a loud and lively lad from their village, he was shocked. He never thought they suited one another at all. Yet the young couple set about their life, and within a year, a son was born.

Peter did not rush into family life himself. Much to his mothers surprise, he soon proved himself an excellent organiser at his job in the citys sports school. Before long, he was appointed manager of the local sports centre.

By then, Peters sisters had already started families of their own and moved to the city. Alices marriage, however, soon soured.

So it goes for her, Peters mother confided. Alices husband is the spitting image of your fatheralways somewhere out drinking, not caring for his child or his wife. What a shame. How I understand her sorrow!

Peter struck the table with his fist.
What a rotter! Why did she ever marry him? She was well off before. Now theres nothing but misery. Just like our father Nothing good comes of it.

Its true, his mother said, shaking her head. Hes pawned everything for drinkher tape player, his own clothes, her parents crystal, and even down to the tea towels. And some scoundrels buy the lotthey know full well its for gin, yet they still buy

Is she in need then? Asking to borrow? Peter asked his mother directly.

No, she never asks, but moneys tightdesperately tight. She earns just pennies. And from him? Absolutely nothing. Poor girl

Peter paced about, clearly deep in thought. Seeing shed said too much, his mother put her hand on his arm:
Dont go getting involved, Peter lad. Its not our place. Other peoples marriages are a mystery. If she stays with him, it must be for love.

So Peter sat down beside his mother and shared how, in their childhood, Alice had fed him sunflower seeds, pies, and always had a sweet or tea for him. He couldnt stand the thought of his one-time friend now struggling alone with a young child.

What are you going to do, Peter? his mother asked, worried. Dont lay a finger on that good-for-nothing! Let the grave sort him out. I dont want to visit you in prison. There are better ways you can help her.

Peter nodded, left for the city, and a couple of days later returned with his car loaded fulltwo sacks, a few boxes, and bags of groceries and clothes.

Whats all this? Youre not coming home to stay with me, are you, Peter? What a joy if you did! At last, one of my brood near me

No, Mum, thats not it. My work is in the city, and I have a place. Ive just brought you some groceries. You see for yourself. Dont mind the sacks of seedsAlice will understand. Id be embarrassed to give it all to her myself, so you manage it as you think best. Keep some for yourself, make sure she and the boy get some too.

And what about your sisters, Peter? Dont they need anything?

You know I send them money for every holiday. Theyve good husbands, both of themnever wanting. Thank the Lord.

Yes, thank the Lord, his mother echoed.

I must be off. Dont be shy. Help Alice quietly, so the neighbours dont see much, but make it regular. When theres no more, let me know, and Ill bring more. Youll never go hungry while I can do something about it.

Peter hugged and kissed his mother and departed. The old woman carried the sacks to the larder. Inside were the finest sunflower seeds shed ever set eyes on.

Heavens, Ill roast these tonight! What a treat! she exclaimed, happy as a child.

The boxes held condensed milk, tinned meat, flour, pastas, and sacks of sweets, which she took to the parlour and placed in her cabinet, marvelling at her sons generosity.

Hed often brought food home from townboxes of chocolates, fresh sea fish, all her favouritesbut this time was something extra.

Oh, Peter, youre my heartbeat, my boy. Only, where is happiness waiting for you?

The mother did just as Peter asked. Every week, she called on Alice in the evenings, slipping a parcel under her coat.

At first, Alice would not accept the treats, but when she received a whole bucket of sunflower seeds, she knew at once from whom all these gifts came.

She burst into tears, plunged her hands into the shiny seeds, running them through her fingers. Then she said to Mrs Brown:
Please thank Peter for me. Imagine, after all these years, and he still remembers. I am so grateful. But tell him not to worry anymorewell be all right. Ive filed for divorcetwo weeks ago. Soon this bad chapter will be over. I hope.

Mrs Brown just nodded and made her way home, lost in thought. Now Alice would be a free woman and her son still unwed.

Well, I never muttered Mrs Brown. What will come of this? Could my Peter really be thinking of marrying her?

Time passed. Mrs Brown carried gifts to Alice faithfully, and they shared tea together. Each time, Alice, a little embarrassed, accepted the groceries, promising one day to pay it all back.

And Mrs Brown would gently chide:
Its not for you, but for your little boy. If youre too proud, dont deny him a bit of kindness. God works His help through others, after all. So it must be.

Alices divorce went through, and shed been living alone for a year. She was brighter now, new curtains hung in her kitchen, her son went to nursery and was the image of his mother.

Sometimes Mrs Brown would babysit for little Victor, and he called her Grandma. Peter visited his mother often, always bringing Victor a new toy. He and Alice would meet at his mothers house, drink tea, recall their youth, and never once mention Alices unhappy years of marriage. It was as though those four years had never happened.

Peter grew more frequent in his visits. His usual question was now:
Has Alice been by? Is Victor with you today?

To think, you might first ask about my health! his mother teased.

Sorry, Mum! How are you? hed reply with a smile, peering hopefully out the window.

Oh, never mind me! Go on, get yourself over there. Shes off today, and no doubt waiting. Stop playing cat and mousethe whole village is gossiping about you two. Go on!

Its always the way, Peter laughed. No sooner do you think of a thing than the neighbours start match-making!

He hugged his mother suddenly.

Whats this, son? she asked, surprised.

Thank you, Mum. You understand everything, and you take it all as it is. Thank you.

Mrs Brown made the sign of the cross over him and went to her cupboard of keepsakes. Peter dashed out to the porch, then back into the hallway to collect a bouquet of white chrysanthemums from his bag.

He strode along the lane to Alices little house, not caring who saw him. Let them talk! Just wait, everyone, he thought. Ill give them something to gossip about!

He approached the porch hed known since childhood, not realising that inside, Alice was holding her breath and watching him through the net curtain as he carried her the flowersHe knocked, and Alice opened the door with flour on her hands and a smudge of jam at the corner of her mouth. For a heartbeat, they simply grinned at one anothertwo old friends, a lifetime folded between them like a secret letter.

These are for you, Peter said, holding out the flowers, his voice bashful as a boys.

Alices blue eyes widened, filling with warmth. You remembered my favourites.

She stepped aside. Come in. Im bakingVictor insisted on biscuits, but hes managing to eat the dough as fast as I roll it.

Inside, sunshine poured through the kitchen window, and Victor, cheeks dusted white, greeted Peter with a sticky hug.

Peter scooped him up, feeling strong and hopeful all at once. He saw, in the embrace of mother and son, a future that had quietly waited for him. Once, he had been the boy with empty pockets and longing; now, he was the one offering comfort, laughter, and help.

He put the child down, then turned to Alice, his voice gentle but sure. Ive come to stay, if youll have me. No more slipping through lifes cracks. No more waiting. Lets make it good, together.

Her answer was soft but certain as sunlight: Stay. Please.

That evening, as dusk bloomed violet over the village, the three of themPeter, Alice, and Victorsat on the old steps behind the house, cracking sunflower seeds and telling stories, while laughter floated out into the quiet, listening world. For the first time, Peter knew he was exactly where he belonged.

And in the hush between heartbeats, with every crunch of a secret-shared seed, he tasted a happiness sewn patiently across the yearsone that could never be pawned, nor lost, nor left behind.