Every Mother's Son by Val Wood

‘An’ you can come an’ work alongside o’ me any time you like.’
    Charles bent down to murmur, ‘I might well have to if my father finds out what I’ve been up to.’
    ‘Don’t you worry ‘bout that, sir.’ The man took the water. ‘Your father probably got up to mischief just ’same as you when he was your age, like we all did. When we were young and free and had no encumbrances.’
    Harriet called to Charles to come and eat. She had brought thick slices of bread stuffed with beef and spread with mustard, pork pie, apple pasty and jugs of steaming tea and cold fresh water from the pump.
    Charles sat down by her side and took the offered sandwich. ‘Don’t tell Daniel I’ve been eating his lowance, will you?’ he said, munching enthusiastically. ‘He’ll say I haven’t earned it.’
    ‘There’s plenty,’ she said. ‘I always do too much.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I think it’s because of my upbringing. There were times when there wasn’t enough to eat, so now I mek enough for ’next day too, and I don’t ever waste it. If we don’t eat it then ’pigs have it—’
    ‘And then you eat the pig.’ Charles smiled, and rolled over on to his stomach. ‘Did you—’ He stopped speaking and put a hand to his eyes to blot out the sun, the better to see Daniel and his stepfather coming towards them.
    ‘Did I what?’ Harriet said.
    Charles rolled over again, his back to Daniel and Fletcher. ‘Erm – I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. The sun has addled my brain.’
    ‘Didn’t know you had one,’ Daniel quipped as he sat down next to him. ‘Hope you haven’t eaten all ’pork pies.’
    ‘I’ll have some beef, please, Harriet,’ Fletcher said, adding, ‘How do, Master Hart. Come to help ’workers, have you?’ He took a gulp of water.
    ‘They wouldn’t let me play,’ Charles joked. ‘I did offer but I was sent to the kitchen as a scullion.’
    ‘Well,’ Fletcher said. ‘Nowt wrong with learning how ordinary folks live out their lives.’
    Charles gazed at him intently. ‘I wouldn’t say that any of you were ordinary, sir. You’re earning an honest living, which is more than I’m doing.’
    ‘Ah, but you’re gaining an education, which will prepare you for greater things.’
    ‘Like running a country estate,’ Charles muttered. ‘There’s no great esteem in that, surely? Not when it’s handed down to me as my right.’
    Harriet looked away, eyes averted from Fletcher.
    ‘You’ll be giving people work,’ Fletcher told him. ‘If people like your father didn’t employ them, what would country folk do? Not everybody can afford to buy a smallholding the way Tom and I did.’ He pointed to Tom, who was coming over to join them. ‘We run this farm to feed us and our livestock and mebbe share a small profit at ’end of ’year. Some folk would think that riches.’
    ‘And if we don’t get on with it,’ Tom interrupted, ‘we’ll not get this crop cut afore ’end of ’day.’
    ‘We’ve onny just sat down,’ Daniel objected.
    ‘Five minutes then.’ Tom joined them on the ground and Harriet handed him a pie; she knew he had an appetite like a sparrow and would only finish half of it. He thanked her, cast a glance at Fletcher and then at Charles, and nodded amiably.
    ‘I’ll have to go home,’ Charles told Daniel. It was well past six o’clock and the men were still working; Charles’s face and neck were sunburnt. ‘Mother will send out a search party if I’m not back in time for dinner. Can I come back later so that we can talk to your parents?’
    Daniel shook his head. ‘We won’t be finished for another couple of hours and Da will be too tired to talk. We want to get this field finished and dried off ready for threshing. Let’s leave it for now. There’s no hurry, is there?’ He was anxious about his mother’s reaction to the news that he really would like to go away; he knew how she felt about the brother who had never returned and would