was hoarse from calling his name, and in the falling dusk her lantern spread a pathetic beam of light.
She knocked on the miller’s door and Andrew opened but said that no, wee Mark hadn’t been up here, but maybe he was in the… he jerked his head in the direction of the isolated shed that Matthew had used to harbour Sandy during the summer.
Andrew walked her over: a large, handsome boy with an engaging grin and the IQ of a hamster. But no Mark there either, and Alex had to work hard to stop herself from crying, smiling a quick thanks at Andrew before hurrying off to… She stopped mid step. Surely Mark wouldn’t have done something that dangerous? She eyed the swollen river with misgiving. After a month of heavy rains the millpond was overflowing into a churning millrace, spilling back with a froth of angry water into the normally placid little river.
She fell as she made her way down the river bank, sitting down hard on her rump.
“Shit,” she muttered, looking at the water with dismay. Not deep, not for her, but Mark was not quite six. She took off shoes and stockings, bunched her skirts up as high as they would go and with lantern in one hand and skirts in the other waded through the cold waters towards the gnarled oak.
“Mark?” Her throat hurt with the effort. “Mark? Are you there?” There was a rustling motion over her head. “Mark? Come down son.” He did, appearing by her side so suddenly that she gasped.
He was wet to well above his waist, and when Alex threw her arms around him he began to cry. She sat down and held him as close to her as she could, rubbing her hands up and down his sodden clothes.
“We have to get you out of this,” she said and stood him up, stripping off breeches and stockings. She took off her shawl and wrapped it around him, took him back into her lap and rubbed him some more.
“What happened?” she asked once Mark had calmed down. He buried his face against her and refused to answer.
“Mark, tell me. Did Ian hurt you?”
Mark began crying again, and Alex shushed and patted him, telling him things would be alright, she was here, wasn’t she, and no one would hurt her boy as long as she was around. Mark relaxed, his small body heavy in her hold, and she sat rocking him back and forth.
“He said he’s Da’s son,” Mark said, and for an instant Alex was sure her heart stopped.
“Really?” She even managed to inject her voice with mild incredulity.
“He said Hillview should be his – his father told him so, that it should be Ian’s.” Mark took a deep breath. “Is it true? Is he Da’s son?” He looked at her from under a curtain of tousled hair.
Alex hugged him close. “Listen to me, Mark Graham. Your father has two boys; Mark and Jacob. That’s it. Ian must have misunderstood.”
“But he said…” Mark sounded hesitant.
“What?” Alex said.
Mark looked away. “He said Da said so as well,” he whispered.
Somehow Alex managed to laugh. “He did?” She laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, I’m not sure what Ian might have heard, but he got it all wrong.” Alex rose and extended her hand to Mark. “Now, we have to get home and I hope you can find your way back in the dark, because I’m not sure I can.”
Mark puffed up; of course he could. Alex stifled a small smile and let him lead her in the direction she had come.
They met Simon and Matthew halfway back, and Matthew rushed towards them.
“You should be spanked,” Matthew said, hugging his son. “You’ve had your poor mama out looking for you for hours.” He handed Mark to Simon. “Now you go with Uncle Simon, and it’s supper and bed directly, aye?”
Mark nodded and burrowed his face into Simon’s neck .
“Are you alright?” Matthew peered at Alex. She leaned against him, exhausted. She wanted to be carried as well, fed and tucked into bed.
“Tired, and wet, and very hungry, and pissed off at Ian.” And at you, she added silently, for words you slung at your
She knocked on the miller’s door and Andrew opened but said that no, wee Mark hadn’t been up here, but maybe he was in the… he jerked his head in the direction of the isolated shed that Matthew had used to harbour Sandy during the summer.
Andrew walked her over: a large, handsome boy with an engaging grin and the IQ of a hamster. But no Mark there either, and Alex had to work hard to stop herself from crying, smiling a quick thanks at Andrew before hurrying off to… She stopped mid step. Surely Mark wouldn’t have done something that dangerous? She eyed the swollen river with misgiving. After a month of heavy rains the millpond was overflowing into a churning millrace, spilling back with a froth of angry water into the normally placid little river.
She fell as she made her way down the river bank, sitting down hard on her rump.
“Shit,” she muttered, looking at the water with dismay. Not deep, not for her, but Mark was not quite six. She took off shoes and stockings, bunched her skirts up as high as they would go and with lantern in one hand and skirts in the other waded through the cold waters towards the gnarled oak.
“Mark?” Her throat hurt with the effort. “Mark? Are you there?” There was a rustling motion over her head. “Mark? Come down son.” He did, appearing by her side so suddenly that she gasped.
He was wet to well above his waist, and when Alex threw her arms around him he began to cry. She sat down and held him as close to her as she could, rubbing her hands up and down his sodden clothes.
“We have to get you out of this,” she said and stood him up, stripping off breeches and stockings. She took off her shawl and wrapped it around him, took him back into her lap and rubbed him some more.
“What happened?” she asked once Mark had calmed down. He buried his face against her and refused to answer.
“Mark, tell me. Did Ian hurt you?”
Mark began crying again, and Alex shushed and patted him, telling him things would be alright, she was here, wasn’t she, and no one would hurt her boy as long as she was around. Mark relaxed, his small body heavy in her hold, and she sat rocking him back and forth.
“He said he’s Da’s son,” Mark said, and for an instant Alex was sure her heart stopped.
“Really?” She even managed to inject her voice with mild incredulity.
“He said Hillview should be his – his father told him so, that it should be Ian’s.” Mark took a deep breath. “Is it true? Is he Da’s son?” He looked at her from under a curtain of tousled hair.
Alex hugged him close. “Listen to me, Mark Graham. Your father has two boys; Mark and Jacob. That’s it. Ian must have misunderstood.”
“But he said…” Mark sounded hesitant.
“What?” Alex said.
Mark looked away. “He said Da said so as well,” he whispered.
Somehow Alex managed to laugh. “He did?” She laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, I’m not sure what Ian might have heard, but he got it all wrong.” Alex rose and extended her hand to Mark. “Now, we have to get home and I hope you can find your way back in the dark, because I’m not sure I can.”
Mark puffed up; of course he could. Alex stifled a small smile and let him lead her in the direction she had come.
They met Simon and Matthew halfway back, and Matthew rushed towards them.
“You should be spanked,” Matthew said, hugging his son. “You’ve had your poor mama out looking for you for hours.” He handed Mark to Simon. “Now you go with Uncle Simon, and it’s supper and bed directly, aye?”
Mark nodded and burrowed his face into Simon’s neck .
“Are you alright?” Matthew peered at Alex. She leaned against him, exhausted. She wanted to be carried as well, fed and tucked into bed.
“Tired, and wet, and very hungry, and pissed off at Ian.” And at you, she added silently, for words you slung at your
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