Mother

Mother: Complete Story

Cornwall, High World, 1438

Water ran between Drusilla Succo's fingers, warmed by the outside air seeping into the cottage. It was finally summer, and so there were less excuses for the boys to make about bathing. No "It's too cold" or "I may freeze".

Drusilla took her hand out of the water, watching as it swirled in the old bucket, just big enough for her boys. Soon, she'd need a bigger one for Christian, who was getting a little cramped. This she was aware of, but refused to think about: the thought of her children growing up saddened her.

The strong scent of flowers passed under her nose, tickling her nostrils with their pretty scent. Drusilla turned to greet the smell as Edward stepped over the threshold, a bunch of lavender in his dirty hands.

"Got some fresh flowers," he remarked, setting the lavender in Drusilla's clay vase on the table. "People are saying the miasma will be bad this summer. Thought we better be prepared." He smiled, obviously pleased with himself despite only accomplishing a small task, but Drusilla couldn't help smiling back. There was something about her husband's smile -- the way his eyes crinkled, or lips turned lop-sided -- that lifted her spirits a little.

"Thank you, Darling. I'm certain the boys will help you pick the next lot," she replied, patting her wet hands on her dress and straightening up. "Speaking of the boys, they need a bath."

Edward chuckled, his hazel eyes crinkling again. "I believe they're rolling around outside the Smith's house. Might be a task getting them inside. They love the sun."

"Well then, wish me luck," Drusilla replied as she headed out into the summer air, leaving Edward to finish his flower arrangement.

The sun was still shining, pouring its light over the little village. Despite it being late afternoon, the village was still filled with the sound of chatter, the sunlight feeding the villagers' energy. Drusilla made her way down the path squashed between houses, the stench of the dirt walls making her miss Edward's lavender. The main lane was up ahead, lined with bright flowers planted by worried villagers trying to protect their children from illness. Drusilla was about to stroke one of the many petals, attracted by their beautiful colour, when the sound of fast footsteps caught her attention.

Drusilla just had time to look up before a little boy collided with her, exploding with giggles. He stepped back, grinning that oh-so similar expression he shared with Edward.

"Where's Chris?" he asked, wiggling his small body. He had always been a ball of energy, constantly moving. "He's hiding from me." 

"I don't know," Drusilla replied, crouching down and tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her son's ear. This close to him, she could see the faint freckles spread over his nose, just like his grandfather's. "We better go find him."

Still grinning, he nodded, then turned and ran away up the path, his arms swinging by his side.

"Wait!" Drusilla shouted, rushing to catch him. "Charlie, wait for me! Don't run off!"

She knew she was waisting her energy -- Charlie was much faster than her, and probably already half way down the village. She picked up her pace, reaching the lane and gazing down it, her eyes set on the far houses.

"Charlie! Get back here!" she yelled, her hands on her hips as she tried to spot her youngest son amongst the trees.

It only took a moment for Charlie to reappear, his hair bouncing as he ran towards his mother. Drusilla took a step forward to greet him, but Christian beat her to it, leaping suddenly from behind a hay bale and colliding with Charlie. The two of them tumbled across the dirt, a ball of laughter.

"Ah!" Charlie shouted between giggles, "Chris, get off!"

Christian guffawed, his long hair in tangles. Being three years older than Charlie, he was taller and heavier, and he was using it to his advantage. "You get off!"

"Both of you get off," Drusilla demanded, reaching down and bending an arm around Charlie, hoisting him off the ground. He kicked out as she rested him against her shoulder, his hair covering his beautiful blue eyes.

"But mother," Christian whined, wiping mud off his clothes and taking a step towards her. Unlike Charlie, Christian had his father's eyes, the colour of sun on the branches of a willow tree. "Everyone else is outside! Why can't we play outside?"

Drusilla grabbed his hand and began pulling him back towards the path leading homeward. "You both need a bath," she replied, and braced herself.

"No!" Charlie gasped, beginning to wriggle again. Drusilla fought to keep him in place. "Not bath!"

"Yes, bath," she replied. "You're covered in mud."

"No I am not!"

"Yes, you are!"

Once off the main lane, Drusilla could see Edward ahead, emptying waste into a cesspit near the house. He turned at the sound of Charlie's voice, his face lighting up at the sight of his children.

Drusilla let go of Christian's hand as Edward called his name, watching as he ran off towards his father. She then lowered Charlie to the ground, and turned him in Edward's direction.

"Go see your father," she told him. "I saw some flowers earlier that we could add to the vase. I'll be home soon."

Charlie ran off into his father's arms, and Drusilla couldn't help smiling: the sight of all three of her boys made her heart swell with love.

Once they were safely inside, she headed back to the main lane looking out for the flowers she had spotted before. She turned to look down the rows of plants, gazing around her until her eyes landed on something that made her forget about the flowers.

There were two figures in the centre of the lane. One was a young girl, no older than sixteen, her eyes on the red haired man beside her. She seemed rather fixed on the gentleman as he spoke, but it was their attire that caught Drusilla's eye. They were dressed in outfits unlike anything she had seen -- the girl was even wearing trousers, made from an unfamiliar material. From the bright red of her shoes, Drusilla could tell she came from a wealthy family, but money was not what was on her mind.

Nobody else could see these two figures, as was apparent from the way villagers blanked their presence. No, this was something only Drusilla could see, and her chest tightened at the thought.

Even when she was far, far away, Betwixt World still managed to reach her.