THE FARMER AND THE BOY

It was the first of March when Alton Marion first came to our farm. Mummy had told me the night before I had to be awake especially early to wash properly before he arrived. Daddy grumbled and cursed him before he had even arrived but Mummy told him ‘we need all the help we can get’. She was right. When my brothers were here we could get by just the five of us. Our farm was one of the bigger ones in the county but we managed. We couldn’t really afford help in the off-seasons. But it’s been just us three for the last two years since they went away. Last time they wrote, Eli was in France and Bob was somewhere near Austria. They haven’t written in a while but Daddy says they’re fine and that the war will be all over soon and they’ll come home safe and sound. We’ll be a family again. But until then we have to make do. It was really hard last year, we almost didn’t make it. Daddy talked about selling up. We lost a lot of money, crops and some of our livestock too. We had some savings put aside, and Mummy and Daddy decided that for calving season this year we needed another pair of hands. There aren’t many boys left around Springhollow anymore, and the ones who are here are mostly sick or missing legs. Daddy said he didn’t want a ‘coward’ but that’s all that was left. That was Alton Marion. 

The morning he arrived, Mummy sat with me at the table, braiding my hair whilst Daddy paced in silence, staring out of the window at every tiny noise.

“Jacob, please, this won’t make him arrive any quicker,” Mummy tutted.

“He’s late. Bloody pacifists, can’t trust them with anything.”

“He said he would be here at 8 o’clock.”

“And it’s a quarter to it.”

Mummy sighed, adjusting my long auburn plait. “There you go, poppet.”

“Thank you, Mummy.” I hopped off the chair next to her and joined Daddy at the window. Something strange happened. There was a sharp pain in my right side near my hip. I placed my hand over it and grunted.

“Are you alright, poppet?” Mummy said, taking my hands in hers.

“I’m fine, Mummy.”

“Finally,” Daddy exclaimed, walking to the door as a little black automobile rolled to a stop. 

It was chilly that morning as we stepped outside. Mummy pulled her shawl around herself and encouraged me to hug into her side.

There were two men in the car. One I recognised as a local constable with a bushy grey beard and funny little scrunched up eyes. The other was our new farmhand. I had never really seen grown men before apart from Bob and Eli and Daddy. He was tall, really tall, taller than even Daddy with a wide chest and broad shoulders. His face was angular like a statue with bright green eyes like dewy grass and a big mop of messy, long, black hair that hung in front of his face. He didn’t look like the soldiers I had seen. 

“Mr Daly, Miss Emily, Miss Truly,” the constable greeted each of us. “Mr Alton Marrion. Your new farmhand. Fresh off the train from London. Any trouble and you know where we are.”

“Thank you, constable,” Daddy shook the older man’s hand before turning to Alton. “Will you be trouble, lad?”

“No, sir.” His voice had a strange accent I had never heard before, but it was deep and low. “I’m here to work.” His face was stern as he shook my father’s hand. 

“I’m Jacob Daly, my wife Emily, my daughter Truly,” he pointed over to us.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” Alton’s smile was kind and lovely like a little boy. He was so handsome. I’d never seen a more handsome man. My core was afflicted by a strange tingling. 

“Have you worked a calving season before, Alton?” Mummy asked.

His voice softened when he spoke to Mummy as did his eyes when he looked at her. “Yes, ma’am, a few.”

Daddy raised his hand. “I’ll ask you to keep your discussions with my family to a minimum. If you need to discuss something, it will be with me, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

There was a moment of silence before the constable dismissed himself.

“I shall leave you all to get acquainted.” He tipped his hat with a long, lingering sideways glance at Alton and promptly left.

“Right well, I’ll show you around.” Daddy directed him away from us towards the chicken coops.

Alton smiled at us again, following Daddy obediently. We waved them off as another hot, stabbing ache attacked my stomach sending me doubled over.

“Truly, what’s the matter?” Mummy rested her hand on my back.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” She wrapped her arm around my back and guided me back inside. Once the door was closed, she helped me stand up straight. A gentle smile crossed her face. “Oh, Truly.”

“What is it?”

“Look at your skirt, poppet.”

I hadn’t noticed the small, wet, red stain on the back of my skirt. “Oh.”

“Go and put a new dress on, I’ll be there in a moment. We’ll have a little talk.”

“Alright, Mummy.” I held my skirt away from my body as I slowly climbed the stairs and hid in my bedroom. 

It hurt all the way into my stomach. My knickers were deep red with blood as I pulled them down. Mummy always said this would happen eventually but she didn’t say how much it would hurt. Mummy knocked on the door not long after, letting herself in.

“Give them to Mummy, your dress too.” 

I quickly unbuttoned my light, white dress and handed it to her, pulling clean knickers and a new darker dress from my drawers. Mummy handed me a small sponge wrapped in cream cloth and told me to put it in my underwear.

“It’ll soak up the blood. Bring it to me tonight and I’ll show you what to do.”

“It’s Eve’s curse, isn’t it?”

“You’re a woman now, Truly.”

I pushed against the small bloat now inflating my gut. “It really hurts.”

“I know, Poppet. Get changed and we’ll go check on the chickens together.”

I adjusted the sponge into my underwear. It was uncomfortable but easier than staining another dress. 

Mummy was waiting for me by the door already holding my brown coat. I normally didn’t need it this early in the year but the cold had come in frightfully bitter.

“Did you get sorted?”

“I think so.”

“We’ll give your dress a good scrub tonight.”

“Are you going to tell Daddy?”

“Daddy doesn’t need to know. Our secret, alright?” She kissed the top of my head. “Now come on, we’ve got eggs to collect. We want our guest to have a proper breakfast before he starts his work, don’t we?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

I was never fond of our chickens, they used to peck at my hands, drawing blood, and run around my feet until I tripped over. But that morning they were all docile as if asleep. Crouching down was uncomfortable and I cradled my bloated stomach each time I stood with a new egg in hand. Daddy and Alton came marching over as we were finishing up. 

“Well?” Mummy asked.

“It’s beautiful, ma’am. It’s an honour to work on such land.” Alton said with no sarcasm. All the local boys were arrogant and insincere. They’d only gotten worse since the war started. Now they all wanted to be heroes. But not Alton, Alton wasn’t arrogant.

“We should eat before we start working,” Daddy said bluntly.

“Right, yes, of course, Jacob. Come on, Truly. We shouldn't keep the men waiting.”

She tapped me gently on the shoulder to rouse me from the trance-like state I had fallen into watching Alton standing there. Tall, broad, dark. I followed her into the house and stood by her side as she boiled our fresh eggs whilst I sliced the bread we made yesterday. Our kitchen was humble but spacious enough for Mummy and I to breeze around without bumping into anything. She kept it immaculately clean, scrubbing until her knees were red raw. We always ate around a square wooden table with uneven legs that barely could fit the five of us when my brothers were here.

“Tell me, lad,” Dad groaned, stretching out his creaking knees as he took his seat at the head of the table. “do you speak latin?”

“No, Sir.”

“Well, you best learn. We each take a turn to say a prayer before we eat.”

“I am not a Christian.”

Daddy was caught somewhere between a gasp and a chuckle. “Not a Christian?”

“No, Sir.”

“But you were baptised as a child surely?”

Alton twitched in his seat as he averted my father’s judgemental gaze. “No Sir, my parents were not Christian either.”

“Well, what are you then?”

“Nothing, Sir. I hold no belief in religion.”

I saw Mummy’s face drop in concern as she looked over her shoulder. The silence must have only lasted a few seconds but it felt like forever. I had never met someone who wasn’t a Christian before. Daddy said you could always tell because of how beastly and demonic they were. Perhaps that was the strange feeling that struck my heart when I looked at Alton, the way it thudded like it was trying to escape the confines of my ribs. Was that the devil’s work? Was I being lured into sin?

“You do not believe?”

“No, Sir, I do not.”

“May I ask why?”

“My answer might anger you.”

“Am I not your employer? Do you not owe me and my family honesty?”

“Jacob, leave the boy alone,” Mummy spoke gently.

“It’s alright, ma’am.” Alton turned to face Daddy. “I struggle to have faith in a being who sends thousands of young men to die in a war they did not start in his name. So with all respect to your faith and your family, I shall refrain from prayer until you can provide me something worth praying for.”

Daddy twisted his face into a scowl. “Do you expect to eat at my table without honouring the meal my wife has painstakingly taken the time to make for you?”

“I meant no offence, Sir.”

“Devil spawn sent here to corrupt us…”

“Jacob, don’t be a bad host.” Mummy encouraged as she peeled the shell off her first egg.

“It’s alright, ma’am.” He rose from his chair. “I believe you said I would find a spare bed in the basement.”

“You’re lucky you’re not out there with the rest of the swine,” Daddy all but spat. “When you’re done stuffing your face, we’ve got an old girl ready to burst.”

“Truly will show you the way.” Mummy handed me a plate with a slice of bread and two small boiled eggs. “Go on now.”

“Of course, this way.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he smiled at Mummy and I swear I almost saw her blush.

I led him down the rickety, dusty stairs into the small basement Mummy had made up last night with a bed, a broken chair and a small writing desk borrowed from Eli’s room. At the bottom of the creaky stairs I turned and passed him his plate without saying a word.

“Thank you, Miss Truly.” Now he was grinning at me all toothy and boyish. I felt my face go all warm as I ran back up the stairs.

I kept going up until I reached my bedroom, slamming the door shut. I squealed lightly, waving my hands by my head. He was going to be living in my basement. This is how Mummy must have felt when she met Daddy, I was certain. He was so beautiful, so soft-spoken with a smile like the stars and eyes twice as bright. He made me feel a strange warmth inside of me that didn’t dispel as I laid face first on my bed with my head in my pillow. My thoughts were not lustful, that would be a sin but I couldn’t face my parents again whilst my face was this flushed and my stomach this uncomfortable. I jumped, I spun, I shook my hands, I squeaked, I did everything I could to expel the overwhelming happiness and excitement flowing through me like blood. Once I was able to walk without a skip in my step and the redness had melted from my face, I splashed some water onto the back of my neck until my skin had cooled before returning. Daddy had finished eating and had already gone out.

“Poppet, will you go and collect Alton’s plate? Daddy called him out in such a rush, it must have slipped the poor boy's mind.”

“He’s already gone?”

“They’ll be back soon. We’ll eat, tidy up and then I’ll show you how to take care of yourself. Are you alright? You were up there for a while.”

“I’m fine just a little,” what was the word, “flustered.”

She smiled a strange half-smirk. “I’m sure you are, Poppet. Now get the plate before we get rats again.”

Down in the basement I could see the groove in the brown blanket thrown over his bed where he had sat. His plate had been cleared to the last crumb. His bags had arrived late last night and he had already begun to unpack his neatly folded but holey and worn shirts and frayed trousers, a small set of stationary and some thick books heavier than anything I’d ever read. My fingers lingered on his scuffed and unpolished shoes before Mummy called me. I took the plate back upstairs to her.

“Mummy, I have a question,” I said as I rolled the sleeves of my dress up and sat at the table.

“Can it wait until after breakfast?”

“I was wondering if I might take up some different chores today.”

“Truly Daly offering to do chores? What do you want?” She folded her arms and faced me.

“I couldn’t help but notice, a lot of Alton’s things are not very nice. I was wondering if I could fix them up for him.”

“Well, now that sounds lovely. Eat your food first, Daddy already said a prayer.” She placed my plate in front of me.

I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so fast in all my life. All I wanted to do was run back down there and go through all his things. It was strange, wanting to learn so much about another person. He drew me in and I didn’t know why. I had wolfed down my whole helping before Mummy had even sat down.

Two of his long, black hairs had fallen on his lumpy white pillow. I plucked them up and kept them in my pocket. I made his bed up properly, better than Mummy did with the edges folded neatly and everything straight just like Daddy taught me. I brought down the sewing kit I had gotten for my birthday many years ago and darned the holes in his shirts and socks before folding them orderly into the small chest of drawers we had dusted down last night. I set his books and stationary on the writing desk. I didn’t recognise any of the writers of his books. They all had funny names like Kafka, Nietzsche, and Freud. I gave the floors a good scrub and finished dusting every corner until it looked almost like a real bedroom. It still smelt damp and rotten but he’d get used to it. My final task was to sit down and polish up his two pairs of black boots. The first were practically falling apart but the leather was too tough to stitch through. I found some glue in one of Daddy’s tool boxes and fixed the soles back together. The others were scuffed up but were easily restored with a little polish. Everything was right, Alton would be so happy with me. Before I knew it, half the day had slipped right through my fingers. As I slid his now empty trunk under his bed I noticed something poking out of the mattress. It looked like another book, perhaps I’d dropped one. It was wedged in really tight. It was a lot smaller than the others but had another bizarre name — Marx. I placed it on the top of the pile with the others. I barely got a chance to admire my handy work before loud shouts rang from upstairs. 

“She is dying anyway!” Daddy yelled. “We save the calf.”

“That doesn't mean the Mother has to be in agony.”

“She won't know. She doesn't have feelings.”

“She will and she does.”

I ran up the stairs but Mummy was already with them, slotting herself in between, one hand on each of their chests. Daddy’s fists were clenched so hard his knuckles appeared white. “Jacob, what's wrong?”

“The fat old labouring Friesian isn't going to last the night. Her calf will and this moron wants to waste an entire day trying to save her.”

“Let me sit with her until she goes, let her spend a few moments with her child. Isn't that what you'd want?”

“It's a cow.”

“It's a living thing,” Alton shouted. “Aren't you a Christian? Don't all of God's creations deserve peace and love and kindness?”

“He's right, Jacob. She has been with us a very long time,” Mummy said, stroking Daddy’s arm.

He pulled her hand away forcing a gasp from her mouth. “We don't have the time to throw a funeral for every animal that dies in the world.”

“Daddy?” I asked, appearing from the door.

“Truly? What were you doing down there?”

Alton turned around and a flash of worry crossed his eyes.

“I think God would want us to help her.”

“Listen to your daughter, Jacob,” Mummy soothed.

“Been here six bloody hours and you're already turning my girls against me,” Daddy turned and stormed out. 

Alton rested his hand on the back of his neck and sighed loudly.

“Take a minute, lad,” Mummy said, rubbing her hands down his arms. “Jacob can be quite intense.”

“I can't see an animal suffer.”

“You stay out there with her as long as you need, lad. Truly will bring you a plate tonight.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Lad! Are you coming or not?” Daddy yelled. 

Alton breathed heavily and followed. They were out all day until it was dark outside. Mummy and I kept out of their way, in the kitchen cleaning and preparing food. Daddy, Bob and Eli always said the animals were just animals, they had no issue with them dying as long as it wouldn’t cost too much. Alton cared. He really cared. All the while as we chopped vegetables, Mummy looked blankly forward as if she was lost in thought, like she had forgotten I was there. She barely said two words to me all afternoon.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, Poppet?” She shook her head, clearing out the cobwebs.

“What’s a pacifist?”

“Oh…well…” she placed her small knife down, wringing her hands through the old, battered tea towel hanging from her apron. “Do you remember how excited Bob and Eli were to go away and fight? How Daddy said it was an honour when he had done the same?”

I nodded.

“Alton, doesn’t agree. He doesn’t consider war an honourable cause nor a soldier’s death an honourable end.”

“He’s not a soldier?”

“No and he never will be. Alton protested, that’s why he was sent to us, to keep him out of trouble. He tried to burn himself alive on the steps of a Government building.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

“You’d have to ask him. I couldn’t imagine such a thing.”

It was a frightening image. Alton all pretty and burnt up. I didn’t understand how anyone could think of doing that to himself. How could you hate war but want to do such a horrible thing? What could that ever achieve? It nauseated me.

“I found something in his room. I think he was hiding it. But I’m not sure if I should tell you.”

“Now, Truly, we don’t keep secrets from Mummy, only Daddy.”

“It was just a stupid book but he crammed it into his mattress really tight.”

“What book, Poppet?”

I shrugged. “The writer was called Marx.”

“Marx…” she stopped as her mouth slowly twitched. “Did it have a red cover?”

“Yes. I didn’t know the words on the front though, they didn’t even read like english.”

She rested her hands on my shoulders, gripping me tightly. “Truly, listen to me very carefully. You are to put that book back exactly where you found it and you are to never think of it again. Now, Poppet, go. And for that boy’s sake not a word of it to your Father.”

I stepped down off my stool and ran back down to Alton’s bedroom. I took the book off the pile, lifted his mattress and slid it back underneath. I turned to leave but I couldn’t help myself. I squatted down and retrieved it, opening to the first page.

A spectre is haunting Europe — the spectre of communism. All the powers of old Europe have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre: Pope and Tsar, Metternich and Guizot, French Radicals and German police-spies.

I didn’t understand any of it. I preferred books with happy endings and kind men and young girls in nice dresses. I didn’t understand why this would upset my parents so much. I put it back under and went back to the kitchen.

“Did you put it back?”

“Yes, Mummy. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You couldn’t’ve known.” She kissed the top of my head.

We finished preparing the vegetables in complete silence. I was curious about that boring old book. Perhaps it was some kind of pacifist handbook, something she really didn’t want Daddy to find, something that would send Alton away.

Daddy had a sixth sense for when our meals were almost made. Never in time to help but always on time to eat. I was laying three spots at the table when he returned. His hands were macabre with blood up to the elbow and his face was sweating with horror in his eyes.

“Jacob, what’s the matter?” Mummy asked as he sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, dripping blood on our lovely clean floor.

“It’s the devil,” he muttered.

“What is?”

“That calf. It’s the devil. Three eyes and two heads.”

“What?” Mummy said, placing her spoon down by the side of the large boiling stew pot.

“It’s not natural. Truly, will you say a prayer for us, for Daddy,” he barely whispered as he looked at his bloodied arms.

I didn’t have as many prayers memorised as Mummy and Daddy did. I hated having to recite them like this. I always got them wrong. “O my God, I firmly believe that Thou art…”

“Properly, child,” he snapped, raising his voice.

“Domine Deus, firma fide credo et confiteor omnia et singula quæ sancta ecclesia Catholica proponit, quia tu, Deus, ea omnia revelasti, qui es aeterna veritas et sapientia quae nec fallere nec falli potest. In hac fide vivere et mori statuo. Amen.” He called this the Act of Faith. It was one of the shorter ones which made it easier to remember. Latin was easier because they sounded like songs.

“Amen. Good girl,” Daddy reached over and gripped my hand. He was wet with the cow’s blood and other strange gunk. I wanted to pull away or cry out that he was gripping too tight. But when Daddy's angry, it’s best not to anger him further.

“Where’s the boy?” Mummy asked.

His grip tightened even more. “He refused to leave them. He’s sitting out there in their mess talking to them like they can respond.”

“Truly will take him something to eat.”

“She will do no such thing.” He turned sharply to me. “You will do no such thing.”

“The boy must eat, Jacob.”

“When he prays at our table in the tongue of our Lord, he may eat. He hasn’t even spent a night here and already the Devil has descended. A calf with two heads - that cannot be the Lord’s work. Truly, another prayer, in Latin, for Daddy, please.”

I stumbled over my revised verses. “Domine Deus, amo te super omnia proximum meum propter te, quia tu es summum, infinitum, et perfectissimum bonum, omni dilectione dignum. In hac caritate vivere et mori statuo. Amen.”

“Amen.” His eyes focused on Mummy. “Say it, Emily.”

“A-amen.” She stuttered before returning to her pot. “Clean up, we’ll eat soon.”

Daddy’s red hand finally let go of me. Resting against my cheek he smiled solemnly before leaving. Mummy hurried over to me and guided me to the sink where she washed me clean of blood. It smelt strange, not like regular blood.

“Don’t you worry, Truly, you know how silly Daddy can get. Once he is settled for the night, we will bring food and warmth to Alton.”

Daddy was washing his hands until the vegetables had started to burn, much to Mummy’s frustration. Not a moment after she had served us did he force her into her seat and instruct us to clasp his hands and bow our heads. The food was cold by the time Daddy finished our prayers that night. He kept repeating them over and over refusing to let go of our hands when we pulled away like a man possessed until Mummy yelled out,

“Jacob, enough, your daughter is frightened.”

I was. I must have shown it on my face. Daddy was never like this. He would not look us in the eye or speak above a pathetic whisper. His palms were sweaty and his skin scratched and red from where he had abrasively scrubbed the blood from his flesh. He stood without excusing himself, sending his chair skidding backwards. “I need a drink.”

“Jacob, please…” Mummy called after him.

“I need a drink, Emily,” he yelled back before slamming the door to his bedroom. We could hear him praying from down the hall.

Mummy had tears brewing in her eyes that she wiped with the heel of her hand before addressing me sternly. “Once you’re finished, take your father’s bowl out to Alton, I’ll give you a coat to take to him.” She stood up too, walking from the table and stepping outside into the crisp air of a spring evening starting to draw in dark. She didn’t move from the back doorstep all evening. 

I ate a few mouthfuls of the cold, burnt stew. It was even more disgusting than normal. LIke my parents, I left my bowl half-eaten. I took one of Alton’s jackets from his bedroom over my arm and carried the stew and a spoon in the other hand, setting off across the farm for the cattle shed far on the other side.

It’s funny. My eyes were drawn to the blood stained young man before the two-headed calf breathing shallow in his lap. He was sitting amongst the red stained hay with the dying mother to his side, cradling her calf, slowly stroking its deformed muzzle.

“Miss Truly,” he called out to me, beckoning me close.

“I brought you a coat and some stew but it’s not very nice.”

“Any meal made by your fair mother could never taste foul.”

“You haven’t tried it yet.” I placed the bowl by his side and offered him the coat.

“I don’t really feel the cold. Why don’t you keep it on?”

I was trembling in just my thin dress. I didn’t hesitate in wrapping it around myself. It was thick and warm and lined with fleece. I made myself comfortable next to him as I finally looked at the devil’s calf. She was oddly peaceful to look at. Scary at first. But she was small, her twisted legs couldn’t stand, every breath she took was a fight in herself, yet he still stroked her, keeping his other hand on her mother’s hind flank. 

“They’re both going to die, aren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so. Still, even the damned deserve to see the sunset one last time.”

The sky was burning red, so red the sun looked almost black against it, the fluffy clouds too. I was caught up in it until the stabbing pain in my right side returned, doubling me over.

“You’re in pain,” he placed his hand on my stomach. The cow’s blood was dried and didn’t stain. His big, rough, calloused hand was warm against me.

“It’s my bleed. My first one.”

“I was raised with sisters, may I?” Before I could answer he began to rub the pained area, pushing into my flesh. It ached  at first but relieved some of the deeper agony. “Does that feel better?”

“A little. Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Seeing him close enough to see the rough shaving of his dark stubble, his crooked bottom teeth, the odd red scarring on his neck that stretched down onto his shoulder, I still hadn’t shaken the image Mummy had stitched into my brain earlier. “Why did you set yourself on fire?”

“I didn’t set myself on fire. The police got to me before I could. I only caught a little.” He pulled his collar down exposing the large burn.

“Why would you do that? You could die.”

“That’s exactly why we did it. Too many boys are dying for a war they didn’t start. Others are being turned and indoctrinated into weapons for a government that doesn’t care if they come home alive, dead or in pieces. We wanted to show those stuffy, up-tight politicians how meaningless these murders are. How one death really doesn’t change a thing. That no life is unworthy enough to sacrifice like a pawn in a chess match. Do you understand, Miss Truly?”

I didn’t but I nodded. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you a question too,” he lifted his hand away, returning it to the two-headed calf’s face. “When you cleaned my room, did you find anything you maybe shouldn’t have found?”

“The red book in your bed? Mummy told me to put it back and forget I ever saw it. And not to tell Daddy, ever. I read a little but I didn’t understand it.”

“I have a feeling you will, one day. You all will.”

“What’s it about?”

He ignored my question. “How old are you, Miss Truly?”

“God willing, I’ll be 15 by the summer.”

“You’re young. You’ll have plenty of time for boring, old politics.”

“Can I stay out here with you for a while? Mummy and Daddy are fighting again.”

“Of course.” He gently reached over, taking my hand to the calf’s terrified face. “Stroke her, she likes it.”

She was still wet from birth with her fur patchy and bloody but she was calm beneath our touch. She wasn’t a devil at all.

“Daddy said you brought evil to the farm.”

“Does this little one seem evil to you?”

I shook my head.

“Your Daddy wanted to turn his gun on her. I told him she won’t see morning but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve to see her first night, her first moon, her first stars. She doesn’t have to know they’re her last. If I were this weak, I’d want to see the world as I passed, not the barrel of a shotgun. Wouldn’t you?”

“Can I say a prayer for her? Just to be safe.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea.”

“O Saviour of the World, by Your cross and precious blood You have redeemed us: guard your servant and help her, we humbly pray, O Lord. O Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world: have mercy on her and grant her Your peace. Amen.”

She died not long after that. It was slow but without struggle. She simply stopped. Her eyes fell shut and her body became heavy in his lap. I’d seen lots of animals die but I felt strange seeing this one. Like a small part of my heart was being twisted. Alton had tears in his eyes as if he’d lost a relative or a friend and not an abnormal, deformed cow on a stranger’s farm, hundreds of miles from home.

“Do you reckon cows go to Heaven like people do?” I asked. “I know you don’t believe in Heaven but…”

“I think this one will.”

“Is that why you don’t like war? Because you don’t think the soldiers will go to Heaven?”

“All I want, before I go like our little friend here, is to see a world that can live with itself with some kind of peace where we don’t have to slaughter each other like animals.”

“My brothers are both soldiers.”

“They’re the real victims. They think they’re doing something brave.”

I folded my arms. Daddy said they were courageous heroes, that they were going to bring pride to our family and save the country. “They are doing something brave.”

“There’s nothing brave about being a sacrifice. No one who is sent away is meant to come back.”

“Do you think they’re already dead? That’s what Mummy thinks but Daddy won’t hear it.”

He didn’t answer. He turned instead to the cow who, as if she knew her baby was gone, breathed her last also. “There you go, mother, rest now. Find your baby.” He patted her rump.

“Is she gone too?”

He nodded, a tear falling down his cheek. “Can you imagine dying with no one by your side?”

“I wouldn’t want that.” Tears were filling up my own eyes. It was so silly. I had lost count of how many carcasses I had seen over the years. I didn’t understand why these ones stung so much.

“That’s why I don’t like war.” He heard my gentle sobs begin and pulled me against him. “There, there, Miss Truly. She doesn’t have to be in pain anymore. She gets to be with her daughter again. Let's get you back to the house before you catch the flu.”

“Just a few more minutes,” I cried, burying my head into his muscular shoulder.

“Alright, Miss Truly. You stay right there as long as you need.”

I hardly remember falling asleep. I woke up groggily in his arms as he carried my back towards the house. The moon was fully aglow and all the stars were shining down on us. His jacket kept me warm as I snuggled against his wide chest.

“Oh bless her, the poor thing must be exhausted,” Mummy cooed, pressing her cold hand against my forehead. 

“I told her to come in but she wanted to stay with me. She fell right asleep on my shoulder.”

“Thank you for looking after her. Her room is at the top of the stairs, first on the left. If you wouldn't mind taking her up, I’ll tend to her from there.”

“Of course, Miss Emily.”

“Did the calf…”

“Both passed peacefully.”

“Was it the devil?”

“I don’t think you believe in the devil, Miss Emily.”

“Put my daughter down,” Daddy bellowed loud enough for me to finally stir completely. He was slurring his words again. 

“Jacob…”

“No, Emily, I won’t have this pervert defiling my little girl in a fucking cow shed.”

Seeing me rubbing my eyes, Alton gently lowered me down until my feet hit the ground.

“Sir, I didn’t touch her, I swear, I would never.”

“Then why is she bleeding? Her…her down there.”

I pulled my skirt down and crossed my leg suddenly aware of the wet warmth between my thighs.

“She got her bleed, Jacob,” Mummy snapped, bringing me against her body.

“Since when?”

“Since this morning,” Mummy stroked my hair. I was still asleep, disorientated.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He yelled at her before turning to Alton. “I suppose you knew about this?”

“Mummy, what’s happening?”

“Nothing, Poppet, alright? Nothing is going to happen to you.”

As Daddy approached us, Alton forced himself in front of Mummy.

“Mr Daly, you smell like a pub. I think you should go and sleep this off and think again in the morning.”

“Truly,” Daddy called to me. “Be a good girl and come to Daddy.”

I looked up to Mummy who shook her head and pulled me even closer to her. My hands tightly clung to her nightgown as I buried my face in her chest.

“Truly, how can you serve as an obedient daughter of God if you won’t even obey your own father?” 

“Jacob, please, she’s just a girl. She didn’t mean to stay out, I sent her out to Alton.”

“I kept her out, I should’ve forced her to come back. I'm sorry, Sir, it won’t happen again. Punish me, not the girl.” Alton rested his hand on Daddy’s shoulder.

“Do you have children, lad?”

“No, Sir.”

“A wife?”

“A fiancee back in London. We wed in the autumn.” His admission shattered my illusion. I could feel my very heart crumbling.

“When you have a family you’ll understand.” Daddy grabbed Alton roughly by his shirt and began to drag him towards the open basement door. Alton pushed back, hitting at Daddy and struggling. He shoved Alton down the creaking stairs with a heavy thud before slamming the door shut, locking it from the outside. I had seen Daddy angry, but never like this. His eyes were almost red. His fists were clenched and he was shaking. Mummy forced me to stand behind her.

“Truly, if I tell you to run, you need to run.”

“Mummy, I’m afraid,” I wept.

“I know Poppet, I know.”

“Emily, don’t undermine me. The girl needs discipline.”

“And what will your belt teach her?”

“Hopefully a lot more than it ever taught you.”

“You’ve never put your hands on her before, you will not start now.”

“Her brothers turned out just fine. Better than fine, I’d say compared to that Commie bastard we’ve got down there.” From the pocket of his trousers he pulled out Alton’s little red book, throwing it down on the floor. “Reminds me of you when we were kids, Em. Fighting the good fight, believing in things you didn’t understand. Did you think I hadn’t caught how you looked at him when he first arrived. I know that look, I remember it. Like I remember your fancy red book and your dirty little meetings, you fucking whore.”

“Jacob,” her voice was so quiet as her arms went limp by her side, “not in front of our girl.”

“Are you thinking about fucking him, right now?”

“Whatever you’re going to do Jacob, do it to me, not to her.”

“Woman, you do not tell me what I can or cannot do with my own children.” He came at her, his balled and red fist raised high.

“Truly, run,” she cried out as she fell to the ground.

Daddy stood over her, looking down on her like an animal for slaughter. Mummy never cried but I could hear her choking back tears. I wanted to stay. But before I could even register her second yelp, or his second punch, my feet had carried me out the door and across the grass towards the chickens. My breath hitched in my throat as I fell to my knees in the straw surrounding the chicken coups. I was sobbing uncontrollably, my heart pounded like a drum. He hit her. Daddy never hits her, she would have told me if he did. Alton’s head had smacked the bottom step so hard as he crashed down them, I didn’t see him get up afterwards. Daddy had never been like this before. I laid down next to the frantically squawking chickens, rising from their disturbed slumber and pulled my arms over my head. I didn’t move until the sun came up. I didn’t sleep, I stayed awake wondering when he was going to come for me like he came for Mummy.

Mummy came to me when the yellow sun was just finishing the night. Her thin lips were red and swollen, both of her eyes were almost black with bruising. She squatted down and opened her arms to me without a word. I didn’t waste a moment before I ran into them, her hand nestled on the back of my head. She had been crying. There were fresh rips on the skirt of her dress.

“I’m so sorry, poppet.”

“Is he-”

“Asleep in his bed.”

“And Alton?”

“He’s fine. More worried about you than himself. Are you hurt? Does your belly still hurt from your bleeding?”

I shook my head untruthfully. Each new minute brought a new cramp. 

“Can you do a really really important job for Mummy?”

I nodded, meeting her cold, dead grey eyes. 

“You need to go up to the cow shed. We need milk. Do you remember how to do it? Mummy…” she looked away for a second before forcing herself to look at me. “Mummy doesn’t feel very well today. She needs you to help her.”

I nodded again, suddenly unable to find my voice. She stroked my cheek, her bottom lip trembling. “That’s my good girl. Run along now. Mummy is going to collect some eggs.”

I rose from the cold ground, my legs still covered in the dirt from last night. Her stool and bucket were already up at the cow shed. I wanted to stay in her comforting embrace for longer but I could tell she wanted to be alone. 

It was even colder again today. Like mid-December. I pulled Alton’s jacket tight around me but it did little for my frozen knees and stiff fingers. I was shivering by the time I reached the sheds. The smell was enough to make me finally throw up. I had never smelt anything like it. It was like rotting meat in the Summer. The carcasses of last night were still laid on the ground. The flimsy metal gates that held back the rest of the herd had snapped away. The corpses were torn and feasted upon. Even the baby, now torn clean of one of its heads. I clasped my hand over my mouth to stop any more vomit coming up. There was only one cow still obediently standing inside her pen. I moved quietly around the herd that still pulled at the tattered, bloody bodies to get to her. I slammed down Mummy’s stool and positioned the metal bucket. I wanted to have this task done as quickly as possible before the mauling beasts turned their eyes to me. I hardly even looked at the milk coming out of her as I squeezed her udder until she wailed a strange and gutteral sound of resounding pain. Looking down I saw the pure blood filling the bucket splattered with thick globs of green and yellow infected puss. I dropped the bucket and knocked the stool over as I fell from it. The poor creature continued to call out. I sprinted past the herd and back across the farm to Mummy. When I saw her she was standing just as shocked and disgusted. She had a fresh, still warm egg in her hand. When she crushed it effortlessly between her fingers no white or yolk oozed out, only a thick black sludge. She dropped it on the ground where she had already dropped a dozen others all the same. We looked at each other, neither needing to speak. She wiped her hand on her dress and beckoned me close.

“Mummy, what is this? What is happening?”

“I don’t know, poppet, I don’t know.”

She ushered me inside where Alton was sitting with his head in his hands at our table. He had a large gash across his forehead that had been quickly but neatly cleaned and stitched up. He lowered his hands when we came in and winced as he tried to smile at us.

“Miss Truly, thank goodness you’re alright.”

“Are you?”

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a few little cuts and bruises.”

Mummy slammed the door, locking it before sitting by us. “Something is very wrong with this place.”

“What do we do?” I asked. I doubled as another cramp struck my gut. Almost as soon as Mummy had begun to comfort me a heavy thud pounded against the backdoor. It struck again and again, growing harder each time. All three of us jolted with each new thud. The wood of the door started to splinter. A black  horn, sharp and protruding, split through the door. 

“I didn’t know you kept goats,” Alton pushed himself out of his chair.

“We don’t,” Mummy stuttered, grabbing my hand and holding me behind her.

“Emily, get away from there,” Daddy’s voice echoed down the hallway. He was in just his white underwear, wielding the shotgun he kept by his bed. I could still smell last night’s mistakes on his breath as he stormed past. He didn’t hesitate as the first shell left the door as nothing but splintered wood and chipped paint. He flung it open, unloading the second shell with another deafening bang and a faint strangling sound as the animal croaked. Mummy clamped her hands over my ears. Alton shook violently with each shot. 

“What in God’s name?” Daddy stepped away.

Alton rushed towards him, gasping loudly before hurrying outside. We followed slowly. Laid limp on the doorstep, gently being stroked by Alton, a lamb no more than a few days old, barely the size of a small cat or dog. It was all bloody and mangled but not quite dead. I couldn’t stop looking at it. It was so small. But we had never kept sheep. 

“You monster, you fucking monster.” Alton pushed Daddy up against the kitchen wall. 

“Alton no,” Mummy protested. 

“No, Emily, let him, let’s see what the coward does.” Daddy was smiling. It wasn’t a good smile or a happy smile. It was something else. “I see it in his eyes, the boy’s got the devil in him and he has brought it to our farm. Stray lamb.”

“You are the devil, Jacob Daly,” Alton’s strong voice was frightening. Mummy reached down and gripped my hand, rubbing her thumb softly on my palm.

Daddy laughed before he grabbed Alton and dragged him outside.

“Where are you taking him?” Mummy pleaded.

“To exorcise my farm.”

We followed them outside, Mummy clutching my hand so tightly it hurt as her nails dug into my flesh. My heart was thumping so fast I could barely catch my breath. He threw Alton down onto the muddy ground. He stormed over to the shed, unlocking it loudly. He returned with a heavy red canister and a small box of matches. Alton had scrambled to his feet but stayed in place.

“Alton!” I yelled trying to run over to him. Mummy clamped her hands around my stomach holding me in place.

Alton didn’t move when the first splash of gas spilled onto him. He sobbed briefly, his big green eyes silently begging to my father. The smell forced Mummy’s hand over her mouth as a trembled wail slipped from her throat.

“Truly, pray for Daddy, like a good girl.”

“Daddy…”

“Pray, you stupid whore of a girl.”

“Domine Deus, spero per gratiam tuam remissionem omnium peccatorum, et post hanc vitam æternam felicitatem me esse consecuturum: quia tu promisisti, qui es infinite potens, fidelis, benignus, et misericors. In hac spe vivere et mori statuo. Am-.” I couldn’t finish it, it felt wrong to finish it.

Mummy pulled against her body, shielding my face as Daddy emptied the last of the foul, odourless liquid onto Alton. Daddy struck up one of the matches. 

“Repeat after me, if you want to live, child of Satan.”

“Jacob, stop this is murder,” Mummy’s voice was strained with tears.

“Merciful God, I come before You with a repentant heart. Forgive me for my sins and transgressions. Cleanse me from all unrighteousness and create in me a clean heart.” Daddy sounded just like a preacher.

“My heart is clean.” Alton sounded so brave but I could see him shaking.

“Merciful God, I come before You…”

“God is not merciful. If God were merciful, your sons would still be alive.”

It wasn’t fast. It was slow. Really, really slow. Alton was engulfed in seconds but his screams kept ringing out long after his body had stopped rolling around, clutching at himself. He screamed so loud, so raw like an animal being slaughtered. Mummy vomited onto the grass next to us as she shielded my eyes. It was the smell, I couldn’t describe it if I tried. She was hurling obscenities at Daddy I had never heard her say before, words she had told me were sin to even think. Eventually Alton stopped flopping about and the last of his cries fell silent. I thought about his fiancee back in London and wondered how Daddy would tell her what he had done. Mummy made sure I couldn’t see him, but I felt the heat as he tried to drag himself towards us. He needed our help and we didn’t give it.

The shotgun was even louder this close. Mummy’s hands fell from me as she crumpled to the ground and suddenly the harsh coldness of the morning was whipping through me. I didn’t need to look to know what Daddy had done. I heard her throaty gargles before the silence settled in. The birds had all rushed from their trees during the commotion. I gripped the hem of my dress, clamped my eyes shut and stood unmoving. Tears were welling in my eyes but I would not open them.

“Mummy,” I softly whimpered.

I could hear Daddy approaching me from behind. His hard, rough hands picked me up and cradled me against his naked body.

“You’re a daughter of God, aren’t you, Truly?”

“Daddy, please. I want Mummy.”

“Mummy is sleeping right now, poppet.”

He took me inside and sat me on one of the kitchen chairs, patted my head and went back outside. I couldn’t hold back my whimpering sobs anymore, I rested my head on the table and kept my hands over my ears. All I could hear was my own wails. He returned with his gun in his hand. 

“Daddy is going to show you what to do first and then you’re going to copy, alright? I’ll know if you don’t do it. I’ll know if you decide to be naughty and disobey Daddy.”

He sat opposite me. He placed the gun inside his mouth. I closed my eyes and covered my ears as he pulled the trigger. His brain, his flesh, splattered against the wall, slipping down onto the floor. My ears were ringing and my hearing was fuzzy. I never really heard all that much after that day. Daddy was right, the Devil was here. Maybe he came with Alton. Maybe he came with my bleed. Maybe he had come when I allowed myself to have those brief flashes of lust.

I crept away not opening my eyes. They were dead. All of them. I couldn’t stop sobbing, my legs were trembling. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, who to tell. I fell to the ground before I reached the door, dropping my head as I cried out. I wanted my Mummy to tell me I was safe. I wanted God to pick me up in his hands and tell me this was not his doing. I laid there half the day waiting for something to change, waiting for Mummy to get up off the ground. I didn’t hear the door open only a few feet before me.

“Miss Truly? Miss Truly?” A gentle hand rocked my shoulder. It was the bushy bearded constable from yesterday. “You weren’t at church this morning, people were worried, they asked me to come check on you.”

“Daddy…”

“Is your Daddy alright?” The constable left my side and approached the kitchen as my small, shaking hand pointed in that direction.

“Holy Hell,” he exclaimed. He ran back towards me. “Are you hurt Miss Truly? Where’s your mother?”

“Outside.”

“And the boy?”

“Outside. Daddy…”

“Alright, sweetheart, come on let’s get you out of here.”

He wrapped his arms around me and forced me to stand. Each step ached. Rich blood spilled down my thigh as I struggled to stand up straight. It was easier to breathe once we were outside but my lungs still felt like they were collapsing. My whole body felt like it was collapsing. He placed his own coat down over the clean seat of the car before he helped me lower myself down onto it. He held my hand like I knew Mummy would have. He squatted down until our eyes met.

“Miss Truly, I need you to be a big girl now and tell me what happened?”

It started as a whisper. Like a shadow of a ghost of an old friend in the back of my mind. A voice, it sounded like Mummy and sounded like Daddy. It was familiar yet unattached to any memory I had. It was a voice inside my own mind. I was certain the constable could not hear it. It spoke simply, plainly, instructing me. All the hairs on my body erected as a strange chill rocked my spine, shooting through me.

Tell him the truth.

“Miss Truly?” His hand rested against my cheek, pulling my attention back towards him.

“The Devil is here.”