by Sandra Davies
Having met when both were out of context, she’d embellished his pewter actuality with her golden dreams, and was too young to know how to hide her disappointment at his hard-working, every day normality.
Outnumbered by in-laws and cowed by expectation she compromised a co-existence, by which time they’d four sons (three of little consolation to her, and sadly damaged George) and three daughters who, sharp-eyed, watched and learnt and resolved to do better.
After more than thirty years together he died, judging her sufficiently competent to act as executor of his estate but undeserving of (or not welcoming) the description ‘best-beloved.’
Small, brown, grave-faced and brittle with martyred self-protection she remained in the parish for another ten years, unwillingly missing him more than she had anticipated.
Nevertheless, her will made a point of overturning his intentions, providing carefully calculated sums of money for her sons, and a pleasurable allocation of beds, bolsters, linen and pewter between Martha, Margaret and the unwed Francis, who was further rewarded with one cow and a Bullock.
She was buried as ‘relict of Robert Poole’ in February 1659.
Sandra Davies is a printmaker born in Essex and living in Teesside. She has just completed 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo but has not yet finished the novel…
*The Pygmy Giant is celebrating National Short Story Week – more tomorrow!*