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The Little
House in the
Valley
white photograph. It was his favourite photograph of his deceased
wife. Wearing her smartest straw hat, she looked so alive and blissful.
Henry was leaning against the mantlepiece gazing at Yvonne
when, for the first time in many years, the old man took the
photograph out of the frame and turned it over to read the faded
script on the other side.
18th August 1963
Yvonne and I have just finished building our house; a charming white cottage.
With our first child due to arrive any day now, I have decided to plant roses in the
front garden to flourish and grow as our new child will.
Henry looked forlornly out of the window and his gaze settled on
two moss covered gravestones. One was labelled
Yvonne
and dated
20th August 1963 and the other had engraved
Thomas
, a name which
Henry and his wife had chosen before the baby had been born.
Stricken with grief after the death of his only family, the widower
resolved to stay in the valley for the remainder of his life to live alone
with the memory of his wife.
Henry was disrupted from his nostalgic thoughts as the Collie,
Atticus, awoke from his slumber and pressed his nose against the
front window, ears pricked up in alarm. The old man peered through
the dusty window pane to see four boys crouching noticeably
amongst the oak trees in the garden.
One of them, who had spiky black hair, pointed at the startled old
man. The others looked at him with shock and began to whisper
hurriedly. Henry edged closer to the window. Suddenly the spiky
haired boy let out a loud and spiteful laugh.
‘Look at his hat,’ he jeered, ‘it’s got
flowers
on it! Mother was right,
the old thing is crazy!’
The group of boys came out frombehind the tree, their confidence
swelling like a balloon. Another one marched up purposefully to the
rose bush against the fence, right in Henry’s line of vision. In a
sudden movement, the boy swung his right leg right at the rose bush.
The old man cried out as if in pain as several roses were destroyed.
Petals rained down to the ground as the rest of the boys joined in.
Henry hobbled hastily over to the door.
‘Please… please stop. Those roses are precious to me!’
The spiky haired boy laughed, ‘hahaha! Look at it’s hat more
closely! It’s so ugly, let’s get it and tear it to pieces!’
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