A Dartmoor Childhood

Posted on by Simon J. Wood
dartmoor-cottage
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Sweetness of mother’s milk. He recalled the vague memory from infancy. Those times were hard; father, a traveller and adulterer, abroad.
His family lived in a small cottage with peeling wallpaper and cracked windows, down a dirt track on Dartmoor. There were four of them – himself, sister, brother and mother. They would often sit, watching raindrops running down the lichen-tinged panes, longing for somewhere bigger and finer.
Work was scarce in those parts. In harder times, he and brother would eke out a living, catching rabbits and sometimes rats. Mother and sister would stay at home doing washing, singing in their own sweet fashion.
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One February day, a wealthy lady moved into the old manor nearby. He would see her driving a motor car across the frosty moor, dressed in finery.
Soon she came visiting and, seeing the state of the cottage, exclaimed, “You poor dears, come with me, I will give you work and wholesome food!”
She gathered their meagre belongings and the family went willingly.
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Now, sitting in the sunny manor garden six months later, he heard the luncheon bell ring. Entering by a small door he went to his bowl. He approved – minced chicken in jelly. Miaow!
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Featured in the book, To Cut a Short Story Short: 111 Little Stories

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