Ethel despises everyone, especially her own mother. She is convinced that once she grows up and leaves this place, she will inevitably find her mother.
She isnt about to throw herself on her mothers neck and shout, Hello, Mum! Instead, she plans to watch from a distance, then exact revenge. All the years she spends in the orphanage cement her belief that while she weeps, her mother lives comfortably elsewhere.
Ethel has never known any other home. As far back as she can remember, the orphanage is all she has. She is shuffled between wards several times because she constantly fights, and she does not care whether the other child is a boy or a girl.
The staff punish her, lock her in solitary, deprive her of sweets, yet she still loathes the carers, the other children, and the whole world.
When she turns fourteen, she finally stops fightingnot because she suddenly cares for anyone, but because everyone already fears her too much.
Boredom settles in. She wanders to a remote corner of the orphanage grounds and simply sits, dreaming of the day she will track down her mother and make her pay.
One afternoon, a strange melody drifts through the air. Ethel pauses, listening. It isnt anything she recognises.
She loves music and always stops whatever shes doing when something beautiful reaches her ears, but this tune is different: it is beautiful, a little sad, almost mournful, and she cannot place its source.
She rises, approaches a thicket of hawthorn, and gently parts the branches. Suddenly, a man in a greasy overcoat appearshe is the new groundskeeper, just hired yesterday.
What are you doing on my patch? he asks, his voice rough.
Ethel stumbles into the bushes, spilling leaves everywhere. The man stops his work and turns toward her. She brushes herself off, angry, and turns to leave, but he calls after her.
Would you like me to teach you?
She blinks, surprised. Me? I could actually play?
She takes a hesitant step forward. The groundskeeper looks about fiftyseven, thinskinned, and oddly still working the grounds at that age.
Ethel begins visiting him daily. At first he merely shows her how to hold a tin whistle, a simple instrument he carves himselfplain but graceful.
When the first true notes of a melody slip from her, she cant help hugging the old man. Thats when they finally speak.
My name is John Peterson, he says, and I live in the modest cottage on the orphanages edge.
Why? Dont you have family? Ethel asks.
I once had everythinghome, a wife, a daughter. Ten years ago my wife, Katherine, died. I thought I couldnt survive without my son Then I married again, but my new wife was greedy. My son Sasha later dies in a car crash, and the flat I own transfers to his name. Its a threebedroom flat in the city centre now, but my daughterinlaw packed my things and sent them away.
Why didnt you fight back? Ethel presses.
Why, dear? Theres no one left for me here. All the people I loved are gone. I just have to bide my time until my turn comes. I need nothing more.
Ethel suddenly feels she hates Johns daughterinlaw even more than she hates her own mother. Thoughts of vengeance flickerfirst against the daughterinlaw, then against her mother.
When John learns how deep the girls hatred runs, he is horrified. How does she manage such rage? he wonders.
They talk often. John notices Ethel softening; she stops pulling hair from boys heads and becomes gentler. Her urge to prove herself with fists fades.
One day he asks, Ethel, youll leave here in a year. Have you decided what youll become?
She looks bewildered. No I havent even thought about it. Ive only been planning how to punish my mother.
He replies, Suppose you do find her. Youll need money, youll need a planwhatever. But first you must locate her.
Ethel falls silent, walks away, and does not return for a week. When she finally comes back, she says, I want to build.
They spend a year preparing her for admission to a construction college. Ethel knows a university feels too long for her, maybe later.
The day she departs for another town to study and live on her own, she criesher first genuine tears in years.
John, Ill definitely visit you again, she promises. Ill finish my training, stand on my own feet, and then come back.
He smiles, Deal. I wont disappear, and you can finish your studies. When youre ready, you can ride the bus back to see an old man like me.
Old man? Youre not that old, she jokes.
He hands her a tin whistle as a parting gift.
—
Fifteen years later, Ethel marries late, never quite finds a partner who truly understands her. At thirty she has a daughter, Kat, and the marriage ends almost immediately. Her whole joy now lives in little Kat.
Now she can afford almost anything. When she finally earns as much as she wants, she places a missingperson notice for her mother.
The search resolves faster than she expected. Her mother, a poor, single woman who hoped to give birth for herself, learns two months before delivery that she is seriously ill. Doctors diagnose terminal cancer, give her only a year, and she chooses to give up her newborn in the delivery suitea decision no doctor condemns.
Ethel later discovers her mothers grave, marked by a towering angel statue. She often thinks of John Peterson, but when she returns to the town years later, he has vanished. The orphanages director has changed, and most of the old staff are gone.
Whenever she finds a spare moment, Ethel and Kat stroll through the park. Kat, a bright sixyearold, constantly begs her mother to splurge on sweets for the children, bread for the ducks, or enough icecream for a scorching afternoon.
Mom, could you buy some sausages, a loaf, and a drink? Kat asks.
Ethel stares at her, confused. Who are you asking about now?
Maybe you shouldnt know, Kat replies, giggling, its better not to worry.
Kat, were not going anywhere, Ethel says.
Mom, theres an old man with no home, Kat insists.
Who? Ethel asks, a knot forming in her stomach.
Kat smiles, as if to say, I told you.
Its just an old man, nobody else sees him, she explains. Hes shy, doesnt ask for anything, but he knows a hundred tales and poems. Do you mind the sausages?
Ethel, now a senior project manager at a large construction firm, cant find the right words. She silently purchases everything Kat wants and they head to the park.
Kat settles on a bench. Mom, look over there by the pond. Thats the old man.
Ethel truly sees a poorly dressed elderly man sitting with a few children. She feels a little relief. At least the child is in sight.
That evening, Ethel lies on the couch with a book. Kat is in her room. Suddenly Ethel hears that same familiar melody. Silence follows, then the tune returnsexactly the one she first heard years ago. She rushes to Kats room, eyes wide.
Mom, did I wake you? Kat asks.
What was that? Ethel whispers.
Its the old man teaching us to play the whistle. I cant get the opening transition right, Kat sighs, holding a tin whistle.
Ethel looks at her, tears welling. Let me show you. It took me a while too.
She plays the whole melody, then breaks down, sobbing. Memories crash over her, unstoppable. Kat, frightened, asks, Mom, why are you so sad? Did the music make you upset? Should I stop playing?
Ethel shakes her head, wipes her cheeks, and returns with the same, now slightly tarnished, whistle.
Kat, do you know where that old man lives? she asks.
By the pond, behind the bushes, Kat answers. He keeps his boxes there.
They walk straight to him. Kat shouts, Grandpa! and he emerges from the shrubbery.
Whats happened, little one? Why arent you home? he asks, startled.
John Peterson, good morning, Kat says.
He flinches, then looks at Ethel, his eyes widening. Ethel? It cant be.
She embraces him tightly. It can be. Lets stop feeding the mosquitoes and go home.
Where? he asks.
Home, John. If it werent for you, Id have nothing. My home is always yours.
All the way back, John wipes away tears that had gathered like a stubborn fog. They had been weighing him down for years. If Ethel hadnt held his arm, he might have fallen long ago.
Now, for the first time since his youth, he feels certain he will not die alone in the dark.