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Life is precious in whatever forms it takes.
      The hackneyed statement, a cliché, had always been accepted without a moment’s thought; but now, as the gate into the pasture clicked shut, with it’s cold metallic sound, Edward gasped.
      The dogs ran off, glad to be free of restraining leads.
      A lustrous vision, an enchanting pastoral landscape of golden yellow flowers, had dimmed, the blooms dwarfed by the silver green stalks of meadow grasses. A whisper of breeze brought a swell of colour that ebbed and flowed, settled again to meet the eye before it was transformed once more.
      ‘I can do that too.’
      Edward knelt down and swept the grass with one hand to reveal a mass of buttercup blooms on slender stems. Fortunately, for walkers like him, the farmer had kept his sheep out of the field and the decision was amply rewarded by the vista of a floral multitude.
      The seasons turn, life continues in all its forms; the summer sun gives way to winter’s colder slanting light only for the glaring beams of warmth to return once more. The rhythms and patterns of life are ordained by another that rendered useless, and pathetic, man’s efforts to take control of his world.
      Edward sighed and knelt for a moment longer to study the blooms closely before the dogs disturbed him. He had been out of their sight and they now leapt up to show relief at their reunion. It had seemed like a game of hide-and-seek but he had been distracted.
      ‘Okay girls…walk on,’ he said encouragingly.
      Holly, the older of the two bitches, padded along behind him glancing up occasionally to meet his look upon her. It always seemed that a question was being asked of him, ‘how much further?’ Tessa soon left and was lost to his view, her presence only to be noted as she leapt high to catch a glimpse of where she was going and to keep an eye on him. Tessa snuffled about, rushing to-and-fro, her gun-dog instincts seeking out possible prey to put up. He soon heard the rustle of wings and a startled cry; a pheasant had been disturbed and now flew off, pursued, without any hope of capture, by the young bitch.
      ‘Tessa! Come!’
      She responded to his call and soon fell into line, panting, and her eyes bright with excitement. Reassured that the same well-trodden route for the walk would be followed Tessa left his side once more. It had become a habit of hers to wander, to seek him out or to abide by his calls for a moment and then to leave. She covered twice the distance that he and Holly walked and this practised routine suited her perfectly. Reserves of energy would be expended and he would feel that his duty to them had been done.
      With his ‘girls’ exercised he could return once more to his occupation.
      It was a thankless and remorseless task undertaken in a lonely silence; he was looking for work, redundant and of no immediate use to many businesses and agencies he had written to and consulted. Thankfully, there were no immediate money worries to exert their own debilitating pressures upon him or to induce the acceptance of whatever employment he might, by some miracle of endeavour, find or be offered. He was over sixty and his sights were being set lower, inexorably; however, there was a compensating benefit.
      ‘Thank God for that,’ he spoke out loud.
      Yes, the day for a return to work, and the loss of an opportunity to follow the progress of the seasons on his daily walk, still seemed some way off. The lives of the dogs had also changed; he tended to them now. Laura, a dear wife, still had her job, even if it was part-time, and so the routines of living that had governed the household for so many years had been adjusted to suit the moment. The house was theirs and they had always prepared for altered circumstances or changes in their well being. Belts would be tightened, so the saying went, but they would be happy and continue to give thanks for all that they had. Yes, however their lives were ordained, drawing every breath remained precious.
      They would get by even if life had taken a swing at them; they weren’t unique in that experience. The same could be said of so many others.

‘Hi! You’re home early.’ Edward spoke out in genuine surprise. To make the point he looked at his watch.
      ‘I’ve earned it…some flexi time. I did tell you, Ed.’
      Laura smiled in response to a kiss of greeting.
      ‘Okay, I forgot. The mind’s in neutral…most of the time it seems.’
      ‘No,’ she said considerately. ‘You’re thinking of other things now.’
      ‘Yeah…that’s true.’ He turned to see that the dogs were in their boxes where he’d told them to go. ‘We’ve had a good long walk. You’ll have to come along too, at the weekend. The fields are just wonderful, lots of yellow flowers and long grasses…the sky’s been a porcelain blue with a few drifts of cloud…wonderful.’
      He smiled on telling her of the pleasure he had taken from the walk.
      ‘Yes, I have noticed, darling…’ was her teasing reply.
      ‘Okay,’ he smiled again. ‘I’m seeing it all so much clearer now…now that I’m not rushing about doing another’s bidding.’
      ‘Speaking of which?’ Laura held out an envelope. ‘It’s the letter we’ve both been waiting for.’
      ‘From the Foundation?’ He took the opened manila envelope and pulled at its contents.
      ‘Yes, we’ve been accepted. The CRB checks went through okay…’
      ‘So, we become foster parents for a month?’
      ‘Yes, just as you wanted.’ Laura touched his arm before he gave her a hug. Ed was a demonstrative kind of guy, her only true man and husband for thirty-three happy, often tumultuous, years. ‘Glad?’
      ‘Yes…especially for you. I wanted us to be acceptable hosts to a girl.’
      ‘You suggested it.’ She nodded to make the point and met Ed’s devoted stare upon her. ‘I’ll be able to do girlie things…go shopping for her…and with her!’
      Laura laughed at the easy confession she had voiced.
      ‘I know, two boys in the house is quite enough, even if we rarely see our son…’
      ‘Alex will be okay, once we’ve explained why we’re helping out…and that he’s still the most important one to both of us.’
      Edward let the comment pass. They would have to deal with some rivalry for affection or be even handed about it after a stranger had been admitted into their midst.
      ‘Want some tea, while we read this lot through?’ he now asked her.
      ‘Yes, please. I’m just going to get changed and go to the loo.’
      ‘Been busy? Too busy to care for yourself again?’
      ‘Yes…something like that.’ Laura was already out of his sight. ‘Won’t be long! There’s still some fruitcake in the tin!’
      ‘No there isn’t!’ he called out unsure if she would hear him. ‘I finished it off at coffee time…one of the many so far today.’
      He said the last on a reflective whisper, gladdened that the house would soon have a youngster to fill it with noise and activity once more. The days of being a Dad to a young one had passed all too quickly; fortunately, someone had ordained that he and Laura would have a second chance at parenthood long before the idea of helping the Foundation had taken hold in them.

The kettle began to bubble and gurgle as he prepared the teacups, lost deep in thought.
      I mixed food for you, Sebastian my son, my first born. I did it like this for you, once upon a time, along with so many other things. I remember so much, like that time, late one night, when you’d gone. There you were, I saw you standing by the bedroom door. You waved your tiny hand as if to draw my attention to you but I was awake in the darkened room. Your mother slept beside me; so it was you and I together in one special moment. I saw you as a softly lit outline that remained with me for only an instant, long enough for you to tell me, your grieving father, that all was now well with you. You calmed me with your wonderful gaze, the look of large eyes that always captivated your mother and I when you were with us. ‘All is well’ you seemed to say and to convince me. The words quelled the pain that in the days following your loss, and every day since, continued to burn within me. A part of our lives went with you, forever.
      ‘We’ve got Alex…’ he whispered out on a thankful sigh. The kettle had boiled; the water was poured onto the tea bags.
      ‘Not too full!’ Laura cried out.
      Edward looked up, startled to see her. ‘No…of course not. Sorry.’
      He shuffled away towards the fridge to get the milk, just for him.
      ‘You were somewhere else,’ Laura said. ‘Are you okay?’
      ‘Sure.’ He nodded anyway.
      ‘Who were you with?’ Her look upon him and the answering stare told its own story.
      ‘With Seb…he was at my shoulder again, only for a moment.’
      Laura pressed her lips tight shut and stifled a moan of recollection of all that they had endured together with their first born child, an innocent boy, fatally flawed.
      ‘Is he, is Sebastian the reason for getting in touch…with the Foundation?’
      ‘Yes….or, the most important one.’ Edward picked up the envelope the postie had brought at lunchtime. ‘Let’s read this through, shall we?’ Without elaborating upon his answer he sat down at the kitchen table and spread out the folded papers before them.
      ‘Sure?’ Laura hugged his shoulders before nuzzling a kiss to his cheek.
      ‘Yes, I’m sure. The wait will soon be over. The girl who’s coming to stay…she has to live with something that’s not her fault, or of her parents. We’ve got the opportunity to make a small difference to her life’s chances.’
      Laura let the words he’d spoken fall away.
      ‘We didn’t know,’ she whispered, ‘how it was with Seb.’
      ‘Yes, and unlike the kids the Foundation helps…they were born to parents that knew the risks of bringing them into a tainted world.’
      ‘They believed!’ Laura bit her lip to stifle a shout of rebuttal. ‘They continued to believe it would be all right for their child. We did too…in trying for Alex and being told that he was healthy. We took a chance…’
      ‘With another’s life.’
      She had heard it all before, not often fortunately, to know of Edward’s views on the sanctity of life and the profligate ways some followed in its creation and termination. She also knew of the confusion that often prevailed in her husband, between the making of a rational decision and one ruled entirely by emotion. Her feelings had held sway and had been vindicated. They were overjoyed to be a family again.
      ‘I prayed it would be a healthy child…that our Alex would be spared.’
      ‘They were answered…your prayers. I want to do something for the parents of the girl we give a home to for a while. I want us to be an answer to their prayers or hopes, that their child can be with us to eat, live and breathe in the air of a different place so that she has the chance to gain a year or two longer with them.’
      Laura watched attentively as she listened to him. What he said needed little rehearsal for it told of her reasons for deciding to help.
      ‘It’s a small gift, Ed…our time’s for her.’
      ‘Yes, and worth every penny of what we may have to spend on her.’

He had made his mind up about the plan very quickly; they would devote time and some money, what the family could spare, to bring some joy and comfort to an eight-year-old from Belarus. They were ignorant of the girl’s appearance save that she had long fair hair and that she was slender, stalk-thin, the Foundation representatives told them.
      Katsyiarina, they were told, was a picky eater but that, they soon realised and gave little further thought to, was on account of eating food the origins of which left room for doubt. Contamination, irradiated ground, was the environment that the girl had been brought to life in, conceived by parents who themselves had a birthright stolen by governing elders and a corporation that they had relied upon and who failed them. Their lives, and its continuation in circumstances that they would have to embrace, remained precious. They would fall in love, marry and have their family. Normality would be found at a price that they had already paid for, unasked. Debating the morality of creating new life was not a luxury for them to indulge.
      Edward had gone over the whole sorry tale; the residents most affected by the initial fall-out determined to conquer what had befallen them. That had changed; resolve had become resignation to meet their fate as nothing could be done to dramatically change their lives. What little money was dispensed was even called ‘funeral money’.
      Yes, he had thought it all over and visited the web sites, to look at the photos posted upon them to see the consequences of all that the nuclear-power station disaster had visited upon the residents nearby and beyond.
      He had done so even when Laura had yelled out her anger and disquiet at his concerns. Katsyia’s parents were human, only too certain in the belief that they would survive whatever nature, affected by the reactor man’s slip of hand or forgetfulness might bestow upon them.
      Man and his knowledge, his way of ameliorating the consequences, would ensure that the lives of each succeeding generation would improve. Their lives would be limited, bounded by areas closed to public access and consigned to the restorative work of nature, the decay of materials harmful to health. Trees, plants, flowers and shrubs would come into bud, swell into leaf and burst into bloom. Bees and insects would hover and flit, buzz and drool drunkenly on nectar but few humans would bear witness to them in the affected areas. Life giving and sustaining milk would be tainted; the grasses for fattening cattle’s flesh drew life from an altered source.
      The land had lain in the path of a noxious dust cloud that drifted over them, borne on a wind that came from a place called Chernobyl, a place built to serve man but whose legacy was to turn men, women and children into dependants of quite another kind. They were the inheritors of the nuclear fallout from reactor Number Four and, it was not often said, they bestowed a legacy as a consequence of a vital human choice – the supreme and enduring beauty of making and then nurturing a new life.
      ‘Have you read it all, Ed?’
      ‘Yes…sorry, I couldn’t stop or keep from thinking about it all. How they live there, what the choices were for them.’
      ‘Who? Whose choices do you mean?
      ‘Katsyia’s parents.’ He spoke out quickly then lapsed into silence as other thoughts came to mind.
      I’ve rehearsed the argument many times, confronted the contradictions in all that I think about the choices the population there had to make. I went through them myself, when we tried for Alex. Laura and I knew the risks, to him, of errant genes and cells becoming an embryo, then a baby, with a potentially fatal or life threatening illness. We took a chance. Having a child again was important to us, another life to share with ours. So it was, and will be, for the people of Belarus, a country that he and Laura knew so little of. But, they knew of the torment a child’s parents endured. They had known that only too well with a cherished son, a boy whose life span had been but two-and-a-half years.
      ‘We were lucky; our Alex was perfectly made.’ Laura’s words could just be heard.
      ‘We don’t know her, but Katsyia’s parents will be relieved that their daughter is too…as far as it’s known…at the moment.’
      Kids that were maimed or disabled, by a genetic defect caused by the environment their parents lived in, would not be allowed to travel. The papers he had read spelt out the grim realities for some children and their loved ones. Without another glance Edward gathered up the sheet of paper before he filed them away in a special folder.
      ‘All we need to do now is wait for her,’ Laura confided. ‘I’m ready.’
      ‘Me too…I’ve not been so sure about anything like this since Alex.’
      ‘Alex?’ She looked at him, puzzled.
      ‘Yes…when you were in for the tests, to see if he was healthy or not? I was alone, driving along on my way back from the hospital. I saw a vixen and her cubs sitting by the side of the road, waiting…as if they were waiting for me to go by before it was safe for them all to cross. I knew it then; somehow…I took it as a sign. Our boy would be healthy, we’d have him in our lives, a brother for our lost one, our Sebastian.’
      ‘I…I’ve never heard you tell it like that, darling.’
      ‘No, I held on to the sign just for myself but I told you Alex would be okay, didn’t I?’
      Laura nodded.
      Her husband’s quirky little ways and unguarded confession of his deepest feelings often made her laugh in surprise but his prescience had been proved correct; she had hugged Edward out of relief and joy when the gynaecologist had brought them the happy news.
      ‘I know it again now, Laura…what we’ll find with Katsyia is going to be special.’ He held his hands out to her across the table and Laura felt the strength in the clasp upon her. ‘I’ll have some work! I’ll soon have a very special and unpaid job.’
      He’d look upon it as employment of a very different kind, its value quite beyond measure.

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