Pots of Gold

Maggie set down her heavy basket of wet washing and peered at the far corner of her lawn. Another mysterious hole in the ground had appeared since the previous night’s storm. That made three in the past few weeks. The first one had been a sizeable crater in the middle of the neglected vegetable patch. Then, a second hole had been scraped out amid the late spring bulbs below her kitchen window. This latest hole was at the edge of the grass near the rhododendrons.
Sighing heavily, she pulled a wet sheet from her basket and began to peg it on to the line. She wondered who might be responsible for the holes. They didn’t own a dog and she’d seen no evidence of rabbits, so the chief suspects were her sons, six-year-old Callum and eight-year-old Finlay. Though she had no idea why they should have taken to digging holes everywhere, unless they were bored by the small size of the garden after the large lawns of their previous home.
A glance at her watch told her she needed to hurry if she was to get to her job at the nearby library in time. She quickly finished pegging out the washing and carried her basket back inside. They had been so lucky finding this house and a job for herself with hours that fitted in with the boy’s schooldays that she really didn’t want to be late.
She puzzled about the mysterious holes all the way to work. The boys had taken to their enforced house move quite well. It had been tough leaving the comfortable family home when Daniel, their father, had died but they would not have been able to manage financially if they had remained there.
The combination of Daniel’s long illness and Maggie’s inability to work while caring for him and the boys meant that all their savings had been used. The life insurance had covered the mortgage but there had been little left over. Moving to a smaller house, even if it was a bit run-down, had meant she could afford to take a part-time job.
They seemed to have settled well. Callum’s teacher had assured her that he had lots of friends and appeared to be recovering from the loss of his father. Finlay was harder to reach – he had always been a quiet child who kept his feelings to himself. Daniel would have known why they were wrecking the garden, she thought. He had always been so close to the boys, the three of them had often had little secrets and jokes.
“It’s man stuff, Mummy,” they used to chorus when she’d asked to be let in on the joke. Although they had always told her later.
Even when Daniel had been really ill they had shared stories and songs together. He had told them about the wee green leprechauns and mischievous boggarts from the tales of his own childhood. Maybe that was who had dug the holes – boggarts. The thought lightened her heart and she walked into the library smiling.
It was raining when she finished her shift and walked to the school to collect the boys. So much for her washing – it would be wetter than when she’d put it out. The past few weeks since they’d moved had been some of the wettest on record: sticky humid days followed by early evening storms that did little to cool the air.
“Look what I’ve made, Mummy.” Callum danced beside her, waving a still-wet picture in his paint-stained hand.
“That’s lovely.” Maggie took it gingerly by the corner.
“It’s our house with you, me and Finlay. I put Daddy up there, look, behind the sun, where he’s smiling at us.” He beamed at her and she swallowed the lump in her throat.
“That’s really grand. I’ll put it on the wall when we get home.”
Finlay was in a less happy mood when he joined them for the short walk home. While Callum chattered away and swung his bag, cheerfully disregarding the rain, Finlay dragged his feet and appeared deep in thought.
“Who wants to post the letters?” Maggie asked as they neared the postbox. Usually both boys would fight over who got to drop the envelopes through the slot but today Callum had the honour without any dispute from his brother.
Once they were home and Callum had clattered off upstairs to change, Maggie seized the opportunity to quiz her elder son.
“Is everything okay, Fin? You’re very quiet, are you feeling well?” She placed her hand on his forehead. To her relief he didn’t feel hot to the touch.
“I’m fine, Mum.” He dumped his school bag in the corner of the kitchen.
“You would tell me if something was bothering you?” Maggie persisted.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, pass me that pile of post before you go upstairs, would you?” It didn’t look as if there was anything exciting among the mail. Just more familiar brown envelopes which contained various requests for payment.
Finlay picked them up from the worktop and handed them over.
“Mum, are we very poor?” His small face was solemn.
“No, don’t be silly. We aren’t rich and that’s why we had to move here, but we certainly aren’t poor.” She smiled and ruffled his brown spiky hair. “You do ask some daft questions.” She wondered if her worrying about the finances was what had been on his mind lately. If only she had Daniel to confide in, he’d always known how to get Finlay to open up.
“Fin, come quick, there’s another one,” Callum called in a stage whisper from the stairs.
“Another what?” Maggie asked.
“Mum, its man stuff,” Callum replied and Finlay hurried out of the kitchen to join his brother upstairs before Maggie could ask anything else.
With the boys out of the way, she collected her wet sheets from the garden and switched on the dryer. A lengthy phone call from her mother whilst she was preparing tea distracted her. It wasn’t until she was ready to serve the meal that she realised her sons had been very quiet for some time.
“Callum, Finlay, supper’s ready!” she called up the stairs, expecting to hear the eager thump of feet on the landing at the sound of her voice.
To her surprise the house was silent. She was about to call again when the back door gave a creak. She hurried down the hall to catch the boys sneaking in from the garden. In their hands they carried mud-caked boots.
“What have you two been up to?” Maggie guessed she’d solved the mystery of the holes.
“Nothing,” they chorused.
“It’s a very muddy kind of nothing.” Maggie took the boots from them and placed them carefully on some old newspapers near the radiator to dry off.
“We were only digging.” Callum’s small face was flushed with guilt.
Finlay elbowed his brother.
“Well, you’d better wash your hands ready for tea and then you can tell me all about it.” Maggie left them to make their way to the bathroom, squabbling as they went.
Whatever the great secret was that lay behind the recent spate of unauthorised gardening, she was determined to get to the bottom of it before there was no garden left. She waited till the boys were seated at the small circular kitchen table and had a plate of beef stew in front of them before raising the subject again.
“So, who’s going to tell me about the holes in the garden?” she asked as she passed around a plate of bread and butter. Callum wriggled in his seat and studied his plate while Finlay gave his brother a warning look.
“You aren’t in any trouble for digging, but please don’t make any more holes in the lawn and don’t damage the plants.” It wasn’t as if their garden would win a cup at the Chelsea Flower Show. Whatever their reason for the digging, it was clearly important to the boys.
Finlay and Callum exchanged glances.
“Can we carry on digging, then?” Finlay asked.
“If you fill in the holes, leave the grass alone and don’t walk mud all over the house, yes.” Maggie crossed her fingers under the table and hoped she was doing the right thing by giving them permission to do such messy things.
At their old house there had been room for a large swing set and a set of goal posts for them to play football. Here, there was barely enough room for her washing line and a small shed that she planned to turn into a den for them when the weather finally improved. She missed Daniel’s advice and support at times like this, when she was faced with strange ‘boy’ problems.
Her strategy appeared to have worked, for no more holes appeared for a couple of weeks. The weather improved and the sun finally put in a long overdue appearance. Maggie wondered if the digging had lost its charm now that it was no longer forbidden or secret.
The fine weather broke on a Friday as she collected her sons from school.
“Why does it always rain when it’s home-time?” a fellow parent grumbled as she scurried past with her daughter at her side.
“Come on, Fin, we might miss it.” Callum nudged his brother as they hurried home.
“Miss what?” Maggie asked, wondering if there was a new TV show they wanted to watch.
“Nothing,” Finlay replied, but he quickened his steps to match his younger brother.
As they rounded the corner of the street a double rainbow lit up the grey, rain-sodden sky.
“Wow, look at that. A double-header.” Maggie pointed it out to Callum. “Oh, it’s fading.”
Much to her astonishment he started to cry. “We’ve missed it. Now we won’t find the gold.”
Finlay scowled at his brother.
Suddenly, the penny dropped for Maggie. The mysterious holes, the rainy weather. “Have you been looking for the end of the rainbow?”
“Dad said the leprechauns hid their gold at the end of a rainbow and if we had gold you wouldn’t be worried about bills and things.” Callum took her hand, an anxious expression in his blue eyes.
“Tattle tale,” Finlay muttered.
Maggie opened the front door to their small house and chivvied them inside. Once in the hallway and divested of wet coats and shoes she crouched down so she was at an equal level with her sons.
“Right, you two. Number one, we don’t have to worry about money. We aren’t rich but we aren’t poor either, okay?”
Two spiky brown heads nodded acknowledgement.
Maggie slipped an arm around them. “Second, I already have the gold that was at the end of the rainbow that landed on this house. You two are my treasures and that’s the best kind.” She hugged them both close to her, revelling in the warmth of their lean little bodies and the smell of their damp skin.
Outside, the sun broke through the clouds and flooded the hallway with light.
Thank you, Daniel, Maggie thought as Finlay smiled and hugged her back.


(C) Nell Dixon November 08