**Echoes of Friendship**
Twilight settled over the village of Willowsedge like a quiet hush, the moon’s glow trembling on the river’s surface, mirroring the cold night sky. The Harringtons hadn’t moved here for some idyllic rural fantasy—doctors had insisted the clean air was essential for their youngest, seven-year-old Oliver, whose health had suffered under the smog of the city.
Was it worth building a house for that?
Edward Harrington, a successful businessman who’d constructed shopping centres without hesitation, had the countryside home up in under a year. The grand riverside manor became the talk of the village—who’d have thought such wealthy folk would settle in their quiet corner?
—
The Harringtons’ brick two-storey stood right by the bank, where the woods met the water. A tall fence shielded it from prying eyes. They’d even built a small sandy beach—smooth stones, a wooden jetty with a gazebo for sunset views. It looked like something from a magazine.
Yet the Harringtons were seldom there—only on weekends or holidays. Business in the city kept them busy. Oliver was left in the care of his grandmother, Margaret, and his strict governess, Eleanor Whitcombe. Impeccably mannered and sharply dressed, Eleanor became the subject of village whispers—such a job surely paid well, and many wished they could work for the Harringtons. Jobs in Willowsedge were scarce.
—
On the far end of the village, the Carters scraped by in a crumbling cottage. No one respected them—their father was perpetually drunk, their mother worn down by life, birthing child after child. Six became her burden. She blamed them for her struggles, and the eldest, ten-year-old Lillian, bore the brunt—cooking, cleaning, minding the little ones.
*”Lily! Wash the floors! Make supper!”*
The girl longed to run out to her friends, but fate had dealt her this hand. No one guessed something extraordinary lay ahead for her.
—
*”No, Oliver!”* Eleanor rapped her ruler against the chalkboard.
She wasn’t just a governess but a tutor. The Harringtons had hired her to teach Oliver at home—no village school until his health improved. Later, he’d attend an elite academy for wealthy families.
*”Miss Whitcombe, please—just once!”* Oliver whined, sniffling.
She pretended not to hear and kept writing. Yesterday had been a slip: she’d taken him to the shop, and while she’d been selecting groceries, he’d bolted toward children splashing in a mud puddle. Calmly, she’d paid, loaded the car, then pursued him—but he’d vanished.
*”Oliver! Oliver Harrington, answer me!”* She’d marched down the filthy lane in her leather heels.
A scruffy boy had pointed the way.
They found Oliver on the Carters’ broken porch, stroking a mangy mutt.
*”Oliver, it’s dangerous! That dog could bite!”* Eleanor seized his wrist.
*”She’s gentle!”* the mud-streaked boy insisted. *”That’s my Betsy!”*
Oliver beamed. *”This is Jamie! He lives here!”*
Eleanor pursed her lips and dragged Oliver away.
*”Why’re yanking him? He ain’t a baby!”* Jamie called after them.
*”None of your concern,”* she muttered. *”Tidy this mess first!”*
—
The next morning, Oliver announced: *”I want to play with the other children!”*
Eleanor sighed. *”Your parents forbid leaving the grounds.”*
*”Why? What did I do wrong?”* He stomped. *”I won’t eat! I’d rather starve than be locked up!”*
She understood—Oliver needed companionship. To cage him would break something inside.
*”Mr. Harrington,”* she phoned his father. *”Oliver needs friends. It’s vital.”*
Edward, distracted, cut in: *”Find decent village children. Let them come here. We have swings, toys—better than the streets.”*
—
But Oliver only wanted Jamie—and his dog.
*”Father will buy you a pedigree,”* Eleanor said.
*”No, I like Betsy!”*
Suppressing irritation, she drove to the Carters’ shack. The weary mother agreed—for pay.
*”Take him, he’s idle anyway.”*
Eleanor, nose wrinkled, loaded Jamie and Betsy into her car.
—
Jamie gawked at the Harrington estate. *”Look at all your toys! You’ve got a scooter?!”*
While Eleanor scrubbed the dog, the boys chattered in the playroom. Jamie was bathed and dressed in Oliver’s spare clothes.
*”I’ve got a proper friend now!”* Oliver beamed.
*”Wish I had a scooter,”* Jamie mumbled.
*”You don’t? Here, take mine!”*
*”Won’t you be punished?”*
When Jamie left with the scooter, neither Eleanor nor Margaret objected. If Oliver wished it, there was no arguing.
—
But Jamie wasn’t just a friend—he taught Oliver to climb the fence. That’s how Oliver first escaped. Jamie waited by the river—not alone. A girl sat on the scooter’s back.
*”Who’s that?”*
*”Me sister, Emily,”* Jamie said.
Long-haired and wide-eyed, Emily had the tired look of someone much older.
—
*”I want a sister!”* Oliver announced at dinner.
Eleanor and Margaret exchanged glances. Jamie was filling his head with ideas.
*”Oliver, sisters don’t just appear,”* Eleanor said.
*”Jamie’s got one—why can’t I?”*
*”That boy’s a bad influence!”* Margaret snapped.
After a brief call to Edward, Eleanor returned to the Carters. The mother refused at first—Emily managed the household.
*”We’ll pay.”*
Money changed hands.
—
Oliver adored Jamie, but Emily—fourteen to his twelve—captured his heart. By sixteen, she was more maid than guest, silently cleaning while Oliver bristled.
*”You’re not staff!”* He snatched dishes from her.
*”They’ll throw me out if they think you fancy me,”* she whispered. *”I’ve nowhere else.”*
—
*”That girl’s leading him on,”* Margaret complained to Edward’s wife, Beatrice.
Beatrice shrugged. *”Let him have his fun. At least she’s clean.”*
Edward agreed. *”It’s nature. If anything happens, so be it.”*
**Lesson learned**: Money can buy obedience—but never loyalty, never love. Some bonds refuse to be fenced in.
