Helen Turrell is a young woman living in an age where becoming “with child” without the benefit of marriage often meant a sudden out of town “visit” to distant relatives or some other such excuse to explain the absence. For Helen, this means an unexpected trip to France as unplanned as the circumstances requiring it. While there, she secretly gives birth to a son she names Michael. When she returned home to England, it was with the stunning news that her brother George—who had been residing in India—had taken a fall from a horse and died, leaving behind an infant son to raise. Since everyone still remembered the past youthful indiscretions of her brother and his seeming inability to put his life firmly on the path of the straight and narrow, it was no surprise that the responsibility of raising his offspring had fallen to Helen.
Helen hid the true nature of his parentage, but consented to his desire to call her “Mummy” in the privacy of the home as compensation for some teasing and questioning at school. One day he overheard her breaking the promise that nobody else would know of this special arrangement and exploded in rage, telling her he would never call her “Mummy” again. He also promised to hurt her back as long as he lived and even threatened that he would hurt her worse when he died. Helen replies that she will surely herself be long dead by the time that happens.
Just when Michael is about to enter Oxford University, however, war breaks out across Europe and instead of enrolling, he decides on enlisting. His letters indicate that battalion is avoiding most of the real danger and his biggest complain is that nothing ever seems to happen. Then one day post delivers to Helen not a letter, but a telegram. Just a year into his service, Michael is killed when a mortar shell falls from the sky and lands next to him.
When the war finally ends and after Michael’s remains have properly and officially reburied in a vast cemetery in Belgium, Helen decides it is time to visit. While traveling, she meets Mrs. Scarsworth who has made the visit to the cemetery nine times before as proxy for those grieving family members who cannot. She takes photographs as commission and this entire concept which is divorced from any genuine emotional attachment to the dead horrifies Helen. After enduring dinner with the woman, Helen is hardly happen to hear her knocking on the door of her hotel room later that night. Mrs. Scarsworth actually is showing emotion this time, a kind of desperation which is stimulated by the revelation that whole story about the commissions on behalf of other people is untrue. In fact, this is her ninth trip to visit the same grave, but she hasn’t been able to tell anyone the truth because, of course, they would question why this one dead soldier meant so much. And being married, well, that is simply not a truth she can share freely and openly.
The next morning, Mrs. Scarsworth goes her way and Helen goes her way As she is overwhelmed by sheer number of crosses marking the grave sites, she begins to fear finding the right one is going to be a hopeless endeavor. Finally, she reaches a spot where the crosses have been replaced by gravestones which, according to the map, indicates she’s in the right area of the massive cemetery, at least. She spots a man kneeling behind a line of headstones, patting the soft soil around a new plant. Noticing the map in her hand, he asks who’s she looking for and she replies in a rote manner, as she has learned to do through so much experience: “Michael Turrell—my nephew.” The man looks into her eyes with compassionate understanding and indicates for her to follow him, saying “I will show you where son lies.”
Helen looks back at the man who is still tending to some plants before she finally leaves the cemetery behind, “supposing him to be the gardener.”
