His name is Dreadful
~Difficult to mother~
Homily knew from the start that she didn't like Spiller.
As soon as she had seen him (which wasn't right away because of how ridiculously dirty he was), she had already made her judgment.
Seeing another Borrower took her straight back to memories of when the house was full of them - when there were borrowers on every floor, beneath every floor, and behind every wall; to a time when appearances and reputations were the most important element of their community, and everyone knew where they stood.
The Overmantels were snobs, the Harpsichords put on airs, the Rainpipes were hardy, and the Clocks minded their own business; everyone had their niche. It defined you, and you lived it completely.
It was part of what made you a Borrower.
But this… this person if you could call him that, had no title, no family to define him, was covered in filth, barely spoke a word and wouldn't answer your questions, and seemed to always be smirking.
He was single-handedly the most frustrating (and consequently annoying) person Homily had ever encountered.
Well, he was that half the time.
The other half of the time, he was like a guardian angel sent to save their family, always swooping in at the last moment to provide and protect.
The second time they'd ever met, he had saved Arrietty from being eaten by a dog, risking himself in the process.
He'd brought them food and provisions, without which they would never have survived life in the boot.
He'd risked being seen while saving them from Mild-eye.
And he did it all without blinking, never stopping to question whether he should or shouldn't, and never expecting so much as a thank you in return.
At these times, Homily insisted that she had liked Spiller from the start.
But then she would remember how he stole their half-scissor, and how he never washed and would track dirt with him wherever he went, and how he sometimes fed them field-mouse….
And she'd be right back to thinking him a very savage boy who didn't know a single ethic and wasn't really a Borrower in the sense she thought he ought to be.
Her thoughts on him went back and forth like this over the years that she knew him, changing from day to day, or even minute to minute depending on the circumstances.
When he brought them to the picturesquely perfect Little Fordham, she could have kissed him.
When he took her darling Arrietty for a ride on the Bean's dangerous model train, she nearly throttled him.
Whenever he was away, she would worry if he was eating enough, if he was safe, if he was staying away from Beans, and so on.
And by the time he returned, she'd be sweeping the dirt up after him and pestering him to wash his hands before supper, even though he never did.
Despite all her grumbling, Homily really did worry about him. He didn't have the first clue about proper behavior, and it was no fault of his own, poor thing, because he had no mother to look after him.
And she would never admit it to anyone, and was hardly aware herself, that from early on she had endeavored to take on that role of 'mother' to him.
To Homily's consternation though, he was difficult to mother.
It was just as well she had never had sons.
She knew though that her little Arrietty wished she had had siblings, and was therefore very fond of Spiller.
At least… Homily had thought that was why Arrietty was fond of Spiller.
Until Arrietty revealed that she liked him in a manner much deeper than that.
Homily couldn't believe it - wouldn't believe it.
The silly girl actually wanted to marry Spiller.
Now Homily was sure she didn't like him.
She had thought Arrietty spending all that time with him was because she wanted to be like him, not just be with him - and to some extent, that was part of it.
And that just made it all worse, because there was no way on earth Homily wanted her daughter ending up like Spiller: a recluse who lived in the dangerous woods, who never washed and ate field-mice and crickets.
Homily had hoped that Spiller would see just how silly it was for Arrietty to like him, and let the girl know (kindly) that he was not fit to be a husband, and she'd better look somewhere else.
Of course then he had gone and gallantly (well, almost) offered himself up to be seen by and even speak with Miss Menzies, because Arrietty couldn't and she had been inconsolable about it, and Homily felt her stomach drop the minute she heard herself say "He'd do it for you, dear" because she knew it was true, and that it meant he felt the same for Arrietty as she did for him.
It was a lost cause now.
She had no choice but to get over her (occasional) dislike of the young man and somehow accept him into the family.
She was determined to at least try.
There had been a time after they'd moved into the big house next to the church where Homily thought that perhaps Arrietty would change her mind: they had met Peagreen, and he was everything a young borrower girl could want, despite his bad leg.
He and Arrietty definitely bonded over books and intellectual conversations, but… even Homily could see that it wasn't the same kind of relationship she had with Spiller.
They were very good friends, but nothing more
And as nice as Peagreen was, he never seemed more than a neighbor to Homily.
He was never like a son; not like….
Homily had admitted how she felt about the boy to herself, but wasn't quite ready to share it with the world… not quite yet.
She had to keep up appearances, after all.
But she'd always make enough soup to share with Spiller (even, accidently, when he was away on a trip), and she set aside a nook in the house for him to sleep in (he refused less often than he used to), and in an act quite radical for Homily, she hugged him once as he was about to set off on an especially long trip, not even thinking or caring about the dirt he got on her apron.
And one night, settling down to bed, Homily had plucked up the courage to tell Pod that 'Maybe, someday, Spiller might make a good son-in –law. Provided he washed.'
It really wasn't long at all before 'someday' actually arrived, and Homily found herself strangely, surprisingly, alright with it.
Arrietty finally got her wish and married Spiller, right in the Bean's church, with all her cousins and her aunt and uncle and her friend Peagreen there to see and congratulate them, and Homily had tears in her eyes the whole time, and she couldn't answer herself why.
Was it because her daughter was growing up? Because she would be leaving home now? Was it because she would be living out in nature, on a boat or in a boot or a kettle or who knew what else?
There was a little bit of that.
But there were other reasons… like how happy Arrietty looked, and how surprisingly happy Spiller looked, and how right it felt to have him join the family.
'Dreadful' really was a fitting name for him - he was dreadfully awful and at the same time the most dreadfully wonderful boy she knew.
Homily wondered if this was how mothers usually felt about their sons.
And as Homily watched Arrietty climb into Spiller's boat, the two of them setting off for a new life and new adventures, she had to hold back tears, realizing now that she had two children leaving home.
"Now you both be extra careful – Don't go on any dangerous parts of the stream, steer clear of wasps, and leave the frogs alone Arrietty - you never know what kind of diseases they've got, nasty things."
"Oh Mother, we'll be fine! Really!"
Spiller, climbing back onto shore to grab the last bag, stopped to look at Homily and say simply "I'll look after her."
Homily looked back at him with heavy eyes, and in soft voice that she usually didn't use with Spiller, said "I know you will. But I want you to look after yourself as well. I'll be worried sick about the both of you until you're home again."
He smiled, and it was a very warm smile. "I will… Mum."
And with a smirk he shouldered the last bag and hopped aboard the knife-box, punting it out into the current with the knitting needle as Arrietty waved and called goodbye to her parents on the shore.
And as her daughter and son drifted out of sight, and Pod wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders, Homily allowed herself to break down and cry.
Perhaps she still couldn't tell it out loud, but she knew and could admit it to herself that she really did love Spiller.