Ally grew up in an orphanage, where the only family she knew were the other children and the caretakers. Life was never sweet, but she learned to stand her ground and protect the younger ones. Justice burned in her like a flameshe couldnt bear to see the weak bullied. Sometimes she suffered for it, but she never cried. She told herself it was for what was right.
Her name had been Albina once, but in the orphanage, they shortened it to Ally. The day she turned eighteen, they sent her into the world alone. At least she had a tradeshed trained as a cook and had already been working a few months as a kitchen assistant in a café. They gave her a room in a shared house, but it was a grim little box, barely fit for living.
By then, shed already met Vince, three years older, who drove a delivery van for the same café. Before long, they moved in together at his one-bed flat, left to him by his gran.
«Albina, come live with me,» hed said. «Whats the point of that hostel room? The lock barely works, and the place is falling apart.» She agreed without hesitation.
Vince seemed more serious, more grown-up, and she liked that. Once, they talked about children, and he shrugged.
«Cant stand the little ankle-biters. Nothing but noise and trouble.»
«Vince,» she said, startled, «but if its your own childyour own flesh and bloodhow can you say that?»
«Whatever. Drop it. I said I dont like em, end of.»
His words stung, but she pushed the feeling aside. Maybe hed change his mind when the time came.
Ally worked hard at the café. She could even cover for Valerie, the head cook, when she called in sickthough everyone knew Valeries «headaches» were just hangovers.
«One more slip-up, and youre out,» the manager, Max, warned her, though he knew Valerie was good at her job.
«Your cooks brilliant, Max,» regulars would say.
So Valerie clung to her job, weathering the warnings. She knew they only kept her because she made good food. She also noticed how Ally workedquick, skillful, putting heart into every dish. Max had started watching her too.
Once, Ally overheard Max talking to the floor manager.
«If Valerie skips work again, shes done. Allys young, but shes got talent. Shes not spoiled, shes responsible.» The rest faded as they walked away.
*So Max has been keeping an eye on me. Poor Valerieshes kind, but that habit of hers will ruin her.* She decided not to tell anyone, not even Vince.
Time passed. Valerie vanished for a week, and Ally took over. Not a single complaint. When Valerie finally returned, she was a wreckshaking hands, dark circles under her eyes.
Max walked into the kitchen. «Valerie, my office. Now.»
He fired her, then came back to announce, «Ally, from today, youre head cook. Youve got potential. Dont waste it.»
«Thank you,» she said, nerves fluttering. The responsibility was huge, but she was thrilledbetter pay, and she was still so young.
*Ill prove myself. I wont let Max down.*
That evening, Vince brought champagne.
«Lets toast your promotion,» he smirked. «You did it, Ally. Got yourself noticed.»
Theyd been together a long time, but hed never mentioned marriage.
Months rolled by. Max praised her now and thenshe really did have a gift for cooking. Nearly three years with Vince, and while he didnt drink or raise his voice, he never proposed, never even talked about it. She wondered.
*Weve been together so long. Maybe if I get pregnant, hell commit.*
She remembered his words about children. But they hadnt discussed it since, and she told herself it wasnt the right time anywayshe was just finding her feet.
Then she realised she was expecting. The doctor confirmed it, put her on the register. She was overjoyed.
*No family of my own, but this will be my flesh and blood.* She rested a hand on her still-flat stomach, smiling.
When Vince came home, he saw her glow.
«Whats got you so happy?»
«I saw the doctor today. Were going to have a baby.»
His face went blank. He stared at the floor, voice flat.
«I dont want this. Either get rid of it, or get out. I told youI cant stand kids. Now youll face the consequences.»
He never shouted, but his tone chilled her. Hed never hidden his feelings, yet shed hoped hed soften when it was his own child. She watched his jaw tighten before he turned away.
«Youre an orphan. Where will you go, pregnant and alone? Think about it. Get rid of it. Well go back to normal. Youve got nowhere else.»
The next day, after her shift, she packed her things and went back to the hostel. Room 35, the number scrawled in marker over the faded sign. The door creaked openunlocked.
*This is where Ill make a home.*
The room smelled of damp and dust. Peeling plaster, dead flies on the windowsill. A rusty bed with a stained mattress, a wobbly table, a broken wardrobe with its door propped against it.
She set down her baga few clothes, some books, plates, cups. Her hand drifted to her stomach.
*Well manage. Well manage.*
A drunk neighbour shouted through the wall. She flinched.
«Welcome home, Ally,» she whispered.
The shared kitchen was grimcracked stove, ancient fridge, cockroaches by the bin. Back in her room, she bolted the flimsy latch. A lump rose in her throat, but she swallowed it.
*Where will you go?* Vince had sneered.
Well, here. To this room, where shed scrub and rebuild. She wasnt afraid of work. Here, she was free.
She touched her stomach again.
*Well make it. Because I chose this. Because I wont do what my parents didabandon my child. Ive got a job. Ive saved a little. Ill turn this place into a home.*
No time to waste. She found a bucket, an old blouse for rags, and set to work. By evening, the room was cleanfresh air through the open window, the floor scrubbed twice to remove the grime.
«Right,» she sighed. «Now for the shopsblankets, a pillow, towels, soap. A proper lock first. Then crockery…»
Slowly, life settled. Old Pete, the hostel handyman, fitted the new lock with a grin and a joke.
At the café, a new waiter, Tim, started. Soon, everyone knew Ally was expecting. One evening, he walked her home, and she invited him in for politeness. She saw the look in his eyes and panickedshe was pregnant, this couldnt happen.
But Tim kept coming. One day, he took her hands.
«Ally, marry me. Youre alone, Im alone. Well, Ive got my gran back in the village, but thats it. I love you. I think about youand your babyall the time.»
«But, Tim» She gestured to her belly.
«Doesnt matter. Hell be mine too. I love kidswant as many as we can have.»
She thought of Vincehow different they were. Tim was warm, steady, working two jobs without complaint. She said yes.
When the time came, Tim drove her to the hospital and waited, pacing, until she gave birth to a son. He raced home to repaint the room, set up the crib, the pram. When he brought her and the baby back, she barely recognised the placefresh wallpaper, balloons, everything bright.
She held her son close and knew*Well manage. Well manage, because were not alone anymore. Tims laughter fills the room now, and his hands are always fullchanging nappies, warming bottles, fixing the leaky tap. My boy giggles at his silly faces, and I watch them, heart so full it aches. I still work at the café, but now I come home to a family. The walls are no longer peeling, the bed no longer rusty. This is my home, born from scrubbing floors and choosing myself. And every night, when Tim tucks the boy in and kisses his forehead, I whisper to the quiet: I chose love. I chose us.
