How can you sink so low? Little one, arent you ashamed? Your arms and legs are sound, why arent you working? theyd say to the woman with a child.
Margaret Clarke shuffled past the towering aisles of a huge supermarket in Manchester, eyeing the bright packets that lined the shelves. She came here every day as if it were a job. She didnt have a family to feedshe had none. So each evening the lonely old woman fled her solitude and entered the sunlit trading floor.
When the weather was mild she managed, sitting on a bench with her neighbours for a chat. Winter, however, left no choice, and Margaret grew fond of her trips to the new hypermarket.
The place bustled with shoppers, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, and soft music played in the background. The colourful packaging, like childrens toys, caught the eye and coaxed a smile.
She lifted a pot of strawberry yoghurt, squinting at the label, then put it back. That sort of cultured dairy was beyond her means, but a quick look didnt hurt.
Scanning the abundance, memories of the past rose up. She recalled long queues at the county shop, where shopmaids, like fierce tigresses, fought over scarce goods. She thought of the thick grey paper bags in which purchases were once wrapped.
A smile crept across her face as she thought of raising her daughter. To make her happy, Margaret would stand in any line. The thought of Mabel made her heart thump faster. She paused at a low freezer filled with frozen fish and rested a hand on it for support.
The image of Mabels laughing face appeared: a tumble of copper curls, large grey eyes, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and cheerful dimples on her cheeks.
She thought, with a hint of melancholy, how beautiful she had been.
Under the watchful eye of a shop assistant she moved toward the bread aisle.
Mabel had been Margarets only joy. Shed grown into a clever girl. When she realised a job wouldnt bring her happiness, she turned to surrogacy, just as Margaret had warned her it was a path without reward.
At twenty, who listens to mothers? If a living father had been there, things might have turned out differently. Yet some scoundrels dared to drag an inexperienced girl into that world.
Ireneshe laughed, patting her round bellyshook her head sorrowfully. How could she hand over a child shed carried for nine months?
She brushed it off: Its not a child, its good money.
The birth was hard, and they couldnt save the little one. After three days the infant died.
The girl was handed back to her parents straight away. Of course Margaret received not a penny; the contract was with Mabel, not her.
Margaret buried her daughter and was left alone. With no relatives, she sank into a void and never tried to climb out. It was easier that way.
Now she walked to the bakery section, intent on buying something. She needed to prove she wasnt just wandering aimlessly. She felt the few pence in her pocket and headed for the till. Todays entertainment was enough; she could go home. She counted the required amount, handed it to the cashier, and kept the rest clenched in her fist.
She remembered spotting a young beggar on the second day after the supermarket opened, almost a month ago. Back then the girl had taken her first tour of the shop, looking keenly at everything. What caught the old womans eye? Perhaps the girls youthful glow or the tragic stillness of her pose, or how she cradled a baby tightly.
How can you sink so low? Margaret thought as she approached the familiar silhouette. She set a small jar of coins on the counter and addressed the girl: Little one, arent you ashamed? Your limbs are fine, why arent you earning? You still can work.
The old woman winced as a few passersby hurried past, unable to stop because an elderly lady blocked the way.
Thanks for the penny, but please go on your way. I need to collect more, otherwise Ill be in trouble.
Margaret shook her head sadly and hurried away, not wanting to be a nuisance. She decided to help, and she did it deftly. No one caredno police, no social services. Everyone had grown so accustomed to beggars that they ignored them completely.
All the way home, Margaret could not shake the image of the woman with the child. Her grey eyes and youthful voice felt oddly familiar, as if shed heard them before, but where? She strained to recall.
She closed the front door, slipped off her low warm slippers, turned on the light, and carried the loaf of bread to the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later she was sipping hot sweet tea from her favourite mug, nibbling a slice of crusty bread with a thin slice of ham.
How hungry she must be, on a night like this, the old woman mused. What a cruel life.
She glanced out the window, trying to spot the young woman, and froze. Two roughlooking men were shoving the girl into a car.
Panic rose in Margaret. She lunged for the phone to call the police but stopped, fearing she might make things worse.
She peered out and saw the forecourt of the supermarket empty. Deciding to wait until morning, she retreated back inside. She wouldnt have been able to read the cars number plate from that distance anyway.
That night she lay awake, thinking of the girl and her child. At dawn a strange dream came. She saw Mabel standing at the supermarket door, a child in her arms, the little one bluecheeked from the cold. Margaret held the child close, trying to warm her, but Mabel said, Im not cold, Mum.
Margaret pulled the child from Mabels grip, brushed aside a corner of a warm blanket that covered the girls face, and noticed a pendant on a chain.
A familiar pendant, she whispered.
She startled awake, eyes landing on the wall clock opposite the bed.
Why did I sleep so long? she thought.
It was already nine oclock. She rose quickly and went to the window.
The girl with the child were still where shed seen them. To the right of the supermarket entrance everything was quiet.
Thank heavens, she sighed, crossing herself.
Outside it was New Years Eve, a biting frost hanging in the air. The little girl had been out for over an hour; she could freeze by nightfall.
Margaret fetched bread, made quick ham sandwiches, poured sweet tea into a thermos, and slipped on a coat.
Seeing the hurried old woman, the girl flinched and covered a bruise on her temple with a warm scarf.
Dont worry, love, Margaret said, handing over the food. I wont let you starve.
The girl smiled with just her eyes and took the sandwiches. She settled on a bench a short way off and began to eat greedily, swallowing large bites, coughing as she went. She watched the child wailing in anothers arms, forced the last bite down, washed it with tea, brushed crumbs off, and hurried back to Margaret.
Thanks, now well last until seven, then theyll take us, she told the old woman.
For the rest of the day Margaret kept checking the window, watching the thermometer outside as the frost grew deeper.
By five in the evening she ladled stew into a jar and headed back to the supermarket for more supplies.
Passing a young woman, she set a jar of food beside her, slipped a few coins into her pocket, gave a mysterious wink, and hurried back into the warm trading floor.
This time she wasnt planning to linger. She needed sausage and pickles for the traditional New Years salad. She couldnt afford an extravagant feast, but she wouldnt go hungry. When she left the shop she saw no beggar where shed been before, and the stew jar was gone. She must be eating somewhere, she thought, smiling, and hurried home.
Now she would slice cold cuts, pop a carp into the oven, and set the table. Perhaps an elderly neighbour would drop by.
It was nearing ten when Margaret again looked out the window, wanting to be sure the girl had been taken home to warmth.
She scanned the festive lights strung around the shopping centre. On a bench under a bright lamp sat a familiar silhouette, shoulders trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Margaret rushed about the house. In two hours the celebration would begin, yet someone was still out in the cold. She threw a warm scarf over her shoulders, slipped into her house slippers, and hurried down the stairs. She paused beside the beggar, breathing hard, trying to calm her racing heart, and sank down next to her.
I have nowhere else to go, she whispered, voice shaking.
Hope flickered in the girls eyes as she clutched a bundle shed been holding.
Please look after him, she pleaded, pressing the bundle into Margarets hands, then shuffled toward the road.
Margarets mind swirled. The young womans intent was clear now. She couldnt just walk away from a life that should be happy. She rose with effort, chased after the fleeing figure, caught up, and spun her around.
Whoa! What are you up to? Follow me! she shouted, pointing toward a fivestorey building nearby, grabbing the girls hand and pulling her along.
Inside the warm room Margaret placed the baby by the radiators.
Whats your name? she asked, then stopped when she saw a little bear pendant around the girls neck.
The girl followed Margarets gaze and said, Dont worry, this is all I have left from my mother.
The old woman stared at the pendant, remembering shed given it to her late daughter Mabel years ago. When Margaret was struggling for money, shed sold a jeweled brooch to a goldsmith, who, after much fuss, turned it into a pendant. He paid her for the brooch, and she used the money to buy a gold chain and a modest celebration for Mabels friends at a café.
The girl slipped off her coat, looked at Margaret and asked, May I use the shower?
With a nod, Margaret let her off, then sipped some valerian tonic.
So the beggar is her granddaughter but that cant be, Margaret mused.
She tucked the nowfed child onto the sofa and invited the guest to sit at the already laidout table.
Alice! she called out, as if by chance.
How do you know? the girl asked.
Margaret waved vaguely, I think I heard you eating.
A cold bead of sweat formed on Margarets forehead. No doubt remainedshe had taken in her own granddaughter. The name had been chosen by the officials for the unborn child Mabel had carried.
The girl smiled gratefully and admired the dishes before beginning to eat.
Margaret watched her closely, searching for familiar features.
Tell me, Alice, what happened to you? she asked.
The girl, as if waiting for the question, spoke quickly, words tumbling as if she were emptying a chest of longkept pain.
She said shed lived with both parents until age five, had a pony, then the parents fought, divorced, and her mother left her at a childrens home, signing an abandonment form. She didnt understand why she was cast out like an unwanted toy. She spent twelve years in foster care before being released into adulthood.
She ended up in a flat given to an orphan, but it turned out to be a condemned building. There she met Vasily, a plumber. When he learned Alice was pregnant, he vanished. The building was cleared, and she was allowed to stay in a rundown flat until she gave birth.
Her new flat was already occupied by someone else.
Alice wasnt good at fighting for herself, especially with a baby in her arms. So she turned to begging at stations and the underground. Thats when Igor Grey, who ran a shelter for the homeless, spotted her.
A pretty beggar with a child will bring in decent money, he thought, offering her a place in exchange for the alms she gathered.
Thus she and her son lived in a large basement of a tower block, among many others like herselfcrippled, sick, and theatrical beggars. They called theatrical those who painted bruises and wounds on themselves, wore fake hunchbacks or swollen bellies. The best performers earned the owner good cash, unlike Alice, who could not beg effectively.
Days turned into weeks. In the mornings, the beggars were dispatched to different spots; evenings brought the tally. Conditions were tolerable, but lately pressure grew. They said money was scarce, and a baby who constantly cried was a nuisance.
Today no one came for her; she was left to fate. She stared sorrowfully at a halfempty plate.
Thank you, I dont know how wed have survived the night.
She set her fork down and yawned.
At dawn well leave, dont worry, I just need a little sleep.
Alice slumped back, and within a heartbeat she was asleep.
Margaret roused her, helped her to a bed, and placed the baby beside her in a deep armchair.
The old woman sat at the New Years table, smiling as the Prime Ministers speech played on the telly. She would never let her granddaughter and grandson go, not tomorrow, not the day after, never. They would stay with her. In time shed reveal who she truly was, help the girl stand on her own feet, raise the boy. For now, shed let her settle into a proper home. Shed had enough hardship.
When the clock struck twelve, Margaret poured herself a small dram of brandy and took a sip of the sweet liqueur.
She walked to the window and stared at the street lit by lanterns. Watching the snowflakes fall, she thought, Thank you, Lord, for this unexpected blessing. Goodbye, loneliness! I have a family again.
