It was a bitterly cold night when a barefoot, heavilypregnant woman knocked at the door. Inside, the cottage was warm and snug, the fire crackling in the old stove, the television humming a favourite drama, while a snowstorm howled outside. I was there, Margaret Whitaker, a retired village nurse, settled in my worn armchair, watching a film and patting Sam, my tabby cat, who was curled up on my lap.
Suddenly there came a rattle at the window, then a thump at the gate. Buster, the scruffy terrier, let out a bark so fierce his voice cracked, and then everything fell silent.
Who would bring someone out in this weather? Must be a trick, I muttered, slipping on my houseshoes and pulling on my coat. I trudged through the drifts to the gate, intent also on bringing in some firewood.
When I pushed open the gate, I froze. Standing on the icy ground, barely keeping her balance against the fence, was a young woman in only a nightshirt, barefoot, a knitted shawl draped over her shoulders. Her belly was round and unmistakably pregnant.
She whispered hoarsely, Please, dont turn me away! Help me, they want to take my baby!
There was no time to think. I hauled her inside, threw a coat over her shoulders and said, Good heavens! Who would dare cast a pregnant woman into the frost?
My old nurse instincts told me how dangerous the cold would be for her. I boiled water, washed her frozen feet, rubbed them with a bit of spirit, wrapped her warmly, poured hot tea with raspberry jam, and tucked her into the bed. I asked nothing; as they say, Morning is wiser than evening. She fell asleep almost at once, murmuring a quiet Thank you. All through the night the street was alive with shouting, running figures and the wail of car horns.
Emily woke to the scent of fried eggs and fresh bakery biscuits. The baby inside her stirred, and she slipped out of the blankets. A clean nightgown and a pair of warm slippers lay beside the bed. She felt as if she were a child again, back at her grandmothers cottage in the countryside, and didnt want to return to the harsh world outside.
In the kitchen I was plating golden pancakes. I glanced at her and said gently, Well then, runaway, go wash up and sit down for breakfast. The little one must be hungry. After you eat, tell me who you are and whats happened.
She ate heartily, then sighed and began her tale.
I grew up in an orphanage. I never knew my parents. Until I was five, my granny Mary raised me; she loved me, but she died and I was sent back to the childrens home. After I left, I got a flat and trained as a teacher. At a disco I met a rich lad, everyone stared at him. He, Robert Whitby, noticed me and chose me. He was ten years older, owned a house in the neighbouring village, his father was a bigshot businessman. He courted me, sent flowers, took me to the cinema, and I fell madly in love. All the other girls were jealous.
We lived together in his house. At first everything was fine, but when I discovered I was pregnant he changed. He started insulting me, coming home drunk. I wept, begged him to stop, but he wouldnt listen. Two weeks ago he completely abandoned me, brought another girl home and made love to her in front of me. I was shattered. I packed my things and decided to leave him, but he hit me and snarled, Where do you think youre going? You wont get far. Youll bear my child and then Ill cast you aside. Youll never see your son, understand? He locked me in a room and fed me through the maid. I cried night after night.
Yesterday evening the maid, Mrs. Clarke, felt sorry and left the door ajar. I bolted out, ran as fast as my legs could carry me, and ended up at your cottage Thank you, she sobbed.
I asked, Is this really happening? What will you do now?
She replied, Honestly, I dont know. Please dont turn me away! Robert will take the baby after its born and then throw me away. Im nothingno husband, an orphan, with no one to protect me. I might end my life, God!
I told her, Get those thoughts out of your head! Dont dwell on them. My son Gregory is the local constable; hell be back from his shift soon. Tell him everything, maybe he can help.
Gregory Hayes was walking home from his night patrol, thinking how unfair life could be. He had just split from his wife Irene, who left him because his police salary was modest and the job stressful; she wanted him to quit and join her on fancy holidays. She found a wealthy man and went abroad, leaving Gregory back at his mothers house, convinced that women were only after money.
He burst through the front door, shouted, Hello, mum! and headed straight for the kitchen, his stomach growling.
I introduced him, Son, meet our guest, Emily. Shes in trouble. Listen to her, perhaps you can sort something out.
Gregory asked, Werent you looking for her all night? Emily looked like a frightened doelarge watery blue eyes, long wheatblonde hair pulled into a ponytail, a protruding belly, and a trembling voice. My heart swelled with an unfamiliar warmth and a foolish grin.
She whispered, Please, dont hand me over! I was shocked by her plight, but I swore I wouldnt abandon her. I asked, Where are your things and documents?
She answered, Everythings with Robert at his cottage. He took my passport and the keys to my flat so I cant leave. Im terrified.
I said, Stay with us for now. Ill go into town, buy you some clothes and what you need, and use my contacts to find out who this Robert is and to get your belongings back. Deal?
She hesitated, Its dangerous; Im to blame. Im sorry for dragging you into this.
Im a police officer; its my job to help people, I replied.
Through my colleagues I learned that Alexander Malby, a wealthy heir, was indeed Roberts fathers business partner, but the familys enterprise was shady, rumored to involve illegal drugs. I decided to confront Robert directly.
I drove to his cottage and knocked. A neatlydressed young man opened the door.
Who are you and what do you want? he asked.
Im Detective Gregory Hayes. I need to speak with you, I said.
He sneered, Make it quick, I have guests.
I said, I know youve illegally held Emily, taken her documents and belongings. Return them. Shes terrified and wont come back.
Roberts face twisted. He shouted, You little brat! I dont need her. Ill take the baby and thats it. Shes useless to me!
I stood my ground, Thats illegal! You have no right to deny a mother her child!
He threatened, My father controls the whole district. Shell get nothing but my son!
Angry at his arrogance, I turned to the fathers business empire, gathered compromising evidence, and confronted the senior businessman himself. I laid out the proof, warned that I would expose everything. After a tense pause, he said, Ill sort this out. Return the documents and the baby if its truly my grandson.
I raced back home, heart pounding, to tell Emily. I found her at the kitchen table, dusting freshly baked pastries, flour dusting her nose, her hair stuck out of a loose bun.
Emily, rejoice! Youre free. Tomorrow you can move back into your own flat. Dont worry, Ive taken care of it, I said. She threw her arms around me, sobbing with relief.
I warned, What about work and a child? You have no money, no job.
She shivered, Im an orphan with a baby, Im scared.
I suggested, Lets look for your relatives. Maybe you have a sister or aunt.
Together we traced records, found an old caretaker from the childrens home, learned the name of Emilys grandmother, and discovered a tangled family web. It turned out Emilys mother had been my sisters daughtermeaning Emily and my son Gregory were cousins.
When we gathered around the kitchen table, the truth hit us. I confessed, I thought I recognized something in you, Emily. You look just like my sisters child, Valentina, who disappeared years ago. Ive been searching for her. I flipped through yellowed photographs, finding a girl with the same eyes and hair.
Gregory, stunned, asked, Are we related?
I replied, It seems we share blood. I adopted you, Gregory, after your mother died in the maternity ward. Youre my son, and Emily is your cousin.
Gregory sank to his knees, wept, and hugged me. Emily stared, unable to speak.
Later, Gregory took Emilys hand, looked her in the eye and said, Emily, I fell for you the moment I saw you. I know we cant be together as we are, but Ill fight for you. Will you marry me?
She whispered, I will.
Our lives, once tangled in misery, began to straighten. Emily gave birth to a healthyTogether they built a new family, their love and resilience stitching together the broken pieces of the past into a hopeful future.
