Ally grew up in an orphanage, surrounded by other children like herself and the staff who looked after them. Life wasnt easy, but she learned to stand her ground and protect the younger ones. She had a strong sense of justiceshe couldnt bear to see the weak bullied. Sometimes she took the brunt of it herself, but she never cried, knowing she suffered for what was right.
Shed been christened Albinia, but at the orphanage, her name was shortened to Ally. When she turned eighteen, she was sent out into the world to fend for herself. At least she had a tradeshed trained as a cook and had already been working as a kitchen assistant in a café for a few months. The council gave her a room in a hostel, but it was grim by any measure.
Around that time, shed started seeing Victor, who was three years older and worked at the same café as a van driver. They moved in together quickly, settling into his one-bed flat, a leftover from his late gran.
«Albinia, come live with me,» hed said. «That hostel rooms a dumpthe lock doesnt even work properly. Needs a proper refurb.» She agreed without hesitation.
She liked Victor because he was older, more serious. One day, the topic of kids came up, and he scoffed, «Cant stand screaming brats. Nothing but noise and trouble.»
«Victor,» she said, shocked, «but if its your own childyour flesh and bloodhow can you talk like that?»
«Whatever. Drop it. I dont want kids, end of,» he muttered.
His words stung, but she told herself, *If we ever marry, children will happen, and maybe hell change his mind by then.*
Ally worked hard at the café, even covering for the head cook, Valerie, when she called in sick with a «headache»though everyone knew it was just another hangover.
«Valerie, one more slip-up and youre out,» the manager, Max, warnedthough he knew she was a skilled cook, and regulars often praised her.
«Your chefs brilliant, Max,» mates would say.
So Valerie clung to her job, enduring the warnings. She knew they only kept her because she cooked well. She had noticed her young assistant Ally was capablequick, passionate. Even Max had started keeping an eye on her.
Once, Ally overheard Max talking to the floor manager. «If Valerie skips again, shes done. Allys young, but shes got talentjust as good, if not better. Shes reliable, not spoiled.»
She didnt catch the resttheyd moved away.
*So Max has noticed me. But I feel sorry for Valerieshes kind, just ruined by the drink.* She decided not to tell anyone, not even Victor.
Time passed. Valerie vanished for a week. Ally took over, and not a single customer complainedno one even noticed the switch. When Valerie finally returned, she was a wreck: shaking hands, dark circles under her eyes, barely able to lift her head.
Max walked into the kitchen. «Valerie, my office. Now.»
She was sacked. Later, Max addressed the staff. «Ally, youre head cook from today. Youve got potentialIve seen it. Keep pushing yourself.» He smiled. «Good luck.»
«Thanks,» she said, nerves fluttering at the responsibility.
She was thrilledthe pay was decent, and she was so young to be in charge. *Ill prove myself. I wont let Max down.*
That evening, Victor brought champagne. «Lets toast your promotion. Well done, Ally. Youve made it.» He smirked.
Theyd lived together for years, but hed never proposed.
Ally worked hard, earning the occasional praise from Maxshe had a real gift for cooking. Three years passed with Victor. He didnt drink, was usually on the road, and never raised a hand to her. There were rows, of course, but they made up fast. Still, no ring, no talk of marriageshe didnt push it, though she wondered. *Weve been together so long. If I get pregnant, maybe hell commit. A proper family.*
She remembered his warning*I dont like kids*but pushed the thought away.
Then she realised she was expecting. A trip to the clinic confirmed itearly days, but she was overjoyed. *No family of my own, but this little one will be mine.* She cradled her still-flat stomach, smiling.
Victor came home to find her beaming. «Whats got you so happy?»
«Its wonderful news. I went to the doctor todaywere having a baby.»
His face darkened. «I dont want it. Get rid of it, or pack your things. I wont stop you. I told youI hate kids. You went behind my back. Deal with the consequences.»
His voice was calm, but it chilled her. Hed never hidden his feelings, but shed hoped hed soften when he heard. His lips tightened; he turned away. Then, coldly:
«Youre an orphan. Where will you go, pregnant and alone? Think carefully. Get rid of it. Stay, and well go on as before. Youve got nowhere else.»
The next day, after her shift, Ally went home, gathered her things, and left for the hostel. She stood before peeling door number thirty-five, the marker-scrawled digits barely legible. With a sigh, she shouldered it openunlocked.
The hinges groaned as she stepped inside. *Home? Hardly.* The room reeked of damp and dust. The ceiling flaked, a dark stain spread in one corner, dead flies littered the grimy windowsill.
«Cheerful,» she muttered.
A rusty bed frame held a stained mattress; a rickety table and chair stood near a battered wardrobe, its door hanging loose. She set down her baga few clothes, books, plates, mugs. Her hand drifted to her stomach, still flat but holding her whole world.
«Well manage,» she whispered.
Next door, a drunk bellowed curses before slamming his door. She flinched.
«Welcome home, Ally,» she said softly.
The shared kitchen was worsea greasy stove, a wheezing fridge, cockroaches swarming the bin.
Back in her room, she bolted the door. The lump in her throat almost brought tears, but she swallowed them. For the first time, she felt free. *»Where will you go?»* Victor had sneered.
Well, here. Her own space, grim as it was. Shed make it work. She went to the grimy window. Overcast, a drizzly summer.
«Well manage,» she repeated. *Because I chose this. Because I wont do what my parents didabandon my child.*
She had a job, savings, determination. *Ill turn this room into a home.*
No time to wasteshe found a bucket, an old blouse for a rag, and got to work. Soon, she sat on a clean chair, gazing through a sparkling window. The floor gleamed, scrubbed twice to remove paint streaks. The air smelled fresh.
«Right. Rest over. Time to shopblankets, pillows, towels, soap, washing powder. A proper lock firstIll ask that handyman, Pete. Then dishes…»
Bit by bit, life improved. Pete, the hostels cheerful handyman, fitted the lock, cracking jokes to lift her spirits.
At the café, a new waiter, Timothy, watched her closely. Everyone knew shed soon be on maternity leave. One evening, he walked her home, and she invited him in for politeness. His lingering gaze made her flushthen panic. *Im pregnant.* She shut down the thought.
But Timothy kept pursuing her. One day, he said, «Albinia, marry me. Youre alone; Im alone. My grans back in the village, but no one else. I love youyou and your baby.»
«But, Tim» she gestured to her belly.
«Dont say it. Thisll be my child too. I want a house full of kids.» He smiled.
She couldnt help comparing him to Victornight and day. Tim was warm, caring, working two jobs without complaint. She said yes.
Months later, he drove her to hospital, waited as she delivered their son, then rushed home to wallpaper the room, paint, set up the cot and pram. When she returned, balloons filled the transformed space.
Ally barely recognised it. Tim had worked miracles.
Home at last.
