It was many years ago, when the summer was drawing near, that Clara never liked the season. It wasnt the heat that bothered her; it was that Jack hardly ever came home once the days grew long.
Clara and Jack had been married for seven years. Their life was quiet, their arguments few. She was grateful to Jack for taking her and her infant son, Tom, into his stead. Tom was barely a year old then. His father, Arthur, had vanished the moment he learned of his friends pregnancy, ignoring calls and refusing to open the door. One day Clara went to his workshop just to see his face. When he saw her, he shook so violently that she laughed and said, Dont worry, Arthur, Im not after anything from you this isnt your child. I knew, I knew! Arthur shouted with relief, turning triumphantly to his mates who had been watching. You cant expect me to raise a child that isnt mine!
It isnt yours, its mine, Clara replied calmly. Men like you never have true children; to you every child is a stranger. Arthur could only gasp for breath, unable to answer, while the onlookers turned away in disdain. Clara left, vowing never to see that oncebeloved man again.
When Tom turned six months, Clara asked her mother, who was retired on a modest pension, to look after the boy while she returned to work. Before her maternity leave she had been employed at a furniture shop, and the proprietor gladly took her back. Reliable and pleasant workers were a rarity. It was there she met Jack Watson, who delivered timber and furnishings from the factory.
Clara told Jack about Tom straightaway; he showed no surprise, only a serious smile. Lets get married then. Youll have another boy, and later a girl. I love children. The proposal took Clara off guard; she had not been ready for marriage. Yet Jack was handsome, dependable, and earned well driving his own lorry. With a sick mother and an uncertain future, she thought it wise to accept. Within three months she became Mrs. Watson.
Surprisingly, the marriage suited her. Jack was diligent, never quarrelsome, and, most importantly, not jealous. Clara gave him no cause for envy; she was a faithful wife and hoped he would not look elsewhere. When she once asked whether he was unfaithful, he chuckled and said that only if she grew plump and roamed the house in an old, tattered dressing gown would he consider it. She reassured herself she would never be seen in such a gown.
Seven years passed. Jack bought a larger lorry and began hauling goods across the country, earning well but rarely staying home. Clara opened her own furnishing shop and kept busy to stave off loneliness. Tom, now eight, had grown into a kind, athletic boy with a few medals to his name. He loved Jack, even though he knew the man was not his biological father, and he tried hard to make him proud.
However, Clara never bore another child for Jack. Five years earlier doctors had told them that their inability to conceive was likely due to simple incompatibility. Clara took the news without drama, for she already had Tom, yet she felt a deep guilt toward Jack. She promised him a child; he waited eagerly. When the truth settled in, Jacks spirits sank for a while, then revived. He became more attentive to the shop and Toms achievements, which delighted Clara. She was glad Jack had come to terms with their childlessness and returned to his old self.
Jacks parents lived a hundred miles away in a small village near the market town of Whitby. Jack often stayed the night at their cottage, sometimes more often than at his own home. Clara felt a pang of jealousy, wondering why his parents received so much of his time, but she soothed herself by remembering that Mrs. Margaret and Mr. George were already in their sixties. Their old house needed help, and she did not quarrel with Jack over it; she feared upsetting him after the two years of his melancholy.
One May evening, Clara felt an uneasy foreboding. Perhaps it was the summers heat making Jacks absences harder to bear. She dialed his mobile, Jack, where are you? At your parents? Why does your voice sound so low? Did something happen? Im sorry if Ive upset you. She stared at the dead screen, tears welling up. Jack had never spoken so harshly to her before. Restless, she drove Tom to his grandmothers and then set off for the village.
She arrived late, the lorry nowhere in sight. Disappointed, she knocked. Margaret opened the door, blushing with surprise, then welcomed her in and set a pot of tea. George was asleep, so the house remained quiet. As Clara began to speak of her worry, a small, sleepy girl of about three emerged from a bedroom, rubbing her eyes and calling for her mother. Margaret swooped up the child, cooing and humming a simple lullaby.
Where did this child come from? Clara asked once the girl was settled. Shes our cousins daughter, Lucy, Margaret replied hurriedly, Our cousin died a few days ago. She left the child with us, no one else to care for her.
Will you keep her? Clara inquired softly, It must be hard for you, shes still a baby. And where is her father?
Before Margaret could answer, George emerged, roused by the little girls whimper. He paused at the doorway, then Clara stepped forward and kissed his cheek. Forgive us for waking you, dearLucy was crying. Shes a sweet little thing; thank you for not abandoning her. Itll be a strain for you both, as youre not young any more. George gave a vague nod, and Margaret explained, I told Clara that Lucys mother passed, so we took her in.
Clara asked if she could stay the night and look after Lucy. Margaret hesitated, then agreed. The whole night Clara lay awake, gently stroking the childs light hair, already forming the story she would tell Jack and his parents in the morning.
At dawn, a figure stood beside her bedJack, eyes fixed on both Clara and the sleeping girl, his face tight with fear. Jack, she whispered, shall we keep her? I can raise her. He turned away sharply and left the room. Clara hurried after him, finding him on a bench beneath an ancient birch, tears glistening.
Forgive me, he said quietly, Im sorry. For what? she asked. You dont want to take her in? she pressed. I know you wanted a child of your own, but fate dealt us this hand. Lucy looks so much like you; she could be ours. Jack closed his eyes, his teeth grinding. She looks like me because she is my daughter, he shouted. I love you, truly. It was a foolish, accidental thing. Lydiashe lived with an old aunt in the next hamletcame to me for a favor. I thought Id help. She became pregnant, insisted Id be the father, and I promised to support her. I never loved her. When she married a foreigner, she didnt want to take the baby with her, so she left the child with us, signed the papers, and vanished. My parents condemned me; they love you, but the deed is done. Im terrified of telling you, for your parents are old now.
Clara was stunned, speechless. She rose slowly, entered the childs room, and sat beside the sleeping Lucy. She wanted to loathe the infant, to search her face for any trait that wasnt Jacks, but only saw his familiar features. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she did not wipe them, hoping they would wash away the hurt. Suddenly Lucys bright blue eyes opened, and she smiled, Dont be sad, Im not sad. Let me braid your hair.
The smile broke Claras sorrow. She imagined Lucy in a grimy council home, crying unheard, then she cradled the child gently. Let me brush you, she whispered, Ill learn to braid soon enough.
Soon a court granted them guardianship of Lucy. Tom rejoiced, swearing he would protect his little sister now that he was the elder brother. Jack abandoned his longdistance hauls, and together they ran two furnishing shops.
Clara never forgot Jacks betrayal, but she forgave him, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. In late December, they returned home from a school Christmas concert, Lucy clutching a huge box of sweets given by Father Christmas. She ran to Jack, hugged him, and whispered, Daddy, what I asked Father Christmas for? Another brother or sister. Jack startled, Sweetheart, he cant grant that. Why not? Clara chimed mischievously, Can we deny such a wonderful girl? Jack froze, looking at her, while she laughed and nodded. When Tom arrived from his sports practice, he found Jack spinning Clara around, both laughing, while Lucy, chocolatesmudged, perched on the sofa. Tom sat beside her, took a candy, and said, Weve got the best parents, havent we, sister?
