In a bitter frost the wind knocked against the door, and a barefoot, heavilypregnant woman thumped her way inside. Inside the cottage it was warm and snug, the fire crackled softly in the stove, a beloved drama played on the telly, and outside a snowstorm howled. Agnes, an elderly lady who had once served as the village nurse, settled into her threadbare armchair, watching a film while stroking Morris the cat, who had curled into a perfect ball on her lap.
Suddenly a harsh rap sounded at the window, then at the front gate. Basil the dog erupted in a frantic bark that turned to a hoarse whine, and then everything fell silent.
Who could come in such weather? A trick of the mind? the woman wondered, reluctantly slipping on her woolen slippers and coat before stepping out to fetch more wood.
She fought her way through the drift to the gate, opened it, and froze, eyes wide with disbelief. On the icy doorstep, barely keeping her balance, a young woman leaned against the fence. She wore only a nightgown, her bare feet chilled, and a knitted shawl draped over her shoulders. Her belly swelled with obvious pregnancy.
She barely moved her lips and whispered, Please, dont turn me away! Help me, they want to take my child!
There was no time for thought. Agnes hurried the girl inside, wrapping her in a coat.
Oh dear, what on earth is happening? Who would dare cast a pregnant woman out into the cold! she exclaimed, her voice shaking.
As a former nurse she knew the dangers of a winter walk for a expecting mother. She boiled water, warmed the girls feet, swabbed them with spirit, wrapped her in blankets, offered hot tea with raspberry jam, and settled her down to sleep without asking any questions. Morning knows what night does not, Agnes muttered.
The girl fell asleep instantly, managing only a whispered Thank you. All night the street was restless: people ran, shouted, cars circled.
Ethel awoke to the enchanting scent of fried eggs on a skillet and fresh scones. Her unborn child stirred anxiously. She slipped out from under the covers. By her bedside lay a warm nightgown and a pair of cosy slippers. A wave of nostalgia washed over her, recalling the simple comforts of her grandmothers cottage in the countryside, and she did not wish to return to the harsh, cruel world outside.
In the kitchen, Agnes placed golden, fluffy pancakes on a plate. She glanced at Ethel and, gently, said, Well then, dear, get washed up and sit down for breakfast. The baby must be hungry, and then you can tell us what happened, love.
After a hearty meal, Ethel sighed and began her tale.
Im an orphan; I grew up in a childrens home. I never knew my parents. Until I was five, my grandmother, Auntie Mary, raised me. She loved me, then she died, and I went back to the home. After I left, they gave me a flat and sent me to a teachers college. At a disco I met a very wealthy lad. All the girls swooned over him, but he chose me. He was ten years older, owned a house in the neighboring village, his father a bigshot. He courted me with flowers, took me to the cinema, and I fell head over heels. All the girls were jealous, thinking Id snagged a prize catch. When I realised I was pregnant, his demeanor changed. He grew angry, started drinking, came home drunk in the mornings. I begged him to stop, but he ignored me. Two weeks ago he brought another girl home and laughed with her in front of me. I was devastated. I tried to pack my things and leave, but he blocked my way, shouting, Where do you think youre going? Youll stay, bear my child, then Ill toss you out. Youll never see your son! He locked me in a room, ordered the housekeeper to bring me food, and left me weeping.
Agnes asked, Is this really happening? What will you do now?
I dont know. Please dont send me away! Tom will take the baby after its born and then dump me. Im nobody, not even his wife, just an orphan with no one to protect me. I might as well end my life, Ethel sobbed again.
Agnes placed a firm hand on her shoulder. You must push those thoughts away. My son, Greg, is the local police constable; hell be back from his shift soon. Tell him everything, perhaps he can help.
Greg, returning home after his night patrol, reflected on how unfair life could be. He had recently split from his wife, Irene, who despised his modest police salary and constant worries. She wanted him to quit and join a lucrative business, to whisk her off to fashionable resorts. Their quarrels led to divorce, after which she ran off with a wealthy man abroad, leaving Greg to return to his mothers house. He had decided that women were nothing but selfinterest.
Entering the cottage, Greg called out, Hello, mum! and headed to the kitchen, where the smell of something delicious made his stomach growl.
Sweetie, meet our guestEthel. Shes in trouble. Could you listen to her, perhaps think of a way to help? Agnes prompted.
Greg glanced at the girl, who looked like a frightened fawn: large, watery blue eyes framed by thick lashes, long wheatgold hair tied in a loose bun, and a tender, swollen belly. She seemed so delicate that Gregs heart turned inside out.
Please, dont turn me over, she whispered.
Greg was stunned. What a monster! he thought, angry at the cruelty. He didnt yet know how to help, but his conscience would not let him abandon her. A strange warmth blossomed within him, and a goofy grin tugged at his lips.
Dont cry, Ethel. No one will hand you over to that brute. Where are your belongings and papers?
Theyre all with Tom at his cottage. He took my passport and the keys so I cant run. Im scared to go there, she replied, tears glistening like pearls.
Greg thought for a moment. Stay with us for now. Ill go into town, get you some clothes and what you need. Then Ill use my contacts to find out who this Tom fellow is and try to retrieve your things. Deal?
Its dangerous! Im to blame! Im sorry for pulling you into this! Ethel protested.
Dont worry! Helping people is my job, Greg declared.
Through his colleagues, Greg learned that Alexander Mallory was indeed a wealthy scion, the son of a prominent local businessman. The familys dealings were shady, with whispers of illegal activities and even drug links, though the police lacked solid evidence. Greg decided to confront Tom directly, hoping a calm approach might work.
He drove to the cottage and knocked. A polished young man answered, looking nonchalant.
What do you want? the lad asked.
Im Constable Greg Mallory. Id like to speak with you about your treatment of Miss Ethel, Greg said.
The young man sneered, Whats it to you? Ive got guests. He bristled, Shes a nuisance. I took her for a laugh, and Ill take the baby too. I dont need her, and I certainly wont give her anything.
Gregs blood boiled at the impudence. You have no right to take a child from its mother without consent! he snapped.
The scion laughed, My father controls the whole area. She gets nothing unless she gives me a son! Thats the deal! He slammed the door shut.
Incensed, Greg decided to pressure the father. He spent a month gathering evidence on the Mallory business, uncovering a trove of incriminating documents. He confronted the patriarch in his office, laying out the truth about his sons abuse of Ethel.
The businessman, after a moment of stunned silence, sighed, Ive heard enough. Ill arrange for her belongings to be returned. If it turns out shes my granddaughter, Ill help. Apologies for the trouble.
Greg rushed home, heart pounding, to tell Ethel the good news. He entered the house to find her at the kitchen table, shaping pastries, flour dusting her nose, a stray strand of hair poking out from her bun. A wave of tenderness washed over him.
Ethel, rejoice! Youre free. Tomorrow you can move into your own place. Ive sorted everything, Greg announced.
Ethel leapt up, throwing her arms around him, Thank you, Greg! I thought Id never be saved! She shouted with joy.
Agnes, ever the matriarch, intervened, But how will she manage alone, with a child and no work? she fretted.
Greg replied, Maybe we can trace your family? Find a sister or brother? He turned to Ethel. Ive always wondered about my own roots, but I dont know where to start.
Together they dug through old records, contacted a former caretaker from the childrens home, and traced Ethels lineage. The revelations were shocking. At the kitchen table, Agnes, Greg and Ethel wept together.
Agnes clutched an old photograph, You look just like my sister, Lily. She was pregnant, left the hospital claiming the baby died, then vanished. She crashed her car two years later, drunk. I think fate led you here, dear. She stroked Ethels hand.
Greg lowered his head, So were… cousins? he whispered.
He slipped outside, collapsed onto the garden wall, his knees giving way, fists pounding the earth as tears streamed down. Why? Why this? he sobbed, his heart torn between love and duty.
Life gradually settled into a new rhythm. Ethel gave birth to a healthy boy, Sam, and moved into her own flat. Weekends she visited Aunt Agnes, who delighted in rocking the infant and singing lullabies.
Greg, however, seemed altered. He grew thin, stopped eating, withdrew, and took to drinking. He feared looking at Ethel, his feelings a tangled mess of longing and guilt. Ethel, whenever their eyes met, blushed and looked away, aware that their love was forbidden but unable to silence her heart.
Agnes watched all this, her heart aching. At night she whispered, Lord, give me strength to reveal the truth. I cant keep this secret any longer. She had guarded the secret for years, but now the burden was too great.
When Ethel came for a visit, Agnes placed baby Sam on the veranda, called Greg and Ethel into the sitting room, opened an old wooden chest, and began, Greg, my son, I thought youd never learn that I kept this secret to the grave. But I cant any longer. I raised you as my own because the real motheryour birth motherabandoned you in the hospital. I adopted you, fearing youd be taken away. Im sorry, my dear.
Greg was stunned, tears spilling, Is it true? Are we really…? He fell to his knees, embraced his mother, and whispered, Thank you, Mum, for everything.
Ethel stood, stunned, unable to speak. Can this really be? she murmured.
Greg composed himself, approached Ethel, and said, From the moment I saw you, I loved you. Even knowing we cant be together, my life halted. Will you marry me? Ill raise Sam as my own, Ill be a faithful husband. He looked at her with hopeful, trembling eyes.
Ethels cheeks flushed. I will, she whispered.
No longer haunted by the terrors of the past, they looked toward a bright future. The dreamlike night faded, leaving only the soft glow of the cottage hearth, the scent of fresh bake, and the promise of tomorrow.
