**Shell Make It**
Ill never forget Alfieno, wait, her full name was Alfrida, but everyone called her Alfie. Grew up in a childrens home in Manchester, no family to speak of, just other kids and the staff. Life wasnt kind, but she learned to stand her ground and defend the younger ones. Had a fierce sense of justicecouldnt stand bullies. Took a few knocks herself, but she never cried. Knew she was fighting for what was right.
When she turned eighteen, they let her out into the real world. Lucky shed trained as a cook and had already been working a few months at a café as a kitchen assistant. They gave her a room in a dodgy hostelplace was a right state.
By then, she was seeing Vic, three years older, who drove a van for the same café. Moved in with him quick enoughhe had a one-bed flat left by his gran. «Alfrida, come live with me,» hed said. «That hostels a dump. At least here the locks work.» She agreed without a second thought. Liked that he was older, more settled.
One night, they talked about kids. Vic made himself clear: «Cant stand the noise of ankle-biters. Nothing but hassle.»
Alfie frowned. «But Vic, if it were yoursyour own flesh and bloodhow could you say that?»
He waved her off. «Drop it. Ive said my piece.»
It stung, but she pushed the thought aside. Maybe hed change his mind.
At the café, Alfie worked hard. Could even cover for Valerie, the head cook, when she called in sickthough everyone knew Valeries «headaches» were just hangovers. The manager, Mr. Thompson, always threatened to sack her, but she was a brilliant cook, so he let it slide.
One day, Alfie overheard Mr. Thompson talking to the floor manager: «Valeries on thin ice. Alfies young, but shes got talent. Hard worker, too.»
Alfie felt a flicker of pride but kept quiet. Poor Valeriegood woman, bad habits.
Sure enough, Valerie went on a bender and didnt show for a week. Alfie took over, and not a single customer complained. When Valerie finally dragged herself in, shaking and grey, Mr. Thompson fired her on the spot. Then he turned to Alfie: «Youre head cook now. Dont let me down.»
That night, Vic brought home a bottle of fizz. «To your promotion,» he said, grinning. «Knew youd make it.»
Three years passed. Alfie thrived at work. Vic never hit her, never drank muchjust the odd row, quickly patched up. But he never mentioned marriage, never talked about kids. Alfie wonderedmaybe if she got pregnant, hed come round.
Then it happened. A doctor confirmed itshe was expecting. She traced her fingers over her still-flat stomach, whispering, «Youre mine. My little family.»
Vic came home to find her glowing. «Whats got you so happy?»
She beamed. «Im pregnant.»
His face went cold. «Get rid of it, or get out. I told youI dont do kids.»
No shouting, just ice in his voice. Then the final blow: «Where you gonna go, eh? Youve got no one.»
Next day, after her shift, she packed her things and left. The hostel room was grimpeeling paint, a stained mattress, a rusty bedframe. The kitchen down the hall was worse: grimy stove, fridge humming like a wasp, cockroaches scuttling.
But Alfie squared her shoulders. «Well manage,» she whispered to her belly.
She scrubbed the room raw. Bought fresh bedding, a new lock (old Mr. Jenkins from down the hall fitted it for her). Slowly, life settled.
At the café, a new waiter, Theo, started. Quiet bloke, kind eyes. One evening, he walked her home. She offered tea out of politeness, but the way he looked at hershe panicked. «Theo, Im pregnant.»
He just smiled. «I know. Marry me. That babyll be mine too.»
She compared him to Vicnight and day. Theo worked two jobs, saved every penny. When the baby came, he met her at the hospital with flowers. The flat was transformedfresh paint, a crib, even balloons.
Alfie stood in the doorway, tears in her eyes. Shed made it.
**Lesson learned: Sometimes the family you choose is stronger than the one youre given.**
