In the little Yorkshire village of Ashford a freshly divorced woman found a baby left on her doorstep. A year later, the village gossip knocked on her door.
What, your man didnt turn up? the curious looks of the local ladies were fixed on Eleanor Whitaker. She lowered her eyes, unsure how to answer.
No, and why would he have come back? Were split, Eleanor replied, trying to sound confident.
Split, not split Tom isnt a prize either. Its unlikely anyone will call him a treasure any time soon, the women continued, but Eleanor didnt want to stay in the conversation. She grabbed her groceries and hurried out of the corner shop.
She knew the rumours would spread through the whole hamlet. In this part of England a divorce is almost unheard of; even if a husband drinks too much or raises his hand, people expect you to stick together.
Tom Harding was a different sort of fellow he never drank, never shouted, and that made him unpopular. All the lads crawl home after payday, but Tom is as sober as a judge, people would say, using him as a cautionary tale. Envy still got the better of him, and it spilled over onto Eleanor. Whisperings that Tom had a lover on the side swirled, but neither the rumours nor the idle chatter changed anything for the couple. Their arguments were always settled behind closed doors.
When the split finally became obvious, it shocked everyone.
Eleanor withdrew into herself, sharing nothing with anyone. Though the villagers seemed ready to lend a hand, she kept her distance. She trudged home over the squeaking snow, a hollow feeling inside.
Six months had passed since Tom left, and thoughts of him still lingered.
Eleanor had been the one to push for the divorce. Tom didnt agree right away; he only gave in when life became intolerable. It all began when she noticed his forlorn stare at the children playing by the nursery.
Tom, we need to have a serious chat, she said one afternoon.
Sure, what is it? Deciding whats for dinner? he joked, but Eleanor was resolute.
I want a divorce, she blurted, like thunder on a clear day.
Why? he asked, genuinely puzzled.
Families should have children. We dont, and probably never will. I think its best we part ways. Youll find someone else and start a family, Eleanor explained, hoping hed understand.
Tom looked genuinely upset.
Did you ever ask if I needed a child if you werent around? Lets not bring that up again.
No, Tom, well come back to this. Ive filed for divorce, she said.
Tom missed every court hearing and they were divorced in absentia.
When Eleanor unfolded the divorce papers at home, Tom fought back a smile.
So, thats it then, he muttered through clenched teeth.
Yes, Tom. Id like you to go, Eleanor replied.
She shut herself in her bedroom, listening to him packing. She wanted to say goodbye one last time but couldnt bring herself to stop him. When the door slammed, she rushed to the window and watched Tom walk away.
With his departure Eleanor felt as if her soul was leaving her body. She struggled to adjust to life without him. Evenings found her scrolling through old photographs, recalling the days when their house was full of friends. Now no one visited; she had turned them all away.
One afternoon, returning home, she spotted a large basket on the doorstep. Not the usual roughhewn village basket, but a sleek one that looked like it belonged in a boutique, big enough to hold three potatoes. Eleanor looked aroundno one in sight. Who had left it there?
She tiptoed closer and peered inside.
Whos playing tricks now? she whispered to herself.
Suddenly something moved inside the basket. Eleanor jumped back, then leaned in again.
Oh my! she exclaimed, hoisting the basket and sprinting inside.
Inside was a tiny infant, no bigger than a loaf of bread. Eleanor had never handled a baby before, but she immediately began caring for the child. It was a little girl. She swaddled her and covered her with a blanket.
When the baby fell asleep again, Eleanor sat beside her and asked with a smile,
What am I supposed to do with you, little one?
She named her Poppy. The baby was so cute, with tiny fingers Eleanor couldnt tell how many months old she was, but the child could sit propped up on pillows and happily gobbled down some sweet mush.
The night was almost sleepless; Eleanor fretted over the tiny sleeper on her own bed. God, what a wondrous feeling it was to watch her hiccup and scrunch her nose!
The next day she decided not to rush to the authorities. She took the baby out for nighttime walks so no neighbours would see, took a few days off work, and ran errands while Poppy napped. She knew eventually she would have to hand the child over, but she kept postponing it.
Three weeks later a police constable knocked on Eleanors door. He entered, inspected the room, then turned to the trembling homeowner.
MrsWhitaker, shall we have a chat?
He wrote a report, then heard Eleanor, eyes brimming, ask where the child would be taken.
Im not sending her away, just passing on the information. Why are you crying? Dont you want to say goodbye? If the mother doesnt want the child, who else will care? the constable said.
Ive heard single women can be turned down for adoption, Eleanor replied.
We can help. Good references, proper paperwork. Nothing happens without us, the constable noted.
Eleanor hadnt expected the bureaucracy to chew up five whole months of her life, but the feeling of finally keeping Poppy legally was worth every nervetwisting minute.
She went on maternity leave for eighteen months the scheme for people who adopt from care.
Today Poppys first birthday was being celebrated. Eleanor wasnt exactly sure of the babys birth date; the doctor had given an approximate range.
She decided the day should be special. While Poppy slept, she filled the room with multicoloured balloons, giving the space a festive glow.
Then she fetched a huge doll from the shop. The shop assistant giggled at the purchase.
Where on earth do you need such a massive doll?
Eleanor answered, Let it guard Poppys cot forever.
When the village learned Eleanor had taken in a child, their attitude shifted. Rumours swirled about who the real parents might be, most concluding that Eleanors little cottage by the road was the perfect spot for someone to drop off a child. The constable fed the gossip, noting that if the child now meant so much to her, she should stay.
Eleanor worried a knock on the door might bring someone demanding the child back. Yet each morning Poppys grin lit Eleanors world.
Good morning, my little sunshine, Eleanor laughed.
Poppy beamed, and Eleanor dressed her quickly. Their home was warm, so Poppy played on the carpet. Eleanor placed the big doll in front of her, and Poppy examined it with wide eyes, glancing at her mum now and then. Eleanor chuckled as the toddler reached for the doll, nudged it closer, stood on her wobbly legs, froze, and then toddled forward, clutching the dolls plastic arms. Eleanors heart swelled as she spun the delighted child in her arms.
A sudden knock interrupted the merriment. Eleanor froze, holding Poppy tighter. The door opened slowly, like a scene from a horror film.
Standing there was Tom, thinner than before but with the same warm gaze. He looked at Poppy, then scanned the room.
Sorry I see youre doing fine. Whats her name? he asked.
Poppy, Eleanor replied, noticing a flicker of confusion on his face. Tom, she isnt our daughter. I adopted her. Come in.
Tom paused at the invitation, then shrugged off his coat and shoes.
Take off your shoes, Tom. Its Poppys birthday. Lets have tea and cake, and Ill fill you in.
Eleanor studied his face with a hint of sadness.
Are you well? Eating anything? she asked.
He looked at himself, chuckled.
Appetites been scarce. Thats how it went, he said softly, his smile melting Eleanors heart. Shed missed him.
Poppy stretched her tiny hands toward Tom. The gesture was clear pick me up. Tom nodded, grinned, and asked,
Can I hold her while you make the tea?
They all sat on the floor, playing with the doll. Tom teased,
Wheres the dolls mouth? And its eyes?
Poppy pointed confidently, then burst into giggles. Eleanor brushed away happy tears.
They finally talked when Poppy fell asleep after lunch. Eleanor confessed everything.
Why didnt you try to contact me? It mustve been hard on you, alone? Tom asked.
No, its fine. Why? I thought youd found someone else and maybe were expecting a baby, Eleanor said.
Tom looked away, murmuring,
I once found love, but she turned out to be stubborn.
When darkness fell, Tom began to pack.
Two more hours on the road, he said.
Eleanor crossed her arms, realizing his departure was imminent.
Maybe thats for the best, he added, but you have no idea how hard it is for me. Without you I dont need any children, understand? I try to leave you behind, yet you keep appearing in my dreams. I came hoping to see you and finally forget, but it only made things worse.
Eleanor, fighting back tears, replied,
I dont know what to do. I feel the same. Not a minute passes without thinking of you. What now, Tom?
Tom smiled suddenly.
I know what we should do.
Eleanor stared, surprised.
Its simple, Tom continued. We split because we had no kids. Now we have Poppy. We could be a family again.
Marry again? Eleanor asked.
Tom tossed his coat aside, picked up a decorative knob from the mantle, and faced her.
Darling, will you marry me? I promise to look after you and Poppy.
Eleanor sat beside him, gazed into his eyes.
Yes a thousand times yes.
He slipped a modest ring onto her finger and pulled her into a tight hug.
All this time without you felt like a dream. Now its as if Im waking up, as if life is starting anew.
A year later Eleanor and Tom welcomed a son, Michael. The hospital had initially turned them away, but after a maze of paperwork the boy finally found his home.
Now we have a princess and a prince. Hes small now, but hell grow up to protect his sister, Tom said.
They stood together, arms around each other, watching their children. Their eyes said it all: this was, at last, a genuinely happy family.
