Ally grew up in an orphanage, surrounded by children just like her and the carers who looked after them. Life had never been sweet, but she learned to stand up for herself and protect the younger ones. She had a strong sense of justice and couldnt bear to see the weak picked on. Sometimes she paid the price, but she never criedshe knew she was suffering for what was right.
Her full name was Albina, but at the orphanage, they shortened it to Ally. The moment she turned eighteen, she was sent out into the world on her own. At least she had a tradeshed trained as a cook and had already been working for a few months as a kitchen assistant in a café. They gave her a room in a shared house, but it was in such a state she could hardly bear to look at it.
By then, she was seeing Victor, who was three years older than her and worked as a van driver for the same café. Things moved quicklysoon, she was living with him in his one-bed flat, left to him by his grandmother.
«Ally, come stay with me,» he said. «That rooms a dump, the lock barely works. Needs a proper fix-up.» She agreed without hesitation.
She liked Victorhe was older, more serious. One day, they got onto the topic of kids, and he said bluntly, «Cant stand the little ankle-biters. Nothing but noise and hassle.»
«Victor,» Ally said, surprised, «but if its your own childyour own flesh and bloodhow can you talk like that?»
«Whatever. Drop it. I said I dont like kids, end of,» he shrugged.
His words stung, but she pushed the hurt aside. *If we get married, kids are bound to happen. Maybe by then hell change his mind.*
At work, Ally was diligent. She often covered for the head cook, Valerie, when she called in sick with a «migraine.» Everyone knew the real reasonValerie drank too much and couldnt stop.
«One more slip-up, Valerie, and youre out,» the manager, Max, warned, though he knew she was a brilliant cookcustomers always praised her food.
«Your chefs top-notch, Max,» friends would say.
So Valerie clung to her job, gritting her teeth through the warnings. She knew they only kept her because she could cook. And she noticed how Ally, her young assistant, was just as goodquick, efficient, cooking with heart. Even Max had started paying attention to her.
Once, Ally overheard Max talking to the floor manager.
«One more no-show from Valerie, and shes out. Allys young, but shes got the knack. Not spoiled, reliable.»
*So Max has his eye on me. But I feel bad for Valerieshes kind, just cant kick the drink.* She kept the conversation to herself, not even telling Victor.
Time passed. Eventually, Valerie disappeared for a week. Ally took over, and no customers complained. When Valerie finally returned, she was a messshaking hands, dark circles under her eyes.
Max walked into the kitchen. «Valerie, my office. Now.»
She was sacked. Later, Max announced to the staff, «Ally, from today, youre head chef. Youve got talentkeep pushing yourself.»
«Thank you,» she said, nerves fluttering. *Big responsibility.*
But she was thrilledthe pay was decent, and at her age, to be a head chef was huge. *I wont let Max down.*
That evening, Victor brought home champagne.
«Lets celebrate your promotion. Knew youd get there,» he smirked.
Theyd been together for years, but hed never mentioned marriage.
More time passed. Ally worked hard, earning Maxs praise. She had a gift for cooking. Her life with Victor settledno drinking, no real fights. But still, no proposal.
*Maybe if I get pregnant, hell come round. A real family.*
She remembered his words about kids. Hed never brought it up again, and neither had sheshe was just getting on her feet, after all.
Then, one day, she realised she *was* pregnant. The doctor confirmed it. She was overjoyed.
*No family of my ownbut now therell be someone whos mine.*
When Victor came home, she beamed at him.
«Youre glowing. Whats up?»
«Went to the doctor today. Were having a baby.»
His face darkened. «I dont want it. Either get rid of it, or get out. I told youno kids.»
His voice was ice-cold. Not a shout, just final.
«Youre an orphan. Where will you go? Pregnant? Think about it.»
The next day, after her shift, Ally packed her things and went back to her old room in the shared house. The peeling door, marked with a faded *35*, creaked open. Inside was damp, dingypeeling paint, dead flies on the sill.
A rusty bed, a grimy mattress, a wobbly table.
*Not exactly home.*
She set down her baga few clothes, some books, plates, and cups. Then she touched her still-flat stomach.
«Well manage,» she whispered.
Next door, a drunk neighbour shouted, slamming doors.
«Welcome home, Ally,» she muttered.
The shared kitchen was worsestained cooker, a fridge that rattled, cockroaches by the bin.
Back in her room, she locked the flimsy bolt. The hurt rose, but thensuddenlyfreedom.
*»Where will you go?»* Victor had sneered.
Well, here. To this room. *Her* room.
Shed clean it, make it liveable. She wasnt afraid of work.
She went to the grimy window. Outside, the sky was grey.
«Well manage,» she repeated. *Because I chose this. Because I wont do what my parents didabandon my child. Ive got a job, savings. Ill make this a home.*
No time to waste. She grabbed an old blouse, a towel, and got to work.
Soon, the room was cleanfresh air blowing through the open window.
«Right,» she said. «New lock first. Then bedding, towels, soap. Pans, plates…»
Bit by bit, life settled. Pete, the handyman at the house, fitted the new lock. He was kind, always cracking jokes.
At the café, life went on. Tim, a part-time waiter, started paying her attention. Everyone knew shed soon be on maternity leave.
One evening, he walked her home. She offered tea out of politenesshe accepted. That night, she sensed his feelings but pushed them away. *Im pregnant. No point.*
But Tim kept trying. Then one day, he said, «Ally, marry me. Youre alone, Im alone. Got an old gran in the village, but no one here. I love you. And your baby.»
«But» She touched her stomach.
«Doesnt matter. Hell be mine too. I want kidslots of them.»
She compared him to Victornight and day. Tim was warm, caring, working two jobs.
She said yes.
Later, Tim drove her to the hospital and waited. When their son was born, he rushed home to paint the room, set up the crib, the pram.
When Ally came back, she barely recognised the place. Balloons, fresh paintTim had done it all.
