From her pension, Mary allowed herself a small treat besides necessary bills and shopping at discount stores—a small bag of coffee beans.
The beans were already roasted, and when she carefully cut open a corner of the bag, the overwhelming aroma was released. Inhaling deeply with eyes closed, focusing only on the sense of smell, it was like a miracle was happening! The wonderful scent seemed to fill her with strength, conjuring up memories of dreams from her youth—exotic lands, the sound of the ocean waves, the hum of a tropical rain shower, mysterious whispers from the jungle, and the shrieks of monkeys swinging through the trees…
She hadn’t seen any of it firsthand, but her father’s stories from his research expeditions in South America had stayed with her. When he was home, he loved sharing tales of adventures in the Amazon Valley with young Mary, sipping strong brewed coffee. That aroma always reminded her of him—lean, sun-kissed, lithe, the quintessential explorer.
She had always known her parents were adoptive. She remembered the war when, as a three-year-old girl who had lost her family, she was taken in by a woman who became a mother to her for the rest of her life. After that, life unfolded like many others: school, studies, work, marriage, a son, and now, the result—a solitude. Her son, persuaded by his wife, moved abroad two decades ago and thrived with his family in Brighton. He’d visited home only once all that time. They stayed in touch, with him sending money each month that went untouched, saved in a separate account. After twenty years, it was a considerable sum destined for her son. Later…
Lately, she couldn’t shake the thought that her life, full of care and love, was borrowed. Had the war not happened, she would have had a different family, other parents, and another home, leading to a different fate. Her real parents were but shadows in her memory, but she often recalled a little girl from her early years—a peer always by her side. Her name was Rachel. Sometimes she heard the calls: “Rachel, Mary!” Were they friends, sisters?
Her musings were interrupted by her mobile phone’s ping. A glance at the screen confirmed her pension had been deposited onto her card. Good timing! She could head to the store to buy coffee—she’d brewed the last of it yesterday morning. Tapping her stick along the pavement, she edged around autumn puddles and reached the store entrance.
A gray striped cat huddled by the door, warily eyeing passersby and the glass doors. Compassion stirred in her heart: “Poor thing, you’re cold and probably hungry. I’d take you home if only… Who would care for you after I’m gone? My time is…” Still, feeling sorry for the creature, she bought a small, inexpensive packet of cat food.
She carefully squeezed the jelly mixture into a plastic tray. The cat watched patiently, eyes filled with gratitude. The store door swung open and a stout woman emerged, her expression foreboding. Without a word, she kicked the tray with such force that the jelly chunks scattered across the pavement.
“You tell them and tell them, and it’s no use!” she barked. “No feeding them around here!” Then she turned sharply and left.
The cat, casting a cautious look around, began picking up the pieces of food. Mary, breathless with indignation, felt the first pang of an impending migraine. She hurried to the bus stop—there were benches there. Sitting down, she frantically searched her pockets for tablets, but in vain.
Pain relentlessly rolled in waves, as if her head was in a vice. Her vision darkened, and a groan escaped her chest. Someone touched her shoulder. She managed to open her eyes—a young woman was looking at her anxiously.
“Are you unwell, ma’am? How can I help?”
“In the bag, there’s… coffee. Open it, please.” Mary gestured weakly.
She clung to the packaging, inhaling the roasted bean aroma once, twice. The pain didn’t disappear, but it eased.
“Thank you, dear,” Mary said faintly.
“I’m Jenny, but thank the cat too,” the girl smiled. “It stayed by your side, meowing loudly!”
“Thank you too, my dear.” Mary petted the cat sitting on the bench beside her—the same striped one.
“What happened?” Jenny asked gently.
“Migraine, dear,” Mary admitted. “I got too upset… it happens…”
“I’ll walk you home; it might be difficult for you alone.”
“My gran has migraines too,” Jenny shared as they sipped weak coffee with milk and biscuits in Mary’s flat. “She lives in the countryside with my mum, dad, and grandmother. I’m studying here, training to be a paramedic, and she calls me ‘dear’ as you do. You remind me so much of her—I thought you were her at first! Have you ever searched for your real relatives?”
“Oh Jenny, dear, how could I? I scarcely remember them—not even my own surname or where I came from,” Mary said, stroking the warm cat in her lap. “I remember a bombing when we traveled by cart, then tanks…”
“I ran and ran until I couldn’t remember myself! It was horror—horror for a lifetime! A woman found me, I called her mother ever since, and after the war, her husband became the best father one could ask for. All I have left from my past is my name. My family likely perished in the bombing. Mother, Rachel…”
Mary didn’t see Jenny’s startle or the wide-eyed look of surprise.
“Mary, do you have a birthmark on your right shoulder shaped like a leaf?” Jenny asked softly.
Taken aback, Mary spluttered on her coffee, the cat eyeing her intently.
“How do you know, dear?”
“My gran has the same one. Her name is Rachel. She still cries remembering her twin sister Mary, who disappeared during an evacuation under bombing. The enemy cut off the roads home; they endured the occupation. But Mary was lost and never found, despite all efforts to search…”
Mary had been restless since morning, pacing between window and door, awaiting visitors. Her gray striped cat shadowed her, eyes searching her face, sensing her anxiety.
“Don’t worry, Maggie. I’m fine,” she reassured the cat. “Just my heart racing…”
Finally, the doorbell rang. With trembling hands, Mary opened the door.
Two elderly women stood silently, eyes full of hope, as if looking in a mirror. They saw the unchanged blue of their eyes, curling graying locks, and the sorrowful smile lines at the corners of their lips.
Finally, the guest exhaled a sigh of relief, smiled, stepped forward, and embraced Mary.
“Hello, Mary!” she said joyfully.
From the doorway, teary-eyed with happiness, their family stood watching.
