Margaret wiped her wet hands and, groaning from the pain in her back, went to answer the door. The ringing was timid but this was already the third time. She had been cleaning the window and didn’t come to the hallway right away. Behind the door stood a very young girl, quite lovely, but pale with tired eyes.
“Margaret, I heard you might have a room available?”
“Oh, these neighbors, always sending others to me! I’ve never rented out a room before.”
“But I was told you have three rooms.”
“So what? Why should I have to rent one out? I’m used to living alone.”
“Well, sorry. They mentioned you’re religious, so I thought…”
The girl turned, holding back the tears welling in her eyes, and slowly started descending the steps, her shoulders shaking.
“Hey, come back! I didn’t refuse you, did I? Young people today, so quick to tears. Come in, let’s have a chat. What’s your name? Shall we use first names?”
“It’s Mary.”
“Ah, Mary, like the sea. Is your father perhaps a sailor?”
“I don’t have a father. I came from an orphanage. No mother either. Some kind people found me in the stairwell and took me to the police. I wasn’t even a month old.”
“Well, don’t be offended now. Come in, let’s have a cup of tea and chat. Are you hungry?”
“No, I bought a pastry.”
“A pastry, you say! Oh, youngsters, never caring for yourselves; by thirty, you’re already talking about stomach ulcers. Sit down, there’s pea soup still hot and we’ll warm some tea. I’ve got plenty of jam. My husband’s been gone five years, and I still prepare everything for two. Let’s eat, then you can help me finish cleaning the window.”
“Margaret, could I do some other work instead? I’m dizzy and afraid of falling off the windowsill—I’m pregnant.”
“Even better! Just what I didn’t need. Are you married or not?”
“Why think the worst right away? Yes, married. Jim, also from my orphanage. But he’s been drafted into the military. He visited recently. Once my landlady found out I was expecting, she gave me a week to find somewhere else to live. We were living nearby. But as you can see—circumstances.”
“Circumstances indeed… So what should I do with you? Perhaps move my bed to Sandy’s room? Alright, fine, take my room. And don’t mention money, I won’t have it—just makes me angry. Go get your things.”
“It’s not far. All Jim’s and my things are in a bag by the entrance. The week’s up, and I’ve been going from house to house since morning.”
And so there were two of them… Mary was finishing her studies to be a dress designer. Margaret had been on disability for many years after a major train accident, which kept her at home where she knitted lace doilies, collars, and baby booties to sell at the local market. Her goods, with intricate, delicate designs, sold quickly. Money was not a problem at home. Some came from the sale of vegetables and fruits from the garden. They worked in the garden on Saturdays. On Sundays, Margaret went to church, while Mary stayed home, reading letters from Jim and replying to them. Mary was not used to church yet and complained about her back and dizziness.
One Saturday, while at the garden preparing the soil for winter, Mary would tire quickly, and Aunt Maggie would send her inside to rest and listen to old records bought years ago with her husband. And on this particular Saturday, after working with the rake, the soon-to-be mom lay down to relax. Margaret tossed dry leaves into the bonfire, lost in her thoughts, when suddenly she heard Mary call out: “Mum! Mum! Come quick!” Her heart pounding, she forgot about her aching legs and back and ran towards the house. Mary was clutching her stomach, screaming. Quick to react, Margaret convinced a neighbor to help, and they sped to the hospital as fast as the old car could muster. Mary kept groaning: “Mum, it hurts! But it’s too early, I’m not due till mid-January. Pray for me, you know how!” Margaret wept, praying continuously through her tears.
At the hospital, Mary was wheeled away, while the neighbor drove Margaret home, where she spent the night praying for mother and child. The next morning, she called the hospital.
“Your daughter’s doing fine. At first, she was crying for you and Jim, but eventually, she calmed down and fell asleep. The doctor says there’s no longer any risk of miscarriage, but she’ll need to stay with us for a couple of weeks, and her iron levels are low, so ensure she eats well and gets plenty of rest.”
When Mary was discharged, they spoke late into the night about Jim.
“He isn’t unwanted like me. He’s an orphan. We spent all those years in the same orphanage, friends since our school days, later falling in love. He’s protective, which is more than love. See how often he writes? Want to see his picture? He’s the second from the right, smiling…”
“Oh, he’s handsome,” Margaret didn’t want to upset Mary. She needed new glasses; the photo was full of soldiers, and the image was tiny. She could see only outlines. “Mary, I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you call me Mum in the garden?”
“Oh, that… Habit from the orphanage. We called everyone mum and dad there, even the plumber. I’ve mostly broken the habit but slip when nervous. Sorry.”
“I see…” Margaret sighed disappointedly.
“Aunt Maggie, tell me about yourself. Why don’t you have any pictures of your husband or kids around? No children?”
“No, no children. I had a son, but he died before he was a year old. After I became disabled, I couldn’t have any more. My husband was like a child to me. I spoiled him and adored him. He was the only one in the world for me, much like your Jim. When I buried him, I took down the photos. As a believer, I know he’s with God, but it was too hard without him. Looking at the photos just made me cry, so I put them away to resist temptation. He needs my prayers now, not my tears. You should ask Jim for a bigger photo; we can put it in a frame. I have some frames somewhere.”
On Christmas Eve, Margaret and Mary prepared for the holiday, decorating and discussing baby Jesus as they waited for the first star. Mary couldn’t sit still, rubbing her lower back.
“You seem restless, dear. You’re not listening to a word I’m saying. What’s going on?”
“Aunt Maggie, call the ambulance. I think it’s time.”
“Really, darling? Isn’t it due next week?”
“Must have miscalculated. Call quickly, please!”
Half an hour later, the ambulance reached the hospital. On the seventh of January, on Christmas Day, Mary gave birth to a girl. That very day, Margaret sent Jim a joyful telegram.
January was intense. The little one brought them joy and plenty of demanding days and nights. Mary, with Jim’s blessing, named the baby Maggie. Margaret was moved to tears. Little Maggie kept them busy with sleepless nights, minor ailments, and inexplicable crying spells, but they were happy challenges. Margaret even felt less burdened by her ailments.
…It was unusually warm for winter. Margaret took advantage of the nice weather and ran errands. On her way back, she met Mary with the stroller — the young mother was taking the baby for a walk.
“We’ll stroll a bit more, okay Aunt Maggie?”
“Enjoy, dear. I’ll start on lunch.”
Margaret glanced at the table upon entering and was surprised to see a photograph of her husband in a frame. She chuckled, “Found them after all. Chose one from his youth. Young folks aren’t interested in old faces.”
Just as the soup began to simmer enticingly on the stove, Mary brought little Maggie home with a neighbor boy helping with the stroller. The two women gently unwrapped the sleepy button-nosed baby, who was fast asleep. They tiptoed out to the living room.
“Mary,” Margaret smiled warmly, “how did you find those pictures of Sandy?”
“Not sure what you mean.”
“And this? You remember asking Jim for a larger photograph? He went to a studio specially. I found a frame on the bookshelf.”
With trembling hands, Margaret picked up the photo, finally noticing that it wasn’t her husband. The young sergeant was smiling cheerfully at the camera. Pale and dazed, Margaret sank into the sofa. When she turned towards Mary, she was crying, clutching a cotton ball soaked in smelling salts.
“Mum, look at me! Look into my eyes! What’s wrong, Mum?” Mary sobbed.
“Mary, open the wardrobe, there are photos on the top shelf. Bring them here.”
Mary brought down some albums and framed photographs. From the top one, Jim appeared to be looking right at them.
“Oh my goodness! Who is that? Is that Jim? No, this photo’s so old. Who is it, Mum?”
“That’s my husband, Sandy. Mary, darling, where was Jim born?”
“I don’t know. They brought him to our orphanage from London after a train accident. When he got older, they told him his parents had died.”
“Oh God, what a horrible mistake! My child, Micky! They showed me the body, and I identified him. His shirt was just like yours. The little face was gone. Micky, my boy, you’re alive! Your wife and daughter live with me, and I had no idea. Lord, you guided Mary to me. Sweetheart, hand me that photo.”
Confused, Mary didn’t know what was happening. She handed over the framed photo. Margaret kissed it, tears flowing. “Micky, my sunshine, my child!”
“Jim,” Mary corrected softly.
“Let him be Jim. But, Mary, dear, he’s my son! Look at the picture of his dad, they’re identical!”
Though the young woman was hesitant, Margaret pressed on.
“Mary, does Jim have a birthmark? Above his right elbow, shaped like a star? I identified the baby after all this time merely because the age and shirt were the same as Micky’s. But his arm was crushed, so I couldn’t find the birthmark. Why so silent? Is it there?”
“There is a birthmark. It’s star-shaped. Mum, darling, it’s there!”
Embraced, both women cried, ignoring little Maggie’s mewling for her mother’s breast in the next room.
