“Have a baby for me. You know I can’t have children…”
The first day of university began with a lecture. Ellen wandered the halls for ages before finding the right room. She’d barely taken a seat in the front row when the professor walked in. He introduced himself, outlining the year’s coursework, stressing that exam questions would come from his lectures—not the textbooks. “Best attend now,” he warned, “instead of scrambling online later.”
The door creaked open, and in walked a dazzling girl. Snickers rippled through the room. The professor turned sharply.
“Here for the lecture? Your name?”
“Vanessa Elizabeth Carrington,” she answered breezily.
“Consider this a warning, Vanessa. Next time, don’t be late—I don’t tolerate stragglers.” He scanned the hushed room. “That goes for everyone. I won’t repeat myself—ask a classmate. Sit. Now then—”
Vanessa tiptoed to the front row, her stilettos clicking softly. Ellen scooted aside.
“Hey. What’d I miss? He laying down the law?” Vanessa whispered.
“Shh, he’ll kick you out,” Ellen hissed.
They bonded during the break. Vanessa, from Surrey, commuted daily by train; today, she’d misjudged the time. Ellen, from Bristol, lived in student housing.
Vanessa was vibrant, carefree, barely cracking a book. She couldn’t fathom Ellen’s studiousness.
“What’s the difference between a first and a third? Just land a good husband—that’s the real degree,” Vanessa quipped.
“I promised my mum I’d do well. She raised me alone—dropped out of uni when she got pregnant. My dad vanished. I won’t repeat her mistakes.”
“Suit yourself. Just don’t wither away over textbooks. When do you *live*?”
“After graduation,” Ellen laughed.
Despite their differences, they became inseparable. Ellen attended every lecture, shared notes, covered for Vanessa’s absences. Vanessa danced, dated, lived wildly. Friends warned Ellen she was being used.
“So? Friendship’s never purely selfless. Everyone gets something,” Ellen shrugged.
By fourth year, Vanessa fell in love and nearly flunked out—until Ellen saved her. Then, just before finals, Vanessa got pregnant.
“Wanted an abortion, but Sebastian found out. So—wedding bells! You’re my witness, no arguments,” she declared.
They married in a raucous New Year’s ceremony. Vanessa gave birth to a boy before exams, staggering in exhausted. Lecturers pitied her with bare-minimum passes. Ellen graduated with first-class honours, ready to return to Bristol.
“Don’t be daft! With that degree, London’s yours. I’ll talk to Seb—his dad owns a firm. He’ll hire you.”
“Mum’s waiting—”
“She’ll understand. Earn some money, gain experience. You’ll have options. Seb’s got a single friend, by the way. Remember your ‘live a little’ promise? You’re staying.”
Ellen stayed. Sebastian’s father hired her, and she excelled. But her love life stalled.
Vanessa, now a mum, rarely had time to meet. Then came the call: “Come over. Now.”
Ellen rushed over. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant,” Vanessa muttered.
“Oh! I thought it was something awful. Congratulations!”
“Congrats? I just got free of nappies, was about to work—now another baby! Seb’s thrilled, but *I* never get a say.”
“Couldn’t you… prevent it?”
“Tried pills. Seb found them, went ballistic. He’s an only child—wants a big family. Buying a house and all. Men should try birthing *once*. He moans about work, then flees home like it’s a holiday. Think he’s cheating?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just busy. He loves you.”
Vanessa had another boy—and wept. “Now he wants a *girl*. What if it’s another boy? I’m not a broodmare!”
Her mother-in-law helped sporadically; her own mum, now retired, took the boys summers in Surrey.
Ellen, aching for a child, finally married Sebastian’s friend—more from societal pressure than passion. But motherhood eluded her. Tests revealed she’d never conceive. She grieved, then buried herself in work. Her husband refused adoption—then left her for another woman.
Meanwhile, Sebastian bought a house in Kensington. Ellen visited.
Vanessa proudly showed off her garden, the sprawling home. No more job talk—her mum lived with them now, helping with the kids.
Ellen fought envy until she saw the nursery: blue clouds, photos of grinning boys. Tears welled. She’d never know a child’s embrace, hear “Mum.”
“You’re so lucky,” she blurted.
“Lucky? Seb’s always abroad opening some Swedish venture. I’m alone, planting flowers out of boredom.” Vanessa sighed. “I’m pregnant again.”
“That’s wonderful!” Ellen forced cheer.
“*Wonderful*? I’ve barely lost the baby weight. If it’s another boy… Seb’ll leave me. I’m getting an abortion when he’s in Sweden.”
“You can’t mean that. What if he finds out?”
“He won’t. Don’t you dare tell him.”
Ellen paused. “When’s he leaving?”
“Two weeks. Why?”
Ellen steadied herself. “What if… you had the baby for *me*? You know I can’t. How far along?”
“Ten weeks.” Vanessa frowned.
“Ten…” Ellen murmured. “Come to Bristol with me this summer. Seb won’t return for months. We’ll figure it out. I’ll take the baby. You’ve taken so much—give me this.”
“Are you *mad*? Seb’ll know!”
“He doesn’t know you’re pregnant. Please.”
“No! You’re asking me to *give away my child*?”
“You were ready to end its life. This is better.”
“Never.”
Yet when Vanessa mentioned Bristol, Sebastian agreed instantly. “Go! I’ll be busy till autumn. Your mum needs a break too.”
Ellen’s plan worked. She’d have a child! Just pray Vanessa didn’t change her mind if it was a girl.
Her own mum disapproved but saw Ellen’s joy. Pregnancy suited Vanessa—her curves hid the bump. The kids loved Bristol’s freedom.
One day, Vanessa joined a berry-picking trip despite Ellen’s protests. “I’ve done this twice—I’m fine!”
That night, she went into early labour. The ambulance barely made it. A frail girl was born. Vanessa, indifferent, signed her over.
“Take her. She’ll probably be sickly anyway.”
Ellen visited daily. Vanessa returned to London, binding her breasts. The boys, too young to understand, were told “Mum ate something bad.”
The baby survived—sickly, but Ellen was elated. *Her* daughter, her purpose. She quit her job, moved to Bristol, devoted herself to little Sophie. Vanessa never called.
***
Fifteen years later
Under a sprawling oak in their modest garden, Ellen bustled with a teapot. Her burly husband chatted over tea while Sophie, now a teen, fidgeted in a sundress.
Through the fence, Vanessa watched, riveted by Sophie’s face. Then she pushed the gate open.
Ellen froze. “How—? Come in. This is my university friend—”
Vanessa barely heard her. “Mum, can I go to Lucy’s?” Sophie asked.
“Go,” Ellen said tightly.
Her husband excused himself tactfully.
“Why are you here?” Ellen hissed.
“I came for my daughter.”
“*Mine*. You abandoned her. Leave.”
“I’ve got no one left,” Vanessa choked. “My eldest lives in Sweden. My youngest died in a car crash. Seb left me. If you don’t—”
“You *have* no daughter.”
“Please. She looks just like me. Let her study in London. I won’t tell her the truth. Just… let me be near her.”
Ellen remembered her own desperate pleas years ago. She pulled Vanessa into a tearful hug.
Vanessa showered Sophie with gifts, gushed about London’s wonders. Sophie eyed her warily.
“I’m not going,” she told Ellen that night.
“Just visit. You can always come back.”
Departure day arrived. Vanessa glittered with excitement—until they realised Sophie had vanished. They found her curled in the shed.
Vanessa left alone. Ellen confessed to her husband.
“I wondered why you’d let her go. You saved that child.”
“Without Vanessa, she wouldn’t exist. We’re both her mothers. One birthed her; one raised her.”
Vanessa returned later, coaxing Sophie to London for uni. Sophie agreed—itching for freedom. EllenYears later, as Sophie cradled her own daughter under that same oak tree, she finally understood the quiet love that had shaped her life, and the three grandmothers who had all, in their own ways, given her everything.
