Seventh of July! That cant be rightmust just be a coincidence. But the name Andrew too. The surname and patronymic are different. Then again, adoptive parents can change those. Even the first name She stared at the mans portrait for a long time, as if hoping to spot something familiar.
The woman in the HR department of the city council finished processing the paperwork for the new employee, then picked up the phone.
Inna Andreyevna, could you pop in? Your new cleaners here.
Soon enough, the facilities manager walked in and immediately addressed the older woman.
Youre the new cleaner?
Yes!
Im the head caretakerInna Andreyevna, she introduced herself, then asked bluntly, And you?
Vera, the woman said, catching the silent prompt in her bosss eyes and correcting herself. Vera Alexeyevna.
Come on, Ill show you your workspace. They stepped out, chatting as they walked. Youll be responsible for the entire third floor
***
Vera was over the moon about the job. Smiling to herself, she took in her new domain.
Only two years till retirement. And I could even stay on after. Eight hundred quid a month, plus bonuses. At least Dimitri and I can live comfortably. The kids are grown and gone. Oh, I dont even know the mayors name! How embarrassing if someone asks. Lunch soontheres a display downstairs with all the mayors photos. Howd I miss that?
***
On her way back from the canteen, she passed the display and read the mayors name: *Andrew Borisovich born 1983.*
Oh, hes young. Not even forty yet, Vera thought, then suddenly froze. *Andrew? 1983.*
She turned back, checking the birth date.
*Seventh of July! That cant be! Just a coincidence. But the name Andrew too. Different surname and patronymic. Adoptive parents can change those. Even the first name*
She stared at the mans portrait for a long time, as if hoping to spot something familiar.
***
The new job kept her busy, pushing stray thoughts aside.
That evening, she talked for hours with her husband. Eventually, he went to his room to watch football, and Vera retreated to hers.
Their three-bed flat felt spacious now the kids had moved out. Dimitri still slept with her sometimes, but less and less.
Now, lying alone, her mind wandered back to her youthand the secret shed never shared with her husband.
Shed had a son before Dimitri. His name was Andrew. Shed been just nineteenno money, no job, stuck in a student dorm never meant for a baby. Shed lasted six months before giving him up.
Three years later, she married Dimitri. Theyd never pried into each others pasts. Soon, their own children cametwo daughters.
The girls grew up. One went to uni, married, had kids in school. The other moved to London after her wedding.
Vera never got a proper career. Shed spent twenty years as a caretaker at a factory before it went under. Then a friends daughter suggested this cleaning job at the town hall.
And now *Mayor Andrew Borisovich, born 1983.*
No, Vera didnt regret her life. But shed never forgotten her son. Hed even appeared in dreams. She just wanted to know if this was himif he was alright.
***
Days passed.
Vera was cleaning her floor when voices echoed down the hall. Mayor Andrew Borisovich walked past, deep in conversation. Spotting her, he nodded and kept going.
Suddenly, she saw *him*the boy shed loved forty years ago. Handsome, carefree. Shed always wished hed be serious, ambitiousbut never imagined it. Now, looking at Andrew Borisovich, she realised: *this* was how shed wanted him to turn out.
But that boy had vanished the moment he learned she was pregnant, saying hed find work abroad. Shed waited, hopedthen understood hed just run.
*Is Andrew Borisovich my son? If I hadnt given him up, he wouldnt be mayor. But my daughters are happymarried, settled. I have them but not him.*
*Would I even have married Dimitri? No, everything wouldve been differentfor me, for him, for Andrew. Unless maybe its not him. Coincidences happen.*
*Does it matter? He has parentshe was only six months old. Theyve probably never told him. Different surname, different life. And hes done wellnot every lad becomes mayor.*
***
After lunch, her young colleague Emma approached.
Hey, Auntie Vera!
Hello, love.
Were celebrating Lucys birthday Fridayshe cleans the sixth floor. Turning forty-five. You in?
Course! Vera smiled.
Twenty quid each, and bring something fancya salad or whatever.
Right. Vera fished out the money.
We do everyones milestones.
Emma, just Veras fine. Were colleagues.
Sure, Vera!
***
Friday evening, they gathered in an empty office. The table was laid.
The usual office party followedspeeches, sips of wine after each toast.
Then the door opened.
Andrew Borisovich walked in, smiling. Lucy Olegovna, happy birthday! He handed her a small box. A little something.
Thank you! Lucys eyes welled up.
Stay with us! the caretaker urged.
Just a minute. He satright beside Vera.
She piled his plate with salad and cold cuts. Wine was poured. Another toast.
Vera watched him, heart trembling. *This was her son. She knew it now.*
***
He left after twenty minutes.
What a man, sighed Katy, the office veteran. The old mayor wouldnt have given us the time of day.
How longs he been here? Vera asked.
A year. Remember last election?
Honestly, Vera didnt. Dimitri handled all that.
His folks are loaded, proper posh, Katy added. But guess what? Not his real parents.
What? Lucy gasped.
Came out during the campaign. Rumor is, *he* didnt even know. Didnt faze him, though.
How dyou know all this?
The old mayors deputyOlga Pavlovnadug up dirt to keep her boss in power. Didnt work, did it?
So he still doesnt know who his real parents are? Vera pressed.
Doesnt seem to. Loves the ones who raised him. Decent bloke, our mayor.
Vera stared at the door hed left through, heart aching. Happy hed done well. Sad she could never hold him. *Her fault.* She smiled faintly, whispering in her mind:
*I wont bother you, son. Ill just stay close.*
