Mum, Dad, hello! You asked us to drop bywhats going on? Gwen and her husband Tom barged straight into the family flat.
Actually it all began a while ago. Mum had been ill, a serious illness in its second stage.
Shed finished a round of chemotherapy, then radiotherapy. She was in remission and a few strands of hair were daring to grow back. But it was still too early to get comfortable; things started to go downhill again.
Gwen, Tom, good evening, come in, said Helen, pale and skinny as a schoolgirl.
Kids, have a seat. We have an unusual request, so listen to Mum, George said, looking a little flustered.
Gwen and Tom plonked down on the sofa and stared at Helen expectantly. Helen sighed, glanced at her husband Barry as if searching for backup.
Gwen, Tom, dont be surprised, Ive got a rather odd favour to ask. In short were begging you.
Please adopt a boy for us, please! Were too old now, and there are other reasons.
A brief, heavy silence settled.
First to break it was their daughter:
Mum, youll be amazed, weve been meaning to tell you for ages but were scared. Tom and I really want a son, and we already have two daughtersyour granddaughters.
Theres no guarantee the third child will be a boy, but its not just that; Helens health isnt what it used to be.
Megan had a Csection. The doctors warned against another birth. We thought maybe we should adopt a little boy from a childrens home after all.
Bring a tiny, sweet lad into our family. And then you, Mum, say the same thing to us. Where did you get these ideas?
Gwen, I dont even know where to start, Helen said, nervously running a hand over the little hedgehogs sprouting hair, its just that Im feeling worse again.
Then my old work friend, Aunt Nancy, turned up. Remember her? She used to have a nasty mole hanging over her eye that almost closed it. They kept saying it had to go because it might turn nasty later. Yet here she is nowno mole, looking splendid.
Shed been chatting with Grandma Zena in a Cotswold village, and the two of them decided to drive over together. Zena helps people from all over, and I thought, what am I missing? So we went.
Gwen and Tom hung on Helens tale, breath held, but they couldnt quite follow where it was heading.
Right, dears, Helen continued, Grandma Zena asked me a strange question straight away: do I have a son?
When she heard I have one daughter, Gwen, and two beloved granddaughters, Mabel and Tilly, Grandma Zena kept pressingwhat about a daughter?
I was shocked, because nobody but George and I knew Id had a lateterm miscarriage. A boy was supposed to be ours, our first child, dear Gwen. He didnt survive, Helen twisted the edge of her Tshirt nervously.
And then? Gwen asked, eyes wide.
Then what Grandma Zena said: adopt a boy. I went back to the kitchen, tears spilling as if Id somehow failed to keep that first son alive.
Now I have to give warmth and love to another little lad, to restore the balance thats been tipped.
And you know what? I listened to my own heart and realised I truly want this. George and I can give a child warmth, love, everything he needs.
Not just for my own recovery. I simply have a clear wishto save at least one tiny life from orphanhood and loneliness. Do you get me?
Mum, I hear you and Im with you all the way, Gwen said, tears streaming, lets do it!
Gwen and Tom had already spoken to the childrens home manager about adopting a boy, and they were invited to meet the youngsters.
Helen and Barry, of course, came along. In the playroom, kids three and up were scattered over a carpet, laughing.
Mum, look at that ginger boy, hes just like you, gathering his little pyramid with such concentration he even sticks out his tongue, Gwen whispered, pointing at a toddler on the floor.
Helen liked him too. Then, from a corner, a faint voice drifted.
Helen turnedby the side of the room stood an older boy with sad eyes, murmuring something.
Could you say that a bit louder? I didnt catch it, Helen asked.
The boy shuffled forward and repeated, Auntie, please, take me. I promise youll never regret it. Take me
Gwen and Tom swiftly completed the paperwork and adopted the boy, naming him Michael. Mabel and Tilly were thrilled to have a little brother.
Michael settled in fast, calling Gwen Mum and Tom Dad. He spent many afternoons at Aunt Helens and Uncle Barrys house, which wasnt far from the school.
He oddly called Helen Mum Iren, a nickname that just stuck. She, holding her breath, stared at Michael and felt as if he were the son shed once lost.
At the doctors urging, Helen began a fresh round of treatment, but it barely eased her symptoms; she kept feeling worse.
Michael looked into her eyes, smoothing his short hair.
Mum Iren, why are you ill? I want you to get better!
I dont know, Michael, thats how it goes, but Ill try my best, I promise, Helen smiled at his affectionate Mum Iren.
Barry spoke to the surgeon, who insisted on an operation.
What are the odds? Barry asked.
The surgeon was blunt:
Fiftyfifty. Well do everything we can, and that could save her.
Barry and Helen decided to go ahead.
The day of the operation left everyone on edge. Gwen kept ringing Barry. He arranged with the surgeon to be kept informed, and Barry was a nervous wreck.
He couldnt immediately locate Michael. He found the boy in their bedroom, near Helens robe.
Michael hadnt heard Barrys entrance; he was on the floor, his face buried in Helens robe, crying and whispering,
Mum Iren, dont go, I dont want to lose you again, please! Stay with me forever, Mum!
The phone rang, startling both Barry and Michael.
The surgeons voice was tired, almost joyless, and Barrys heart thudded like a drum.
Is that all? Did Helen survive the operation?
Barry? This is Dr. Michael Thompson. The surgery was tough, but she pulled through. Your wife made it.
She was on a razorthin line, something Ive never witnessedlike a guardian angel hovering when her life seemed about to snap.
Congratulations, shes still with us, theres still a reason to keep going
Thank you, thank you, Doctor! Barry hugged Michael.
You get it, everythings fine. Mum Iren is alive! What luck youre here, little one.
Sorry, I overheard you asking about Mum Irenthanks, my dear boy!
