My mother is a friend of a married man, the one who fathers me. Since I can remember, we never have a permanent home; we drift from flat to flat, always renting. When I am five, my mother meets another man and decides she wants to be with him, but he tells her he will only take her if she is on her own. She swaps me for the man, brings me to my biological father, hands over all the necessary papers, rings the doorbell of his flat, hears the lock click and runs away, leaving me standing on the doorstep.
My father opens the door, his eyes widen at the sight of me, and he instantly knows who I am. He lets me inside. His wife, Margaret, welcomes me warmly, as do their children Emily and Tom. At first my father says he will send me to a childrens home, but Margaret stops him, insisting that I am innocent of any blame. She is a saintly woman.
For a while I wait for my birth mother, convinced she will return any moment, then I stop waiting and begin calling Margaret Mum. My biological father never feels any warmth toward any of his children, especially me. He sees me as an extra mouth to feed, yet he continues to provide for me just as he does for the rest of the family. He is a tyrant. When he comes home we lock ourselves in the nursery, trying not to be seen. Margaret cannot leave him; he would never hand over the children to her out of principle. She endures his rages, learns to avoid him, and when necessary she diffuses his anger, shielding us from his shouting. The house remains quiet; we know his schedule and never set him off. We need nothing, and our Mum gives us love and affection for both of us.
A doctor from Manchester shares a trick that restores perfect eyesight.
When he finally leaves for yet another young lover, we all let out a sigh of relief. By now we are almost adults. My sister and brother finish their Alevels, and because we are the same age I also prepare for my exams. The three of us help each other with subjects, each dreaming of a place at a prestigious university. Though my father is unaffectionate, he promises to pay the tuition fees and keeps his word. We gain places, graduate, and secure the careers we have longed for.
Then our father dies, leaving a sizeable inheritance worth several hundred thousand pounds. His last lover receives nothing she never managed to marry him. We become the rightful owners of his firm and his bank accounts.
We continue to grow the business, and the moment arrives when we must travel abroad to open a new branch. We decide that I will head that branch. I suggest taking our Mum, Eleanor, with us she deserves to move to a warm country. My sister and brother support the idea.
As we are about to depart, my birth mother appears. I recognise her instantly; my childhood memory has kept her image vivid. She suddenly remembers me, seeing that I am leaving:
Son, I am your real mother! Have you forgotten me? Youve grown into a man. Ive missed you terribly and wondered how you live. Lets finally be together!
I am stunned by her audacity and reply:
Of course I remember you I remember you fleeing the door, leaving me a baby. You are not my mother. My Mum is leaving with me, and I dont even want to know you. I turn and walk away, feeling no regret.
Eleanor the woman who never feared taking her husbands child from another woman and who raised me with love sat with me when I was ill, was there when my first heartbreak shattered me, soothed me after fights with friends, taught me, forgave my mischief, endured my teenage moods, and never reminded me that I wasnt her blood relative. To her I am a son; to me she is a mother. I have no other.
We move abroad together. There I meet my future wife, Grace; Eleanor likes her instantly, and they get along famously. My mother does not interfere with my personal life; instead she finds a kind man for herself. She deserves happiness. Now she travels frequently, often visiting her children and grandchildren. I look into her joyful eyes and understand that I am grateful she is in my life. She is my guardian angel.
