No kin came to meet the new mother at the maternity ward, for Margaret had not turned away her child. The bright, airy hall of the Birmingham Maternity Hospital was packed. Joy mingled with a nervous flutter in the air. Around it buzzed happy relatives: eager men bearing towering bouquets, freshly crowned grandmothers and grandfathers, and scores of acquaintances and friends. The constant hum of voices was punctuated by infectious laughter. All held their breath, awaiting the first glimpse of the newest members of their families.
Look, weve had a boy! Our first! whispered a very young grandmother to the woman standing beside her. Tears of delight glimmered in her eyes as she clutched a bundle of skyblue balloons.
And weve got a girltwo of them at once, can you imagine! declared her companion, her arms swathed in soft pink gift parcels.
They already have an older daughter. That makes three sistersjust like a storybook!
Twins! How rare! Congratulations!
Amid the bustle, no one noticed a petite girl struggling to push open the heavy doors. Her hands were full of parcels, brimming to the brim.
What is that a baby? gasped James, a young lad who had come to fetch his sisters nephew, his eyes wide with disbelief. Could it really be that a tiny, swaddled bundle lay pressed against the womans forearm, its weight barely visible?
How could this be? James muttered, bewildered. Where are her relatives? Where are the friends? In a city as big as this, surely someone would be waiting with a young mother and such a defenseless child. How is it possible?
His family had spent months preparing for the arrival of his sisters baby, planning the discharge with painstaking care, as the event was deemed a moment of great joy and significance. James could not fathom that any other outcome might be acceptable.
He hurried to the strangers aid, swinging the massive doors wide and holding them steady while she slipped through, then following close behind.
Allow me to carry your packages to the taxi, he offered.
Thank you, but it isnt necessary, she smiled, a trace of sorrow and confusion flickering in her gaze, as if tears were about to spill. She settled the infant more comfortably against herself and headed for the bus stop.
Is she really going to catch a bus with a newborn? James thought, horrified. He was about to chase after her, suggest a ride in his own car, when his relatives called, reminding him of the discharge paperwork with his nephew. Forgetting everything else, James rushed back to his own duties.
Harriet had always striven to be the perfect daughter. Her mother, Margaret, had given birth to her late in life; her father was a shadow she never saw, rumored to be the fleeting result of a seaside fling. The two of them lived in a cramped cottage on the edge of a small village. From a young age Harriet helped her mother with chores, excelled at school, and obeyed without question. Their modest income came from Margarets job as a shop assistant in the local grocer, barely enough for any indulgence. When Margaret finally retired, their finances grew even tighter.
Harriet longed to grow up quickly, to gain an education, and to find a respectable, wellpaid jobso that their little family would never know hunger again, so she wouldnt have to decide between a packet of oats or a small cut of meat with the last of her money. Determined, she devoted herself entirely to her studies, taking extra lessons whenever she could. While her peers chased dates, cinema outings, and dances, Harriet sat over textbooks, repeatedly turning down Fredericks shy invitations to stroll.
Come out for a walk! The weather is lovely, and youre turning pale, buried in those books! her mother urged. Take a break, dear!
Its exam season. I must secure top marks; this is my only chance, my chance for us both! Harriet replied.
Frederick, who had loved Harriet since primary school, drifted alone, his attempts to win her affection forever rebuffed. Yet Harriets hard work bore fruit. She aced all her exams and earned a place at the prestigious City College of Education. Her happiness seemed limitless, though her mother grew anxious.
Where will you live? How will you manage? I cant support you financially; you know how little I earn.
Dont worry, Harriet soothed. Ive already looked at evening jobs, checked the notice boards. The college offers a hall of residence; Ive spoken with them and will have a room.
Everything fell into place as Harriet imagined. She moved into the hall, sharing a room with another country girl. Their flatmate often shared food supplied generously by her own relatives, and Harriet repaid the kindness by helping with essays and reports.
A modest candle, longlasting gel type, cost £1.80.
Harriet soon found work, not as a cleaner but as a waitress in the nearby tavern, balancing trays and flashing a welcoming smile. It was there she first met Matthew, a regular patron. Harriet was then in her penultimate year, only a few months from graduation. Matthew, young and handsome, visited the tavern most weekends with his mates, laughter filling the air. His cheeky dimples appeared whenever he smiled. One evening his gaze met hers; she blinked away, flustered, and from that moment Matthew gave her special attention.
They began seeing each other. Matthew proved attentive, caring, bright, and perpetually cheerful. He had finished university two years earlier and worked as an economist for a large bank, his career on a swift upward trajectory.
Harriet soon received an invitation to move into Matthews spacious twobedroom flat not far from his office. To her surprise, Matthew welcomed the news of her pregnancy with delight.
I was just about to propose! And now this, he laughed. Well need to hurry so youre the slim bride, not a heavybodied mothertobethough I love you any which way.
Harriet fretted about meeting Matthews parents. His father was a prominent businessman, owner of a dairy processing plant; his mother assisted him in the enterprise. She wondered how they would receive a modest village girl, especially an expectant one.
Their fears proved unfounded. Matthews family had long embraced a prospective daughterinlaw. His parents praised Harriet, admiring the neatness of her flat and the love she put into a dinner she prepared.
This is as good as any fivestar restaurant! Matthews father declared. The salad is simply superb!
You have golden hands! his mother added.
She asked Harriet to call her simply Eleanor. Together they began wedding preparations. Eleanor took the future daughterinlaw to upscale boutiques, and between fittings they lingered in cafés, chatting and laughing. Eleanors demeanor was warm and sincere, far from the haughty aristocrat Harriet had imagined. Harriet felt no awkwardness despite the social gap.
Will your mother come to the wedding? Wed love to meet her. She can stay with us if she wishesour house is large, yours must be cramped, Eleanor said, sharing her plans.
The wedding was grand, full of guests, a master of ceremonies, entertainers, and fireworks. Harriet tried not to dwell on the expense. When she voiced her concern to Eleanor, the latter waved it off.
Dont worry, we can afford it! Youre my sons wife; I want you to have a proper celebration. Rest easy; worrying now will only harm you.
Harriet could hardly believe her good fortune. She had heard countless tales of strained motherinlaw relationships, especially when the bride came from humble means, yet hers unfolded differently.
My dear, youre lucky! her elderly mother, Margaret, whispered, tears brimming as she arrived at the ceremony. Though the splendor made her uneasy, Eleanor kept the mood light, joking and thanking Harriet for such a wonderful daughter.
Life settled into the waiting period before the babys arrival. At the first ultrasound, the doctor announced a healthy girl. Looks like well have a girl after all, Matthew grinned, dreaming of an heir.
Eleanor was overjoyed. As a mother of two sons, she had long hoped for a daughter; now she would be a grandmother. She bought a pile of pink dresses and tiny outfits. Harriet gazed at them, imagining the day she would dress her child, hoping the little girl would grow up in love and a complete family. Eleanor already planned ballet lessons, art school, and earlydevelopment classes.
Harent accepted all the plans with enthusiasm. But at a routine checkup a danger to the pregnancy emerged. A battle to save the child began, and Matthew called in the best doctors.
Harriet felt dreadful. Nausea plagued her, she lost weight, and the second trimester brought more misery than relief. She spent days in hospitals while Eleanor tended to her at homecooking, cleaning, even scolding Matthew for his inactivity. Harriet was grateful; she truly could do nothing else.
Meanwhile, Matthew drifted further away, absorbed in work, friends, and his phone. Harriet spoke only of tests, procedures, and anxieties, which bored him. He longed for a son but now had a pregnant wife confined to bed, and a charming student had begun to appear in his thoughts.
He kept the new romance secret from his parents, fearing their reaction. Eleanor, ever the hopeful future grandmother, never hid that she wanted a granddaughter, not another grandson.
Harriets waters broke a month early. She was rushed to labour. The pain was unbearable; the doctors did all they could, then called for prayers. Summoning her remaining strength, Harriet fought for her daughter.
The baby girl was born, but the nurses whisked her away, whispering among themselves. Harriet realised something terrible had happened. She was left alone in a barren ward, sleepless, too afraid to call anyone.
In the morning the chief consultant delivered the grim news: the child had Down syndromea condition the ultrasound had missed. Youre still young; youll have a healthy child later. It would be best to place this one in a care home.
Harriet was stunned but refused outright. She demanded her daughter be returned to her arms. She named the child Althea.
Eleanor called. I know everything, she said, voice trembling. Well get through this. Thank you, Harriet replied. Ive found a good therapist wholl help you forget this child. Youll have another. What? Althea is alive! You dont understand Well have to lie, say the baby died. No, Harriet snapped, hanging up.
Matthew also balked at taking the child away. Why should a mother give up her baby while the father doesnt? he protested. Im still young; why this burden? Eleanor pressed repeatedly, eventually issuing an ultimatum: either consent or Althea would have no place in their family.
Harriet realized she would remain alone with her daughter. Her last hope was that, upon seeing Althea, Matthew might change. Yet no one waited for her at discharge. She trudged to the bus stop, bundles in hand.
At home she found the strangers coat in the hallway. A girl in a Maxs Tshirt emerged from the kitchen. Who are you? she asked. Your lovers wife, Harriet answered, gathering her things.
Althea lay in a cradle beneath a canopy, surrounded by costly gifts Eleanor had bought, yet no one else seemed to need heronly Harriet.
Harriet and Althea moved in with Margaret. Despite the turmoil, Harriet gathered herself and cared for her daughter. Althea grew kind and artistic, defying expectations by speaking and reciting poetry at a young age.
Harriet later married Frederick, a former classmate who had always loved her. He embraced Althea as his own. Together they had two sons. Harriet never felt ashamed of Althea; she started a blog, sharing their life.
One day a director from a London theatre for actors with Down syndrome saw a video of Altheas poems and invited her to audition. She became an actress, and the family relocated to the capital, even bringing Margaret along.
When Althea turned seventeen, Matthew attended one of her performances, bearing flowers, gifts, and a bottle of wine, seeking forgiveness. Harriet realised she had long since forgiven him.
Its all right, Matthew. I hold no grudge. Live happily, and thank you for the wonderful daughter you helped bring into this world.
