15April2025
Ill never forget the day the garden gave me two strangers. I was mixing a halfbatter for a scone when Stephens voice called, Martha, hurry! I slammed the bowl into the sourdough starter and fled to the front step. He was leaning against the old apple tree, and beside him were two tiny figures squatting among the carrot rows a boy and a girl, their clothes ragged, faces smeared with soil, eyes wide with fear.
Where did they come from? I whispered, moving closer. The girl reached up, clutching my coat, while the boy stayed close to her, his stare steady despite his trembling.
Stephen scratched his head. I was just watering the cabbages and they were there, as if theyd sprouted out of the ground.
I dropped to my knees. The girl immediately wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her cheek to my shoulder, smelling of earth and something sour. The boy watched me intently, not moving.
What are your names? I asked softly. No answer came, only a tighter grip and a soft whimper from the girl.
We ought to inform the parish council, Stephen said. Or the constable.
Hold on, I said, smoothing the girls tangled hair. First lets get them something to eat. Look how thin they are.
I ushered the girl inside; the boy hesitated at the doorway, then clutched the edge of my dress and followed. At the kitchen table I poured milk, sliced a loaf, and spread butter. They devoured it as if they hadnt eaten in days.
Perhaps a travelling troupe left them? Stephen guessed, watching them.
No, I replied, shaking my head. Streetchildren would be darkerskinned. These two are fairhaired and blueeyed.
After the meal they brightened. The boy smiled when I offered a second slice; the girl curled onto my lap and fell asleep, clutching my sweater.
Later that evening Constable Clarke arrived, inspected the children, and scribbled notes in his notebook.
Well spread the word through the villages, he said. Someone may have lost them. For now, let them stay with youtheres no space at the county reception centre.
We dont mind, I answered, holding the sleeping girl tighter. Stephen nodded. Wed been married a year, childless, and now we suddenly had two.
That night we set up a makeshift bed on the stoveside floor. The boy lay awake for a long while, watching me. When I extended my hand, he took my finger hesitantly.
Dont be frightened, I murmured. Youre not alone any more.
In the morning the girl woke, brushed my cheek gently and said, Mum?
My heart stopped. I lifted her into my arms. Yes, darling. Mum.
Fifteen years have flown since that moment. We named the girl Elsie; she grew into a slender beauty with long golden hair and skyblue eyes. Michael became a sturdy young man, just like Stephen. Both helped on the farm, excelled at school, and became everything to us.
Mum, I want to study at the city university, Elsie announced at dinner one evening. Im thinking medicine.
And Id like to go to the agricultural college, Michael added. Dad, you said its time to expand the farm.
Stephen ruffled Michaels shoulder. We never had biological children, yet we never regretted the ones we took inthey were ours in every sense.
The constable never found any parents. We formalised guardianship, then adoption. The children always knew the truth; we never kept secrets from them.
Remember my first attempt at baking a pie? Elsie laughed. I dropped the whole dough on the floor.
And you, Michael, were terrified of milking the cows, Stephen teased. You thought theyd eat you.
We laughed, trading memories of their first school day, Michaels fights with bullies who called him a foster kid, and the meeting with the headmaster that finally put an end to it all.
After the children were in bed, Stephen and I sat on the porch.
Theyve turned out well, he said, pulling me close.
My own, I replied.
The next day a sleek black car pulled up to the gate. A neatly dressed man and woman in their midforties stepped out.
Hello, the woman said, her smile tight. Were looking for our children. Fifteen years ago they disappearedtwins, a girl and a boy.
The words hit me like a cold splash of water. Stephen stood beside me, calm as ever.
And why are you here now? he asked.
The man produced a folder of papers. We were told you took them in. These are the documents. Theyre ours.
I examined the dates; they matched. Still, my heart felt a knot.
You kept silent for fifteen years, I said quietly. Where were you?
We searched, of course, the woman sighed. The children were with a nanny who had an accident; they vanished. Only now have we got a lead.
At that moment Elsie and Michael emerged from the house, frozen, eyes wide.
Mum, whats happening? Elsie whispered, clutching my hand.
The woman gasped, covering her mouth. Elsie! Its you! And this is Michael!
The children stared, bewildered.
Were your parents, the man blurted. Were home.
Home? Elsies voice trembled. Were already home.
The woman stepped forward. Were your blood family. We have a house near London and can help with the farm. Family is always better than strangers.
Anger rose inside me. You didnt look for them for fifteen years, and now that theyre grown and can work, you appear?
We filed a police report, the man began.
Stephen held out his hand. The man produced a certificate; the date was only a month old.
Thats a forgery, Stephen said. Wheres the original?
The man stammered, hiding the papers.
Michael interjected sharply. Sergeant Clarke checked. No reports exist.
Enough, boy! the man snapped. Youll come with us!
Were not going anywhere, Elsie said, standing beside me. These are our parentsour real ones.
The womans face flushed; she fished out her phone. Im calling the constable now. We have documents; blood is thicker than paper.
Call them, Stephen agreed, but dont forget to summon Sergeant Clarke. Hes kept the records all these years.
Within the hour the yard was crowded with the constable, the district investigator, and the parish council chair. Elsie and Michael sat with us, and I held them as tightly as I could.
We wont hand you over, I whispered, cradling my children. Never. Dont be afraid.
Were not afraid, Mum, Michael said, fists clenched. Let them try.
Stephen entered, his face grim. Fake, he said shortly. The paperwork is forged. The investigator saw the inconsistencies straight away. The dates dont line up. When the children arrived, those parents were in Brightontickets and photos prove it.
Why would they do that? Elsie asked.
Sergeant Clarke figured it out. Their farm was in debt, workers had quit. They wanted free labour, heard of us, and forged papers.
We stepped outside; the man was already being led into a police van. The woman screamed for a lawyer, for a trial.
Theyre our children! Youre hiding them! she shouted.
Elsie faced her. I found my parents fifteen years ago. They raised me, loved me, never left. Youre strangers trying to exploit us.
She stepped back, stunned.
When the police cars drove away, the four of us were left alone. Neighbours whispered, slowly dispersing.
Mum, Dad thank you for never giving us up, Michael embraced us.
Silly boy, I stroked his hair. How could we? Youre ours.
Elsie smiled through tears. I used to wonder what would happen if my real parents were found. Now I know it wouldnt change a thing. My real parents are you.
That evening we gathered around the same table as fifteen years ago, only now the children were adults. The love was the samewarm, steady, unmistakable.
Tell us again how you found us, Elsie asked.
I smiled and began anew, about two little ones in the garden, how they slipped into our home and hearts, and how a family was forged.
Later, little Billyour threeyearold grandsonran in, brandishing a crayon picture. Grandma, look what I drew! he shouted.
Lovely! I said, taking the paper. Is that our house?
Yes! And thats you, Granddad, Mum, Dad, Aunt Alice and Uncle Simon! he declared.
Elsie, now a doctor at the district hospital, entered, her belly round with her second child. Mum, Michael calledKatour sisterwill be here soon. Did you manage the pies?
Of course, I replied. Apple ones, just like you like.
Years have slipped by. Elsie graduated, returned home after city life felt cramped, married Simon, our reliable tractor driver. Michael finished agricultural college, now runs the farm with Stephen, married Kate, and they have little Billy.
Granddad! Billy shouted, slipping from my arms to race into the yard.
Stephen, his hair now silver, scooped Billy up and twirled him. What will you be when you grow up, Billy?
A tractor driver, like Dad and you! he declared.
We laughed, the circle completing itself.
Kate arrived with a pot of steaming borscht. Brought your favourite! she said.
Weve got news! she added, beaming.
Were having twins! Kate announced.
Elsie hugged them, Stephens smile widening. Our house will be full!
At dinner we all gathered around the large oak table Stephen and Michael built years ago. The story of the fake parents still circulates, a cautionary tale Sergeant Clarke tells the youngsters.
Dont get your wife all emotional now, Stephen muttered, but his eyes twinkled.
Uncle Michael, tell us again how you and Aunt Elsie were found! Billy demanded.
Again? Hes heard it a hundred times! Kate laughed.
Tell us! the boy insisted.
Michael began, and I watched the generationsmy children, my grandchildren, my husband, whose love deepens each year.
I once thought I could never have children. Life handed me a miracle, two strangers in the garden between carrot rows. Now our cottage is alive with laughter, voices, and the promise of new beginnings.
Grandma, will I ever find someone in the garden when I grow up? Billy asked.
We all laughed. Perhaps, I patted his head. The world is full of surprises. Keep your heart open, and love will find its way.
The sun set behind the old apple tree, painting its branches pinkjust as it was the day everything began. The tree grew, as did we, rooted in love. And I know this is not the end; many happy days lie ahead, new smiles, new stories. A true English family, alive and thriving.
