HEART OF ICE… Claudia Vincent returned home. She had been to the hair salon—as she does regularly despite her 68 years—always treating herself to visits with her stylist. Claudia spruced up her hair and nails on a routine basis, and these simple rituals lift her spirits and energy. “Claudia, a relative of yours came by,” her husband George informed her. “I told her you’d be home later. She said she’d pop back in.” “What relative? I’ve got no family left,” Claudia replied gruffly. “Probably some distant cousin, here to ask for something. You should have said I’d moved to the ends of the earth!” “Oh, don’t be like that,” George reassured her. “She looked like she belonged to your side—tall and stately, reminded me a bit of your late mother. I doubt she wants anything. Very well-spoken woman, dressed smartly.” Forty minutes later, the relative rang the bell. Claudia answered the door herself. The woman really did resemble her late mother, and looked very polished—expensive coat, boots, gloves, diamond studs. Claudia knew quality when she saw it. She invited the guest to join her at the already-set table. “Well, let’s make introductions if we’re family. I’m Claudia—no formality needed. We seem close in age. This is my husband George. What’s our connection?” she asked. The guest hesitated, then blushed slightly. “I’m Gail… Gail Watson. There isn’t much difference in age between us. I turned 50 on June 12th. Does that date mean anything to you?” Claudia paled. “I can see you remember. Yes—I am your daughter. Please don’t be upset; I don’t need anything from you. I just wanted to meet my birth mother. My whole life I never understood why my mum didn’t love me—she’s been gone eight years now. Why did only Dad ever love me? He died just two months ago—before he passed, he told me about you and asked you to forgive him, if you’re able,” Gail explained, her voice trembling. “What? You have a daughter?” George exclaimed, stunned. “Apparently I do. I’ll explain later,” Claudia replied. “So you’re my daughter? Wonderful—you’ve met me. But if you think I’ll beg forgiveness or show remorse, I won’t. I have nothing to be sorry for,” Claudia answered coldly. “I hope your father filled you in? If you expect me to show motherly feelings—forget it. Not even a spark. Sorry.” “May I visit again? I live nearby in the suburbs—we’ve got a big two-storey house. Why not come over with George? You’ll get used to the idea that I exist. I brought photos of your grandson and great-granddaughter if you’d like to see?” Gail asked timidly. “No. I’m not interested. Don’t come again. Forget about me. Goodbye,” Claudia cut her off sharply. George hailed Gail a taxi and walked her out. When he returned, Claudia had already cleared the table and was calmly watching TV. “You’re so steely! You could command armies. How is it you have no heart at all? I always suspected you were cold, but not to this extent,” George said sternly. “We met when I was 28, right? Well, my soul was trampled long before that,” Claudia replied. “I grew up in the country, desperate to escape to the city. That’s why I worked so hard, was top of my class, went to university—the only one from my village. At 17, I met Victor. Madly loved him. He was nearly 12 years older, but I didn’t care. City life felt magical after my poor childhood. My scholarship barely covered anything; I was always hungry, so I happily accepted his invitations for coffee or ice cream. He never promised anything, but I believed love would lead to marriage. The night he invited me to his cabin, I said yes. Afterwards, I thought I had him for good. Cabin trips became routine, and soon it was clear I was carrying his child. When I told Victor, he was delighted. Knowing my condition would show, I asked when we’d marry—I was 18, legally able to wed. “Did I ever promise you marriage?” he said. “I didn’t, and I won’t. Besides, I’m already married,” he answered calmly. “What about the baby? What about me?” “You’re healthy, strong—could have been a model student-athlete. You’ll take a break from university, hide it until it’s obvious, and after you give birth, my wife and I will take care of the baby. We can’t have children—maybe because my wife is much older. You’ll deliver, we’ll take the baby, and you’ll return to study. We’ll pay you, too.” Back then, no one had heard of surrogacy—but I guess I was the first surrogate mother. What else could I do—go home and shame my family? I lived at their house until the birth. Victor’s wife never spoke to me—maybe jealous. I delivered the baby girl at home, attended by a midwife. Didn’t nurse her; they took her away immediately. Never saw her again. A week later, they sent me off, Victor gave me cash. I went back to university, got a job at the factory, lived in the family hostel, worked my way up. Made friends, never married—until you came along. By then I was 28. I wasn’t keen, but felt I should. You know the rest—nice life with you, three cars, comfortable house, summer cottage. We holidayed every year. Our factory survived the ‘90s since our tractor equipment was unique. Still have barbed wire and watchtowers around it. We both retired early—life’s been good. No children, and that suited me fine. And looking at kids today…” Claudia finished her confession. “We didn’t have a good life. I loved you. I tried to warm your heart and never succeeded. No kids—and you never even took in a kitten or puppy. My sister asked for help with her daughter; you wouldn’t let her stay a week. Today your own daughter came—and how did you meet her? Your daughter! Your own flesh and blood. Honestly, if we were younger, I’d divorce you. Now it’s too late. It’s cold living next to you—so cold,” George said bitterly. Claudia was startled; he’d never spoken so harshly to her before. Her peaceful life disturbed, all because of this daughter. George moved to the cottage. For years now, he’s lived there—adopted three abandoned dogs, countless stray cats. Rarely comes home. Claudia knows he visits her daughter Gail, has met them all, adores the great-granddaughter. “He’s always been soft—a pushover. Let him live how he wants,” Claudia thinks. She never developed the urge to get to know her daughter, grandson, or great-granddaughter. Claudia travels to the coast alone. She relaxes, recharges, and feels absolutely fine.

Author Emily TaylorReading 7 minViews 1

WITHOUT A SOUL…

Claudia Green had just returned home, her hair freshly coiffed and her spirits lifted. At 68, she took great pride in regular visits to her favourite salonone of the last luxuries she steadfastly allowed herself. Claudia kept her hair neat, her nails tidy, and these modest rituals did wonders for her mood.

“Claudia, some relative of yours popped by,” her husband, George, informed her. “I told her youd be back later. She said shell come again.”

“Oh, another relative, is it?” Claudia grumbled. “Theres no one left. Must be some third cousin twice removedprobably wants something. You should have told her Id gone on a round-the-world cruise!”

“Really, darling, whats the harm?” George replied, ever the reasonable man. “She looked quite like your late mother, actually. Tall, elegant, nicely dressedI doubt shes here to ask anything. She seemed rather cultured.”

About forty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Claudia herself greeted her guest. Indeed, the woman bore a striking resemblance to Claudias mother, dressed perfectly in a smart coat, boots, gloves, and diamond earrings so tiny only an expert could spot their worthwhich, incidentally, Claudia was.

She invited the woman to join her at the set table.

“Lets get acquaintedsince were apparently relatives,” Claudia said, forgoing formalities. “Im Claudia, no need for Mrs Green. You look about my age. This is my husband, George. So, how exactly are we related?”

The woman hesitated, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Im Helen… Helen Watson. Theres not much between usin age, I mean. I turned fifty on the twelfth of June. Does that date ring any bells?”

Claudia went pale.

“I see youve remembered,” Helen continued quietly. “Yes, Im your daughter. Please, dont worryI dont need anything from you. I just wanted to see my mother, the one I never knew. All my life I couldnt fathom why my mum didnt love meby the way, shes been gone eight years. Why did only Dad care for me? He passed just recently, only two months ago. He told me about you at the end, asked if you could forgive him,” Helen said, her voice trembling.

“Whats going on? You have a daughter?” George spluttered.

“Apparently, yes. Ill explain later,” Claudia replied briskly.

“So, youre my daughter? Well, youve seen me. If youre expecting me to tearfully beg forgiveness, I wont. Im blameless here,” Claudia answered, her tone unwavering. “I trust your father explained everything? If you think this will unlock some maternal feelings in me, it wont. Not a bit. Sorry.”

“May I visit again?” Helen ventured gently. “I live nearby, a big house in the suburbsyou and George could come too. Maybe youll get used to the idea. Ive brought pictures of your grandson and great-granddaughter. Would you like to see?”

“No. I dont want to. Dont come back, forget about me. Goodbye,” Claudia answered sharply.

George called Helen a cab and saw her out. By the time he returned, Claudia had cleared the table and was calmly watching the telly.

“You really are made of stone,” George remarked. “Youd make a fine general, but dont you have any heart at all? I always thought you were tough and unsentimental, but this this is something else.”

Claudia shrugged. “We met when I was 28, didnt we? Well, dear George, any soul I had was wrung out years before.

I was a country girl, always dreaming of escaping to the city. Thats why I studied so hard and got into universitythe only one from my class. When I was 17, I met Bill. I adored him. He was almost twelve years older, but I didnt mind. After a childhood of scraping by, city life felt like a fairytale. My grant barely covered anything; I was always hungry, so Bills invitations to tea or the ice cream parlour were a delight.

Bill never made promises, but I was sure our romance meant marriage.

One night, he invited me to his cottage. I went, sure Id tied him to me after that. Meetings there became routine. Soon enough, it was clear I was expecting.

I told Bill. He was overjoyed. As my condition became obvious, I asked him directly: Whens the wedding? Id turned eighteen; the registry office wouldnt turn us away.

“Did I ever promise to marry you?” Bill replied coolly.

“No promises, and Im not marrying you. Im already married” he said just as calmly.

“But what about the child? About me?”

“Youre young, fitcould be made into a statue for the Thames,” he said with a grin. “Take a year off from uni. While its not noticeable, keep studying; then youll come live with me and my wife. Weve struggled to have children. Maybe my wifes too old for it. When the baby is born, well take it. The paperwork isnt your concern. Im not without influence around here, and my wife heads a hospital department. So dont fret about the child. After your recovery, back to university. Well even pay you.”

Back then, no oned heard of surrogate motherhood. Seems I was the original. Well, what could I do? Go home, shame my family?

I lived at their big house till the birth. Bills wife never spoke to meperhaps she was jealous. I gave birth at home, with a proper midwife. Never nursed my daughter; they carried her off at once. Never saw her again. A week later, I was politely sent on my way, Bill pressed some cash into my hand.

Back at uni, then on to the factory. Got a room in the married quarters. Worked my way up to senior supervisor on quality control.

Had plenty of mates, but no one ever proposeduntil you came along. At 28, I wasnt keen on marriage, but it seemed required.

The rest, you know. Weve had a good lifethree cars, all mod cons, a well-kept country house. Holidays every year. Our factory survived the ’90s by making tractor parts no one else even knew about, still ringed by barbed wire and watchtowers.

Retired early, plenty to our name. No kids, thankfully. The way children are these days” Claudia finished, a dry smile on her lips.

“Its not been as good as you think,” George replied, wounded. “I tried so hard to thaw your heart but never could. No kids, fair enough, but you never took in a kitten or a stray pupnot even once. When my sister asked for help with her niece, you wouldnt even let her stay for a week.

Today, your daughter cameand how did you greet her? Your own flesh and blood! Really, if we were younger, Id be asking for a divorce; but now its a bit late. Its cold living with you, Claudia. Just cold.”

Claudia was rattled; George had never spoken to her quite like that before.

Her peaceful existence had been disrupted by this daughter.

George moved out to their country house. Hes lived there ever since, surrounded by three dogsrescued straysand who knows how many cats.

Hes rarely at home. Claudia knows he visits her daughter Helen, is acquainted with everyone there, and dotes on the great-granddaughter.

“Hes always been soft as butter, still is. Let him get on with it,” Claudia thinks.

Shes never felt the urge to get to know her daughter, grandson, or great-granddaughter.

Instead, she holidayed alone at the seaside. She relaxes, recharges, and feels utterly splendid.

“I Don’t Want a Paralyzed Daughter…” said the Daughter-in-Law and Walked Away. But She Had No Idea What Would Happen Next… In a small English village lived an ordinary old man, Denis. On weekends, he’d enjoy a little tipple and daydream about finally getting himself a purebred English Mastiff. He longed for a loyal companion and would even travel as far as Surrey just to bring one home. Denis’s beloved wife, Claudia, had passed away years before. Though doctors warned her never to have children, she gave birth to their son and became very ill. Denis doted on Claudia, taking care of everything—he wouldn’t even let her carry the milk from the shop. The village women envied her, and Denis became the talk of the town. Claudia left this world with a gentle smile. After her passing, Denis raised his son alone. When his boy married and settled in another city, Denis found himself completely on his own—except he loved chatting with the local youth outside his cottage. His son eventually had a daughter, but Denis only saw his granddaughter in photographs—the family was always too busy to visit. Then one gloomy day, the villagers noticed Denis wasn’t himself. He’d received a telegram: his family had been in a car crash. The granddaughter was in a coma, and his son had died. No word from the daughter-in-law; she didn’t write, answer calls, or respond to messages. Denis’s heart ached for news—and for his granddaughter, who looked just like Claudia in her youth. Just before he planned to travel to the city, a car pulled into his driveway. Out stepped his daughter-in-law, carrying the paralyzed granddaughter on a stretcher. “She’s paralyzed from head to toe. I don’t want a child like this. I’m still young; I can remarry and have a healthy baby!” she announced, slamming the door behind her. Denis retorted, “But I’m not a carer!” “You don’t need a doctor—she needs a nurse. If you won’t care for her, bury her alive! I’m not going to ruin my life. I’m not her nurse!” With that, she left for good. Now Denis understood why his son never visited—no one could travel comfortably with such a heartless wife. Left alone with his paralyzed granddaughter, Denis dedicated himself to her recovery, using remedies from a distant herbalist. For over a year, the girl lay motionless, unable to speak or move. On somber evenings, Denis would notice tears on her cheeks, thinking she missed her parents. He read to her and talked, but all she could do was moan. One night, a rowdy group of drunk young men burst into the cottage. The door was left unlocked, and they taunted Denis, knowing the girl was helpless. “Oi, old man! Lift off her blanket—let’s have some fun!” barked the ringleader. “Have mercy! She’s only 15!” pleaded Denis. Feigning calm, Denis said, “Let me just brush my teeth,” and dashed to the kitchen, pulled open the cellar hatch, and shouted, “Get ‘em!” From the cellar sprang Denis’s massive English Mastiff—Max—who tore into the gang, nipping trousers and chasing them down the village lane, their bare backsides on display to peals of laughter. Max leapt through the window in hot pursuit, scaring them right out of town. Returning to the bedroom, Denis saw his granddaughter sitting upright for the first time, shouting out the window: “Max! Max! Quick, Grandpa, grab him so he doesn’t run away!” Denis wept with joy. From that night on, the girl started to recover—soon she was walking and chatting non-stop. Was it the herbal remedies or the shock of the night? No one could say. And where did Max come from? He’d been left behind by the cruel daughter-in-law, who abandoned not just her daughter, but also the dog. Denis found him by the garden gate—thin, exhausted, and crying real tears. He took him in without a second thought. From then on, Denis, his granddaughter, and Max lived together in happiness. They never heard from the girl’s mother again.