Anothers Happiness
Emma was kneeling in the damp earth of her allotment, the soft blush of early spring coaxing the daffodils and crocuses into trembling life. Odd, really, the end of March, and the frost had already retreated without so much as a farewell. Everyone knew chilly gusts would come slinking back, but for now, the suns rare warmth pulled Emma outdoors, lifting her from the gloom and beckoning her to steady the tilting fence and mend her decrepit woodshed. She pictured chickens clucking round the back, a piglet nosing about the yard, a friendly spaniel wagging in the lane, maybe a ginger tomcat curled upon the doorstep. Time enough for all that, she thought with a wry smile. Enough roaming, enough longingnow there was plenty to do right here.
She yearned to break open the vegetable beds, inhaling the earths fresh, loamy breath the way she had as a barefoot child, toes squelching in the newly turned soilwarm, yielding, soft as clouds. Well have more days yet, Emma declared to no one but the robin on the post.
Hello?
Emma started. By the creaking garden gate stood a girl, barely more than a child, swaddled in a thin grey macone of those issued at local colleges, Emma knewher shoes brittle, the pale tights stretched over knees not made for the English chill. Too nippy by far for such dainty tights, Emma thought; shell end up ill, shoes like that with cardboard soles, useless things.
The girl shuffled, elbows tight against her sides. Hello, Emma called, crisp as dried leaves.
Sorry, butcould I use your loo?
Oh, wellyes, go on then. Straight through, left at the back.
Emma watched the girl dart past, half-child, half-woman. Thank you! Youve saved me. Im searching for a roomwouldnt have one to let, would you?
Wasnt planning on it. What do you want with a room?
Want to escape the hostel. Too many lads larking aboutnothing but boozing and fags.
Really? And what could you pay?
Fiver I havent more than that.
Come inside then, go on.
Sorrycan I dash to the loo again?
Go on, then.
Whats your name? Emma asked, leading her in.
Maisie, the girl squeaked, mouse-like.
So, Maisie. Why are you here?
I I justneed a room
Dont play daft with me, Maisie. Why?
May Iloo again?
Whats the matter with you, girl?
Maisies voice trembled through tears. I cant hold it in.
Off you go, then.
Emma followed after the girl. Just a nervous bladder, is it? Or?
Maisie shook her head. Hurtsjust hurts
Well sort it in a bit. Nowout with it. Why did you come?
Maisie faltered, silent, weighing her courage.
Well? Emma waited. If its to pinch something, Ive nothing to steal. Who sent you?
No one, just me. Are you Emma Rose Carter?
Thats me, Emma said.
Youyou didnt recognise me, did you? Mum? Its meMaisie. Your daughter.
Emmas body was suddenly wooden, her weathered face betraying nothing, not a twitch, not a sigh.
Maisie she whispered, my girl my Maisie
Yes, Mum, yes! Im here! The childrens home wouldnt let me have your address, you seesaid it wasnt allowed. But Miss Thomas, my dear teacher at college, she helped, did the official stuff, tracked down your name and address for meand, well, now Im here.
Emma sat stiff, the tears rolling unnoticed down her cheeks.
Maisie, oh my Maisie my little girl
Mum, oh Mum and Maisie flung herself at Emmas neck with a cry, like a bird finding its nest, I looked for you for so long, wrote you letters, but the others just laughedsaid youd given me up like an old slipper, said you never wanted mebut I never believed it, Mum, never
Emma gathered the sobbing girl in her hardened arms, hands raw with years of work, grasping at the chunky knitted cardigan her daughter woreMaisie, her daughter, her own, her Maisie.
They sat together for an age, lost for words, for none were needed.
Later, Emma would flutter about, harking back to her grandmothers old curesheating water for tea, steaming Maisie with chamomile from the garden, fussing over her girl, her darling, her pride.
Maisie, the shining reason for living. There was purpose nowsomething sent down, a gift not lost. The plot of earth, the piglet, fresh lining in an old coatplenty stowed away for a rainy day. Emma had thought her life spent, and here was light, here was Maisie.
***
Mum.
What, love?
Mummy
Out with it, honeybee.
Maisie nibbled a homemade pie, cheeks now plump and pink from Emmas loving fuss. Emma had kitted her out like a princess, and even found herself looking younger.
Mummyyy
Come on, whats the matter now?
Mum, Im in love!
Well, well, Emma laughed.
Hes wonderful, Mum, his names Jackhe wants to meet you
Oh Emma felt the happiness slip awaya strange thing, when blessings come and go. One day handed, the next taken.
Mum, whats wrong?
Its nothing, my love, youve blossomed so fastI havent had nearly enough time, forgive your old mum for feeling it
Mum, how can youafter all, I love you so much, and Jack and I want to give you grandkids one day. What are you thinking, Mum? My sweet, lovely mum.
Meeting Jack was easier than shed feared. He was a sensible farm lad, hardworking, clevera boy worth trusting her precious daughter to.
It was tough for many back thensome had barely enough for bread, while others fed their dogs better than neighbours. But Emma, Maisie, and Jack wanted for nothing. Emmas seamstress skills survived after the old mill closedshe joined a womens cooperative, stitched smart togs for Maisie and Jack, never let them want.
Jack never sat idle; he built a new fence, replaced rotten timbers with his brothers, fixed the old washhouse, even knocked up a fine sty for a piglet. The cottage shone, warm, full of song since Maisie, clever beautiful Maisie, had been found.
Emmas heart thawed, glowing with a new will to livemaking up for every hard, shameful year behind her, years she tried to banish, though sometimes regret crept in and overwhelmed her at night.
Mum, is something wrong?
No, petal, just go to sleep. Im alright
Mum, can I sleep with you tonight?
Of course, Emma replied, making room in her narrow bed, letting Maisie curl in beside her.
My little bird, she thought, bursting with love like spring green buds. Thats motherhoodthank you, Lord, thank you for letting me know.
There came a wedding, with the new couple living under Emmas roof. She bloomed like a red carnation, so much so that even her coworkers at the shop noticed her blushing cheeks and unshakable smile.
Im going to be a grandma soonoh, Im all nerves, she whispered to her friends at break.
Emmas was a happy daughter, everyone whispered, so loved, so cherished.
A grandson! Alfie! Named after my own mother, Maisies gran, strict but fair, Emma said, laughing and crying at onceher perfect, lovely boy.
Shed not held a baby in yearsnot since Maisie. The baby thumped in Emmas arms, her happiness drummed through her skull like a bright, trembling bell.
Her whole world revolved around Alfie nowthe best of all grandsons, always by his grannys knee.
Jack built a great extension for the whole brood; he and his brothers launched a builders co-op, opened a hardware shop, and the family prospered quietly, keeping to themselves
And thenanother miracle! A granddaughter: Rosie.
Emma sewed the loveliest dressesno end of frills and bowsfor her darling Rosie. Such a beautiful child! The little house hummed with laughter.
Life sparkled for Emma, only sometimes she felt a sharp burning beneath her ribs.
Mum, darling, why didnt you say something was wrong?
Alls fine, Maisie, really
***
Im sorry, its too late. There was nothing we could do.
Doctor, doctor, howshe was my mum
Im very sorry. Truly.
***
Maisie Maisie love, times comeIve outstayed my welcome already. Theyd given up on me before, but you you saved me, you came for me, dearest.
Mum, dont say that
Let me speak, please its hard to talk I must sayMaisie, Im not your real mother. Forgive me.
Mum! Never say that, never, youre my mumdo you hear? My only one. I dont want to hear another word, you ARE my mum, always. Understood?
Yes yes, my darling my heart. There, in my journal, youll find itread it all. Forgive me, Maisie. I love you, my child.
And I love you, MumMum Mum
***
Maisie, you should eat something.
Yes, Jack in a bit, love, just give me a moment.
Maisie was sitting in her mothers room, reading Emmas little blue book. Her mothers life, scrawled out, knotted and fierce, sometimes wild, sometimes bright.
A tough mother, Edith Carter, father dead in the war. Young EmmaEmmy, Annie, Rosebud. Fell for a thiefsuch heady, dangerous days. Laughter and trouble, the sense of living free.
Ran away with him, and thenso many wild years; then, suddenly, nothing but loneliness. Time jumped, an ancient dragonfly hopping from leaf to leaf. The thief vanished behind bars. No one left in the world.
If only shed had a babybut cold and snow snatched that hope away, folly in youth. Lost everything, even womanhood. Only her mothers house left. Slowly thawed, clung on in the quiet.
Doctors advised timechurch candles and whispered prayers in the cold nave, asking for another chance
And then blessing arrivedMaisie. Couldnt let go.
She thought, Ill be a mother a whilea little while, just to feel it. Never imagined shed live so long, but she did, scribbling, almost like a stranger: happiness, just like everyone else. Work, home, a daughter to love.
She prayed for more daystime to care for her grandchildren, to help Maisie
At first she was terrified Maisie might learnmight find out she wasnt her real mum, only someone with the same name, or just an accident
And then she stopped being afraid, started living, trusting that perhaps she deserved happiness too.
Forgive me, my darling girl, I stole you really, stole your life from your real mothersuch is my borrowed happiness.
Mum Maisie wept, my beloved Mummy only one. I do hope you can hear me now.
I knew, I guessed almost at once. When I lived with you, the home said thered been a mix upthat my real mum was Emma Jane Carter. I found her out of curiosity.
She denied memarried, her life full, no room for me. She pushed money at me, said please dont come back. Frightened that people would see ussee her shame.
I leftran far, fell ill, terrible fever, do you remember, Mum? You, my true mum, God sent me you, I searched so long You are my mum.
Thank heavens they made that mistakeor perhaps it wasnt a mistake at all. Perhaps something above knew exactly whom to send, and where.
How do I go on without you, Mum?
Maisie, Maisie love
Let her grieve, Jack. Let her beshes lost her mother, you see
***
Gran, was Granny Emma kind?
She was the kindest, my love.
And was she pretty?
The prettiestmy little Rosie.
Who picked her name?
Maybe her mum, maybe her dad.
Your own daddy or mummy?
Yes, darling, your great-gran or great-grandad.
And did you name me after her?
I did, and your daddyhe loved his Granny Emma so.
Does she see me now?
Of course, shes watching, and shell stay near you always.
I love you, Granny Emma, the little girl whispered, laying her crown of buttercups on the soft green mound.
And I love you, my dear one, murmured the birch tree, and so do we all, added the wind.
