To stop the whispers, she chose to live with the hunchbacked man… But when he softly breathed his wish in her ear, she sank to her knees…
Edward, its you, my dear?
Yes, Mother, its me. Sorry its so late…
His mothers voice shook, brittle with worry and sleeplessness, echoing through the dusky hallway. She stood in a battered dressing gown, clutching a torch as if shed been waiting for him her whole life.
Eddie, my heart, where on earth have you been till this witching hour? The skys black as soot, the stars shining like cats eyes in the hedgerows…
Mum, I was just with Adam. Homework, revision… I lost track of time, thats all. Sorry I didnt ring. I know you never sleep well…
Or were you off with a girl? she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Are you in love, Eddie?
Oh, dont be daft! Edward laughed, heeling off his boots. Im not the sort girls wait for by a garden gate. Whod want me with this hunch and arms like a gorillas, and a head tangled as a thatch broom?
Hurt flashed behind her gaze. She never said she saw not a monster, but the son shed raised in hardship, in cold, alone.
Edward hardly graced a fashion plate. Barely five foot three, stooped, his arms hanging long as a chimps, hands nearly brushing his knees. A swollen head, roguish curls poking out like dandelion clocks. As a boy, theyd called him monkey, woodland sprite, natures oddity. But he grew up bigger than all that.
He and his mother, Margaret, came to this country village when he was ten. Theyd fled London from want and shame: his father imprisoned, his mother abandoned. Only the two of them remained. Together, facing down the world.
Your Eddies not long for this world, old Mrs. Turner muttered, eyeing the thin, crooked lad. Hell vanish right through the earth and leave no trace.
But Edward clung to life like ivy to stonework. He grew, worked, breathed. And Margaret a woman of iron will and bakers hands scarred by hot ovens baked bread for the village. Ten hours a day, year after year, until her own strength failed.
When illness laid her low, never to rise, Edward became son, daughter, nurse, and caregiver. He scrubbed the floors, simmered oatmeal, read battered magazines aloud. And when she died as softly as a breeze dying in a field he stood beside her coffin, fists clenched, silent. His tears, it seemed, had all run dry.
But the villagers remembered. Neighbours brought food, handed down jumpers and scarves. And then oddly others began to visit him. First the local lads, drawn by the radio kit in his hands. Edward kept the village loudspeakers humming mending receivers, aiming aerials, soldering wires with hands that worked like magic, despite appearances.
After a while, girls began dropping by too. First for tea and toast with bramble jam. Then they lingered, laughing, chatting.
One day, he noticed one girl Alice always stayed longer, after all the others left.
Not in a hurry then? he ventured, as the cottage emptied.
Ive nowhere to hurry to, she answered quietly, staring at the carpet. My stepmother hates me. My three brothers crude and cruel. Dads always drunk, and Im nothing to them. I stay with a friend, but not much longer Its peaceful here. I dont feel alone with you.
He looked at her and for the first time, felt that maybe someone needed him.
Why dont you live here? he said simply. Mums room is empty; you can keep house. I wont ask anything not a word, not a look. Just be here.
The village murmured, peering through their net curtains:
A beautiful girl and the hunchback? Its absurd, isnt it?
But the seasons shuffled round. Alice tidied, made soups, smiled. Edward worked, stayed quiet, looked after her.
And when she had a baby boy, the world spun round on its head.
Whos the father? the gossips quizzed. Does the baby look like him?
The boy, Daniel, looked up at Edward and said: Daddy!
Edward, whod never imagined fatherhood, felt something radiant struggling to unfurl inside his chest like a little sun, cracking open his heart.
He taught Daniel to strip wires and fix plugs, catch minnows in the brook, sound out storybook words. And Alice, watching them together, would say, softly:
Edward, you should find yourself a wife. Youre not alone now.
Youre like a sister to me, hed reply. First, Ill see you married to someone good and kind. Then well see.
And such a man came. Young, from a nearby village. Honest, hard-working.
They threw a proper English wedding. Alice moved away.
Some time later, Edward met her by the hedge-row and whispered:
I have something to ask. Let me keep Daniel.
What? she gasped. Why?
I know, Alice. When a woman has a child, everything inside her changes. But Daniel… hes not your flesh and blood. Youll forget him. But I… I cant.
I wont give him up!
Im not taking him, Edward said gently. Come round whenever you like. Just let him stay with me.
Alice went quiet. Then called her son:
Danny, love! Come here! Say would you rather live with Mummy, or Daddy?
He ran up, eyes glowing: Cant we have both, like before? Mummy and Daddy, together?
No, sweetheart, Alice murmured.
In that case, I want to stay with Daddy! Daniel shouted. But you, Mum you must visit!
And so, it was settled.
Daniel stayed. For the first time, Edward became truly a father.
One day, Alice returned and said:
Were moving to London. Im taking Daniel.
The boy howled like a lost cub, flinging himself on Edward:
I wont go! Im staying with Dad! Dads my family!
Edward… Alice whispered, eyes downcast, Hes not yours though…
I know, Edward replied. I always knew.
Ill run away to Dad! sobbed Daniel, choked by his tears.
And he did. Over and over.
Theyd take him; hed come back.
At last, Alice relented.
Let it be, she said. Hes made his choice.
So a new tale began.
The widow next door, Mary, had lost her husband a brute and a drunk. Heaven sent no children to their home, for there was no love within those walls.
Edward started calling in for milk, then fixing her gate, mending her leaky roof. And soon, just popping over. Sharing tea. Talking.
Slowly, gently, warily, they grew close.
Alice wrote letters. Shared news: Daniel now had a little sister, Diane.
Bring her here, Edward replied. Family should be together.
The next year, they all visited.
Daniel wouldnt let Diane out of his arms singing her lullabies, teaching her to toddle.
Come back to us, son, begged Alice. The city has the theatre, schools, chances
No, Daniel shook his head. Im not leaving Dad. I call Mary Mum now.
Then school started.
When the other boys boasted about fathers who were drivers, soldiers, engineers, Daniel felt no shame.
My Dad? he declared. He can mend anything. He understands the world. He saved me. Hes my hero.
Time moved on.
One evening, Mary and Edward sat by the fire with Daniel.
Im going to have a baby, Mary said, softly. A tiny one.
Will you send me away? Daniel whispered.
How could you say such a thing? cried Mary, hugging him tight. You are as dear as my own. I dreamed of you all my life!
My boy, said Edward, watching the flames, how could you ever think that? You are my world.
Come spring, baby Stephen was born.
Daniel treasured his new brother like the precious heart of the house.
Now Ive got a sister, hed whisper. And a brother. And a Dad. And Auntie Mary.
Alice kept writing, still coaxing.
But Daniels answer never changed:
Ive come home. Im already home.
Time passed. Folk stopped whispering about Daniels family. No one remembered he wasnt born to Edward. The whispers died.
And, when Daniel became a father himself, he told his children and his grandchildren the tale of the greatest dad in the world.
He wasnt a handsome man, Daniel would say. But he had more love than all the people I ever met put together.
Every year, on Edwards remembrance day, Marys children, Alices children, the grandchildren, the great-grandchildren they gathered at the old cottage, drank tea, laughed. Remembered.
We had the best Dad of all! the grown-ups would cry, raising their mugs. If only there were more fathers like him!
And every time, a finger pointed to the heavens, to the stars, to the memory of the man who, against all odds, had become a real father.
The only one.
