Without a Soul
Claudia Stevenson returned home, her silvery hair newly coiffed and her nails impeccably polished.
At sixty-eight, she took pride in her appearance, regularly indulging herself with trips to the local salon; these little rituals gave her pep and lifted her spirits.
Claudia, a relative of yours came by.
I told her youd be home later.
She said she might pop round again, her husband, Geoffrey, informed her as she stepped through the door.
What relative?
I havent got any left.
Probably someone twice removed, looking for handouts.
You shouldve told her I’d gone off to Timbuktu, Claudia grumbled.
Why fib, though?
She seemed to be family, tall and dignified, reminds me of your late mother-in-law, bless her soul.
And I doubt she’s here to beg.
Came across as cultured, dressed well, Geoffrey tried to soothe her.
About forty minutes later, the relative rang the doorbell.
Claudia let her in herself.
The woman was indeed reminiscent of Claudias late mother: elegantly dressed in a fine tweed coat, smart leather boots, gloves, tiny diamond studs glinting in her earsdetails Claudia noticed instantly.
Claudia invited her guest to the already laid table.
Well, let’s get acquainted, since we’re family.
Im Claudiano need for formalities.
We seem of similar age.
Thats my husband Geoffrey.
By which line are we related? Claudia inquired.
The woman hesitated, a faint flush colouring her cheeks.
Im Helen…
Helen Williams.
The difference in our years is not so wide.
I turned fifty on June 12th.
Does that date mean anything to you?
Claudia went pale.
I see you remember.
Yes, Im your daughter.
Dont worry, I dont want anything from you.
I just wanted to see my mother.
Ive spent my whole life wondering why Mum didnt love me.
Shes been gone eight years now.
Why only Dad loved me?
He passed only two months ago.
In his last moments, he told me about you.
Asked youd forgive him, if you could, Helen said shakily.
Geoffrey, bewildered, turned to Claudia, You have a daughter?
Apparently so.
Ill explain later, Claudia replied.
So, youre my daughter?
Splendid.
You’ve had your look?
If you expect me to beg forgiveness, I wont.
I bear no guilt here, Claudia told Helen.
I trust Dad told you everything?
If you hope to stir motherly feelings in me, it wont happennot a shred.
Sorry.
May I visit again?
I live nearby, just outside town.
Weve a big two-storey housewhy not come over with Geoffrey?
Maybe youll get used to the idea that I exist.
I brought photos of your grandson and great-granddaughter.
Will you have a look? Helen pleaded.
No, I dont want to.
Dont visit.
Forget about me.
Goodbye, Claudia replied sharply.
Geoffrey called Helen a taxi and walked her out.
When he returned, Claudia had already cleared the table and was watching television serenely.
Youve got a steely resolve!
You could command armies.
Have you no soul at all?
I always suspected you were hard-hearted, but not to this degree, Geoffrey said.
We met when I was twenty-eight, yes?
Well, dear husband, my soul was crushed long before that.
I was a village girl, always longing to escape to the citystudied harder than anyone else, got into university, the only one from my class.
At seventeen, I met Victor.
Madly in love.
He was nearly twelve years older but I didnt mind.
After my poverty-stricken childhood, the city seemed magical.
My stipend barely covered anything.
I was constantly hungry, so I was thrilled each time Victor invited me for tea or ice cream.
He made no promises, but our love convinced me he’d marry me.
One evening, he invited me to his cottage and I went without hesitation.
I was sure Id tied him to me.
Our meetings at his cottage became routine.
Before long, it was clear I was expecting his child.
I told Victor.
He was delighted.
Knowing my condition would show soon, I broached the prospect of marriage.
Id turned eighteenold enough to apply for a marriage license.
Did I ever promise to marry you? Victor replied with a question.
No promises, and I wont.
Im already married, he continued in the same calm tone.
But what about the baby?
And me? I asked.
You?
Youre young and healthy.
They could sculpt a statue of you for the village green.
Take a leave from university.
While youre not showing, keep studying, then my wife and I will bring you to live with us.
We can’t seem to have a baby.
Maybe it’s the age gap.
When you give birth, we’ll take the child.
The details aren’t your concern.
Im not just anyone in the council, and my wife runs a department at the city hospital.
So, dont worry about the little one.
After you recover, return to university.
Well pay you, too.
Surrogacy was unheard of then.
I might have been the only surrogate mother at that time.
What else could I do?
Go back to the village and bring disgrace upon my family?
Before the birth, I lived in their mansion.
Victors wife never spoke to me, perhaps she was jealous.
I delivered the baby at homea midwife was hired, everything by the book.
I didnt nurse the girl; she was taken away immediately.
I never saw her again.
After a week, they gently sent me off.
Victor gave me money.
I returned to university.
Then, a job at a factory.
They gave me a room in staff housing.
Worked first as a supervisor, then senior quality inspector.
Lots of friends, but no one proposed until you came along.
I was twenty-eight, didnt want to marry, but it seemed necessary.
You know the rest.
We led a good life togetherthree cars, a full house, a well-kept garden, holidays every year.
Our factory survived the nineties because we produced unique tractor parts no one else could.
Still surrounded by wire and guard towers.
We retired early, had everything we needed.
No childrenand Im honestly glad.
Just look at the children nowadays Claudia finished her confession.
We didnt live well together.
I loved you, spent my life trying to warm your heart, and failed.
It wasnt just the absence of childrenyou never showed tenderness, not even to a stray kitten or dog.
My sister once asked you to help her niece, and you wouldnt let her stay for even a week.
Today, your daughter came to you.
How did you treat her?
Your own blood.
If we were younger, Id want a divorce, but it’s too late now.
Being near you is coldso cold, Geoffrey snapped.
Claudia was slightly frightenednever had Geoffrey spoken so harshly.
Her tranquil life was shattered by this daughter.
Geoffrey moved out to the garden cottage.
These last years, hes lived there.
At his cottage, he keeps three dogsfound abandoned pupsand an indeterminable number of cats.
He rarely comes home.
Claudia knows he visits her daughter Helen, befriended everyone there, adores his great-granddaughter.
He was always a bit silly, still is.
Let him live as he pleases, Claudia thinks.
Her desire to know her daughter, grandson, or great-granddaughter has never come.
She travels alone to the coast, rests, gathers strength, and feels utterly splendid.
