She took home another woman’s baby from the maternity ward to save her, but eighteen years later, a ghost from the shadows of the past appeared on the doorstepand her whole life was turned upside down.
On a biting November day in 1941, a grumpy wind lashed the bare trees along a muddy country lane near Clacton-on-Sea, snagging on leafless twigs and greedily stealing what little warmth remained in the Essex soil. The rutted track slurped at the carts poky wheels, already struggling to budge an inch through water-filled grooves.
Well never reach the hospital on this wretched road! sobbed Martha Stephens, mopping her eyes with a damp handkerchief.
Her husband, Tom Stephens, responded; Well manage, Molly, dont fret! Come on, girl! He flapped the frozen reins over a droopy old mare who barely noticed.
Lying atop a scratchy wool blanket in the cart was a young woman, groaning quietly in pain. Shed spent weeks praying for relief from her burden, only to be tormented anew by the cruel luck that midwife Mrs. Cartwright had slipped and broken her leg, while the only nurse in the next village had dashed off to tend a sick child.
Think of the baby, think of little Leonard, think of your husband, Martha whispered, stroking her daughters swollen belly.
I do, constantly, Mum.
How will you name your little one? Martha tried to distract her, struggling to keep her voice steady.
Leonard said if its a girl shell be Lily, and if a boyprobably Vincent.
Wonderful, love, wonderful. Your father will get us there. Lookyou see those smokestacks? That means town is near
At last, they rattled up to the hospital gates. No sooner had they enteredher body decided to get things over with. In short order, a tiny, soft girl arrived, making her presence loudly known. The young mother, Claire, held her daughter for the first time, her tears a muddle of joy and exhaustion. The agony of the journey seemed paltry now, eclipsed by overwhelming love.
Lily. Your father wanted you to have that name. Hell come home, safe and sound. Youre our hope
As soon as the nurse left with the newborn for examination, Claire fumbled for paper and pencil from a harried cleaner.
Wait here, Mrs. Stephens, Ill fetch what you need.
But the nurse, already in a mood, slammed drawers and let out brisk, irritated sighs.
Is something wrong? Claire ventured.
Move along, Im busy! was the chilly reply.
Back in her ward, Claire found another young motherthe reserved Zoe Greeneclumsily packing her bag.
Youre leaving so early? Claire was surprised.
Yes. I am, Zoe replied, almost inaudibly.
There was such a hollow sadness in Zoes eyes, it was hard to look at her. As Zoe shuffled out, burdened as if dragging all her sorrows behind her, Claire got her paper and pencil handed to her by the nurse, who surveyed the room with clear distaste before marching out.
Shes gone already, but I was told to stay three or four more days, Claire remarked.
Ran off, she did. Left her baby behind, nowhere for it to go. Some women, get themselves in trouble and dont want to take responsibility, the nurse sniffed.
She had a girl? Claire asked, unable to grasp giving up your own flesh and blood.
Yes. Rosy, healthy thingwhat more could you want? And with that, the nurse stomped off.
Claire struggled to compose her letter to Leonard. But she couldnt shake the thought of that abandoned girl, and despite her efforts, sleep eluded her.
The next day, passing by the nursery during feeding time, she heard a feeble babys wail. It pierced her.
May I feed her? she asked the same grim nurse.
Absolutely not! If she bonds with you how will she cope in care? Thatll just be harder on her.
Care home? Claire recoiled.
Where do you think shell go? We cant keep her here.
With sudden resolve, Claire made straight for Dr. Michael Farnsworth, the harried physician whod delivered her daughter.
Dr. Farnsworth, may I have a moment?
Go ahead, Mrs. Stephens. Make it snappy.
Theres a baby, left by her mother. Please let me take her home. Wheres the harm? One more wont even make a difference.
Dr. Farnsworth took off his glasses, giving her a long look.
Are you sure?
I am.
After a silent pause, he nodded. Joyfully, Claire hurried to the nursery, her heart swelling at the sight of the two sleeping infants.
Back again? I thought I told you to clear off! the ageing nursery assistant said sharply.
Let me have her. Doctors said yes. Shell be mine now. Claire gently scooped the child into her armsthe girl, eager for warmth, nestled close. A surge of tenderness overwhelmed Claire.
She whispered, Its all alright now, sweetheart. Were inseparable. Well call you Lucy. Lily and Lucythats what this world needs.
Decision made, Claire bundled both babies swaddled in blankets on the old cart back to Eastfield village.
Twins? Howd you manage that? Martha exclaimed as they pulled up outside their cottage.
Yes, Mumtwo daughters: Lucy and Lily.
They look nothing alike! When Elsie had twins, you couldnt tell them apart, Martha tutted suspiciously.
Hers were identical. Ours are just sisters, Mum, Claire fibbed, dropping her gaze.
All the betterwont confuse them! Tom, come meet your grandchild.
Tom grinned, cradling Lucy. Just you waitIll spoil you rotten,
Not too much! Martha wagged a finger. Spoil a girl and shell grow up flighty and wild!
Oh hush, Martha. Look at our Claireshe turned out splendidly.
They deposited their bundle of babies at home, popping Claires letter to Leonard into the royal blue post box along the way. Inside, she wrote honestly: they had a daughter, shed also welcomed an abandoned child, and she trusted her loving Leonard to understand.
Five years passed. Lily and Lucy blossomed into lively, bright children, and Claire could scarcely remember Lucy hadnt come from her own body. Her love, her sleepless nights, her worrythey were equal. Leonards absence (due to the war, now in Berlin, still writing reassuringly) made her more determined than ever.
Then, one fine day, the villages unofficial newsboy Sam came running barefoot up the street: Soldier! Soldiers home!
Dropping her laundry, Claire dashed to the gateher heart pounding. Out of the morning mist strode that familiar thin, tall figure in uniform: Leonard. She barely recognized him, but his stride was unmistakable.
Leonard! Darling! she cried, tears brimming as she flew to him.
He scooped her up and carried her through the gate, both sobbing and laughing. There were joyous hugs from Martha, from Leonards mother and sisters; but soon came the question:
And where are my girls?
With Dad, probably stuffing themselves with berries in the grove, Martha said with a smile.
Sure enough, in the old rowan grove, Tom Stephens supervised two sticky, giggling faces.
Here are your daughters, more alike by the day, Tom beamed, presenting them.
Leonard knelt to envelop the pair in his armsClaire felt finally, everything was as it should be.
Fifteen years slipped by; Claire and Leonard lost both their parents, but remained in Eastfield, tending the family plot, and the girls, now eighteen, worked locally and gardened under the watchful boughs of their grandfathers beloved rowan trees. Suitors were manyLily rather taken with Wilfred, Lucy followed around by George the tractor driverbut Leonard, hopelessly sentimental, dragged his feet on the notion of either marrying off.
Theyre still babies, Claire, he insisted.
Theyre adults, Leonard! You cant keep them home forever.
But he fussed and hovered, unwilling to imagine an empty cottage.
One afternoon, as the girls headed for the garden, a commotion started up by the gate.
Mum! Mum! Lily called, fear trembling in her voice.
What is it? Claire was at the window in a blink.
Come outside, and call Dad too!
Leonard and Claire hurried out, only to see Lily pointing anxiously at the open gate, where a striking womancity smart coat, hat at a rakish angle, and expensive shoesstrode into their world.
Good afternoon, Claire greeted the stranger, unsettled by a flicker of recognition.
Claire Stephens?
Yes. You are?
Nina Savel.
Im sorryI cant quite place you.
May I come in? We need to talk.
Lily, off you go, please, Claire sent her daughter away as her stomach twisted into knots of dread.
You dont remember me, do you? I shared your room in the hospital. November 1941?
It hit Claire sharply. I do. But why are you here?
I want to see my daughter, Nina said.
Leonards eyes tightened. What are you on about?
Didnt your wife tell you? One of your girlsshes not your own.
Claires eyes flashed. I told him everything! Hes an honourable man, not like some
Is that so? Then one of them should know the truththat youre not her mother.
Get out! You waltz in here after eighteen years, after abandoning your child in the hospital, and now you want her back? I raised her, nursed her, lost sleep to fever and terrorswhere were you then?
I couldnt take her, dont you see? Ninas city polish cracked, her voice thin. I was just a farm girl, at college in London, caught in wartime foolishness. I couldnt go home with a babythe shame My love was arrested, I was left alone, just seventeen My father wouldve thrown me out. I panicked and left her. I regretted it every day. I made myself a lifemarried, later lost my marriage after years of infertility never had another child. I started searching. I had connections. I found out who took her and where.
And now you think you can just take her? She wont want you! Leonard snapped, shoving a chair so hard it rattled.
Mum! Dad! Through the crack in the parlour door, pale-faced Lily stared in horror. What did she say?
Oh, Lily, dear, Claire groaned.
So who is it, then? Whos her mother?
Lucy Claire whispered, as the truth settled with a finality in the room.
Im not leaving until I see her, Nina insisted, trying to compose herself. Shes old enough to decide.
At that moment, Lucy herself skipped in, saw the tense scene, and froze.
All hell broke loose: Lucys outrage, Lilys tears, Ninas fruitless pleading. The wounds cut deep and fast. Nina, seeing the turmoil she sparked, left in silent defeat. That night, Lucy was gone tooleaving a note: I cant stay with people who lied to me.
For weeks Claire sat in the rowan grove, inconsolable. I cant bear this, Leonard. Not a word from her.
Shell be back. Shes not a city bird. She loves us, and she needs her sister.
George pined for Lucy, until Leonard, overcome by fatherly guilt, decided hed say yes to the marriage if ever she returned.
Eventually, on a golden September afternoon, Claire turned to see Lucy emerge from the rowan trees.
Mum, Im home.
My lovemy daughter! Claire squeezed her until Lucy gasped.
Im sorry. I dont know what came over me. I stayed with her she tried, but it felt false. I missed you, Lily, George, this placeevery rowan tree reminded me of home.
Leonard gathered her close. Youll stayforever, if we have to chain you to the fence. And youll marry Georgewe need life and cheer about the place!
Epilogue
One week later, there were two village weddings under the old rowan trees: Lily with Wilfred, Lucy with George. The brides white dresses shone against the flame-red berriesnatures own blessing, as everyone said. Nina Savel never returned. And Lucy came to know that being a mother is far more than giving birthits losing sleep over homework and heartbreak, kissing grazed knees, and loving without pause or question. That lesson in kindness and familya simple village truthwould stay in her heart all her days.
