In the corridor of a women’s clinic, an elderly woman sat on a bench. Beside her was a slender teenage girl, about 15, in a short skirt that barely covered her knobbly knees. The grandmother had brought her granddaughter for an abortion.
The old woman kept sighing heavily, while the girl glanced around nervously, clutching a plastic bag. A woman in her thirties sat down next to them.
“Are you here for… you know?”
“Yes… Tell me, does it hurt?”
“It’s not pleasant, obviously, but they’ll give you something. And it’s quick—five minutes tops, if it’s early. That’s what they say, anyway. First time for me too, if I’m honest. And I keep thinking… it’s not the baby’s fault, is it?”
“Oh Lord, what a mess,” the grandmother muttered. “She’s my granddaughter, year nine at school, and this boy tricked her, then dumped her. Now she’s pregnant. He won’t have a thing to do with it. What are we supposed to do? She’s got to finish school! No parents, just me raising her… Oh, what a nightmare.”
“Nana, enough! You’re breaking my heart, it’s bad enough as it is. The lady just said it won’t hurt, quick and done.”
“Oh, love, but that’s a baby in there—alive! And you’re just gonna… snap your fingers? The girl’s right, the little one’s done nothing wrong. You know what? Get up. We’re going home. We’ll manage. And that Tommy of yours isn’t worth the trouble—some father he turned out to be. Come on, grab your bag. Let’s go, nothing for us here.”
The girl seemed to be waiting for just that. She snatched the bag and headed for the exit, her grandmother shuffling after. The woman on the bench smiled to herself, watching them leave.
**Twenty years later**
“Mum, I love him, it’s serious, you’ve got to believe me! Danny’s a good lad, he’s got big plans!”
“Plans? If you marry now? Finish uni first, then we’ll see!”
“Mum, we’re 20, not kids. A wedding won’t stop us studying. And we won’t spend loads—just sign the papers, have dinner with his parents and nan, then celebrate with friends after. Danny adores his nan, she raised him.”
“Oh, Molly, what won’t a mother do for her girl? Fine, we’d best meet Danny’s folks—we’ll be in-laws, after all!”
“Invite them over, Mum.”
“Hello, come in! I’m Molly’s mum, Julia. Sit down, please…”
As Julia looked at Danny’s grandmother, something flickered in her memory. Danny’s mum, Annie, was strikingly young—barely older than her son. Over tea, the story unfolded: Annie had him at 16, by a schoolmate who’d first denied it, then married her to dodge legal trouble. They’d split soon after.
“You know, Julia,” the nan said, “hard to admit, but we nearly… Well, Annie was just a kid herself. No parents—her mum gone young, her dad locked up. I raised her, then she turns up pregnant. What were we to do?”
“When we got to the hospital that day, waiting our turn, this woman came over. Said children aren’t to blame. Hit me like lightning—how could we even think of it? A sign from above, it was. So we left, kept our Danny.”
“God sent that woman, I reckon. Annie stayed in school till the end, then Danny came. I minded him while she trained as a baker. Tommy, his so-called dad? Useless. But we managed. Annie married a decent sort later, had a daughter. Makes lovely cakes now. If Danny and Molly wed, they can have my flat—I’ll move in with Annie. There you are, our little saga.”
Julia’s hands trembled. It was them—the woman and girl who’d walked out that day. Because of them, she’d kept her baby. Her Molly.
After overhearing their talk back then, a calm had washed over her. She’d been pregnant by a married man, her first love. One reckless night, then silence. She’d resolved not to wreck his life or burden a child with hers. The clinic was her answer.
But five minutes with those two changed everything. If they could do it, so could she. A sign, surely. She’d followed them out.
Now here they were, brought together by fate—not tragedy, but joy. Two children who might never have been, about to marry. What else could it be?
Life sends signs. Some listen, some don’t. Sometimes five minutes is all it takes—to keep a child you never planned for, then wonder how you ever thought of living without them.
Things happen. But if your gut says you’re making a mistake… pause. Sometimes five minutes changes everything.
