Id loved Eleanor ever since we were pupils, and wed talked about tying the knot one day.
My mother, Margaret Whitaker, ran the maternity ward at St.Albans Hospital and wasnt pleased with my choice. Shed long preferred a nurse called Charlotte, a girl adored by the staff and patients alike, coming from a line of doctors.
After school, I enrolled at the Royal College of Surgeons, while Eleanor went to the Institute of Modern Languages to become an English translator like her mother and grandmother. Our friends decided to mark the occasion with a weekend in the countryside, staying at my familys old cottage in the Cotswolds.
We lingered there for nearly a month, reluctant to return, but the new term was looming and we had to prepare.
One autumn evening Eleanor said, Im pregnant, Phil. How will you take it?
I replied, What do you think? Ill whisk you off to the registry office.
She sighed, Im not light; Im heavy.
Scare a sportsman? I used to wrestle at school. Youre as light as a feather to me, I joked, delighted.
But what about our studies?
About school, love. Youll need a years break after the baby arrives.
Ill go distancelearning, like my mum did. She had me at nineteen and managed everything. Lets be clear, Phil: after the wedding youll move in with us, keep your distance from my mother. Ive known shell never accept meshes a force of nature.
Only for your peace of mind, love, I agreed.
Eleanor and I lodged our marriage notice at the register and then went our separate ways. A few friends were at Eleanors flat when her fathers old schoolmate arrived with his wife and their son, Alexander, a sixteenyearold who looked older than his years.
Back at home I told my parents the news and warned them to start preparing for the wedding.
Margaret disapproved. That evening she marched to Eleanors parents house intending to cause a scene. She rang the bell repeatedly, but nobody answered. The family were setting the table in the lounge, music playing, and they ignored the sound. Alexander was in the shower, surprised no one seemed to notice the bell. He wrapped a towel round his waist and opened the door.
Margaret, bewildered, realised shed got her phone out, hit record and began filming the hallway, catching Alexander in his towel.
Are you here to see MrsHarrington? Alexander asked, not understanding why she was filming.
Its not that, Margaret replied, hurrying down the stairs.
Later she showed me the footage, pointing out how long it took Alexander to answer.
Recognise the hallway? Still no idea who shes carrying.
I get it, Mum. You were right. She isnt the one for me.
I fired an angry text to Eleanor, then switched her phone off. She didnt understand, but she kept trying to reach me, even in the dead of night.
I expected Eleanor to come to me for answers and watched her from the window. When I saw her approaching, I rushed to the hallway and opened the door myself. I let her in, then stepped onto the landing.
What do you want from Phil? Hes already in bed. And you, playing both sides? Keep seeing other men, you twofaced wretch, I snarled, then slammed the door behind me and retreated to my flat.
Eleanor stood on the step, tears streaming, bewildered. After a while she went back home. In the kitchen her mother, MrsHarrington, was washing dishes, and her teary daughter clung to her.
Lily, whats the matter? The weddings nearyou should be happy.
Mum, theres nothing left but this baby Im carrying. Your sons message about my cheating with someone else blew everything up, she sobbed, showing me the texts.
If Phil behaves like that, hell always bow to his mother. Gods taken him away from you. Well raise the child ourselves, her mother tried to soothe her.
The fallout left Eleanor struggling through a rough pregnancy. She was rushed to St.Albans maternity ward while her parents were at work. Under anaesthetic she gave birth, only to be told the baby had been stillborn.
After the paperwork, the tiny corpse was handed to the parents, who buried him. Eleanor remained in the ward, missing the funeral.
Soon after, my parents sold their flat and left the neighbourhood.
Its for the best, love. Youve had enough of Phils cold shoulders, my mother said.
Hope I can forget him sooner, my sister replied.
Eight years later, Eleanor worked as a translator for a modest firm. One morning I walked into her office.
Why are you here now? Ive long since moved on, she said.
Im sorry, but tragedy has brought me back to you, I replied.
Thats odd, Phil. Your mums a good woman. Talk to her. Ive no time for you. Please leave, she snapped, turning back to her screen.
I beg you, listen. It matters to you too. Meet me at the café opposite after work, I pleaded.
Only out of curiosity, she muttered, signalling the end of the conversation.
That evening we met outside the café.
Im sorry, Lily, but my son is ill and needs a donor.
Youve got the wrong address, Phil. My mother has more resources here.
Weve been waiting, no donor is available. Ive even listed my flat for sale. Youre a motheryou could help.
This is a joke? Our son was stillborn. My parents buried him.
Hes alive, eight now.
How? I asked.
Remember the day we filed our marriage notice?
Ill never forget your nasty text.
I repeated what my mother had told me about what shed seen in the hallway that night.
Eleanor explained who Alexander was, and I went pale. I still loved her, and Id never married. She, too, stayed single, fearing another loss.
Phil, tell me about our son. What did your mother do?
When you were in the maternity ward, my mother saw you being wheeled to surgery. She guessed I was the father and, after a test, confirmed it. She refused to give us the child. Im to blame for agreeing. My grudge haunted me. God seems to be punishing usour son, Samuel, is ill.
Lets get tested. If Im not a match, he must share my blood type.
Yes, Im typeO, youre typeA, I said.
Eleanors hands trembled as we entered the clinic. Samuel lay in a ward, looking exactly like his father.
Samuel, weve finally found your mother. We were lost for years, but people helped us reunite, I whispered, while Eleanor stared, speechless.
Mom, Ive imagined this for so long. Weve never had pictures of you, Samuel said.
Son, everything will be alright. Im here and will do anything to make you well, Eleanor sobbed, hugging him.
Son, let your mother speak with the doctor, the nurse said.
Eleanor turned out to be a perfect match, and Samuels treatment succeeded. I sold the remaining flat and paid the clinics fees. We now share a house with Eleanors parents in Surrey.
Lily, forgive me. We need to marry, and you should have another child. Our sons doctor says a sibling donor is better than a parents, I said.
Ive read that, Phil. Ill do whatever it takes for our childrens health, she replied.
We married, and besides Samuel we now raise two more childrena boy and a girlliving a quiet, hopeful life in England.
