From her pension, Doris Matthews, after paying the unavoidable utility bills and shopping at the local wholesale market, allowed herself just one small luxurya bag of freshly roasted coffee beans. The beans were already roasted, and when she snipped the corner off the packet, the aroma that wafted out was enough to send her senses reeling. To get the full effect, you had to close your eyes, shut out every feeling except for your sense of smell, and for just a momentsomething magical would happen. Along with that entrancing scent, new energy seemed to flow through her, and memories surfacedgirlish dreams of faraway places, the crash of the ocean, the patter of tropical rain, the mysterious whispering of the forest, and the wild cries of monkeys swinging high above the treetops.
She had never actually seen any of these things, of coursebut she remembered her fathers tales. As a child, her dad was always off travelling on one expedition or another, particularly in South America. When he came home, hed tell Doris fantastical stories of his adventures in the depths of the Amazon, sipping a strong cup of coffee, the same aroma that forever reminded her of hima wiry, weather-beaten explorer with sun-browned skin.
Doris always knew she was adopted. She could recall, during the early days of the war, being a little three-year-old girl who had lost her family and being taken in by the woman who became her mother for life. After that, her life followed much the same path as anyone elsesschool, college, a job, marriage, the birth of her sonand then, isolation. Her son, many years ago, had finally agreed to his wifes request to move abroad for a better life. He settled in the city of Brighton and flourished there, and over the years, had only visited Doris home in Manchester once. They spoke by phone, and every month he sent her money, but Doris couldnt bring herself to spend it. She stashed it away in a special savings account. Over twenty years, shed saved a sizeable sum, which would eventually go back to her son. Someday
Recently, Doris had been haunted by the sense that shed lived a good life, full of love and caresbut not really her own. If it hadnt been for the war, her entire world would have been different: a different family, different parents, a different home. She would have had a whole other destiny. She could barely remember her birth parents, but she often thought of the little girl who had always been close by in her earliest memoriesa girl named Molly. Sometimes she thought she could still hear people calling them: Molls! Dorrie! Were they just friends or sisters?
Her reflections were cut short by a short beep from her mobile. Looking at the screen, Doris saw her state pension had come through. Perfect timing! She could pop out to buy coffeea new packet was exactly what she needed, as shed brewed the last cup only that morning. Tapping her stick against the pavement, steering around autumn puddles, she made her way towards the shop.
At the doorway sat a little grey tabby cat, eyeing the passers-by and the shop doors in turn with wary curiosity. Doris felt a pang of sympathy. Poor thingfreezing out here, probably hungry too. Id take you home, sweetheart, but who would look after you when Im gone? My days are numbered if not today, then soon. But unable to simply walk away, she bought a cheap packet of cat food for the little stray.
Carefully, she emptied the contents of the pouch into a plastic tray. The cat waited patiently, gazing up at Doris with adoring green eyes. Suddenly, the shops doors flew open and out stepped a plump, sour-faced woman, looking ready for an argument. Without a word, she kicked the tray so hard the contents scattered across the wet pavement.
I keep telling peopleenough is enough! she snapped. Stop feeding them! And with that, she stormed off.
The tabby, casting nervous glances around, quickly began picking up the scattered morsels, while Doris, breathless with indignation, felt the first wrench of a headache coming onone of her migraines. She hurried towards the bus stop where there was a bench and sat down, fumbling frantically for her medicationno luck.
The pain surged in waves, her head throbbing as though squeezed in a vice, her eyesight dimming, a groan escaping her chest. Suddenly, someone touched her arm. With effort, Doris opened her eyes and saw a young woman looking at her with concern.
Are you alright, Nan? Can I do anything to help?
In the carrier bagpack of coffeeopen it up for me, Doris managed.
The woman handed her the bag and opened it. Doris pressed the packet to her face, breathing in the scent once, then again. The pain didnt end, but it eased a little.
Thank you, love, Doris whispered.
My names Emily, the girl smiled, but you should thank the cat. She stayed right here with you and made such a racket someone was bound to come!
Thank you too, sweetheart, Doris said softly, stroking the tabby, now curled up beside her on the bench.
What happened, if you dont mind me asking? Emily inquired gently.
Migraine, love. Just one of those things, I get them when Im upset Doris replied honestly.
Ill walk you homeits not safe for you to go alone, Emily insisted.
Later, when they were sharing a light coffee with milk and a handful of biscuits in Doris cosy flat, Emily continued, My gran gets migraines too. Well, shes actually my great-gran, but I call her Gran. She lives down in a village with my grandma, mum, and dad. Im training as a nurse here, at college. She calls me love too. And you know, you look so much like her that for a moment, I thought you were her! Did you ever try to find your birth family?
Oh, darling, how would I? I barely remember anything. No idea of my real surname, where I was born. I do remember running alongside a cart during an air raid, tanks rumbling past, running so hard I didnt know where I was sheer terror. Then, a woman took me in, became my mother for life. After the war, her husband returnedhe was the finest father I could wish for. The only thing left from before is my name. My family might have died in that bombingmy mother, and my little Molly
She didnt notice when Emily started and looked at her with wide, blue eyes.
Doris, do you do you have a birthmark on your right shoulder? Shaped like a leaf?
Doris nearly choked on her coffee, and even the tabby stared up at her.
How on earth do you know about that, love?
My great-gran has the exact same one, Emily said softly. Her name is Molly. Even now, she cant talk about her little twin sister, Dorrie, without crying. She was lost during the evacuation, right in the middle of an air raid. The roads were cut off and they had to turn back home and live through the occupation. But Dorrie disappeared. They searched and searched, but never found her
From the moment she woke up, Doris couldnt sit still. She paced from window to door, waiting for visitors. The little tabby never left her side, watching Doris anxiously.
Dont worry, Margo, Im just fine, she reassured the cat. My hearts just a bit lively, thats all.
Finally the doorbell rang. Doris opened the door, her hands trembling.
Two elderly women stood facing each other, eyes brimming with hope. It was like looking in a mirrorthe same blue eyes, the same silvery curls, the same deep sorrow softening the corners of their mouths.
At last, the guest breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, stepped forward and embraced Doris.
Hello, Dorrie!
And on the threshold, wiping away happy tears, stood familyher very own.
