Margaret Hughes was pushing sixty, and while retirement was staring her in the face she wasnt about to rush it. After her night shift at the local hospital she changed out of scrubs, slung her bag over her shoulder and trudged home through a proper British downpourno umbrella in sight. She ducked into the bus shelter, only to hear a tiny wail. On the bench lay a swaddled bundle, a baby no older than a fortnight.
She scooped up the little thing and tried to calm him. A frazzled mother sprinted back to her post, drenched and apologetic, and rang an emergency paediatrician.
Looks like a boy, two weeks old, perfectly healthy, Dr. James Whitaker said after his quick exam. No clue why he was abandoned here, but hell need a lot of love and pampering.
Margaret decided to stay for the nightshift handovershe wasnt planning on sleeping anyway. Soon the police arrived, and she was asked for a statement while she kept the infant snug in her arms.
A couple arrived a couple of hours later, looking halfshocked and halftearful. The girl, Poppy Clarke, clutched a handkerchief, while her husband Robert glanced nervously at the floor.
Lets see if its ours, Poppy whispered, eyes wide.
They were whisked off to the children’s ward. The moment Poppy laid eyes on the baby shed been looking for, she broke down and hugged him like hed been missing for years. Margaret stood there, baffled, as Inspector Lewis explained the whole mess.
Poppy and Robert have been sneaking around because Poppys parents disapprove of the match, Lewis said. Roberts mother has been trying to sabotage the relationship, hoping to keep Poppy away. When the baby arrived, they hoped the grandparents would finally come around. Instead, Poppys own mother thought the child was a nuisance and, seeing the couple off to the cinema, decided to help by leaving the newborn on the maternity ward doorstep.
And there you have ityoung Robert and Poppys son will probably never meet his greatgrandmother again.
