Hurrying Home with Heavy Bags, Vera Never Expected the Ambulance: A Neighbour’s Cat, an Estranged Daughter, and the Christmas Miracle That Opened Old Wounds and Healed New Hearts

Author Walton MerrittReading 8 minViews 4

Monday, 18th December

I hurried home along the frosty High Street, my arms weighed down by bulging shopping bags. My mind buzzed with the endless to-dos: dinner needed cooking, the boys were waiting to be fed, and I still had to help Oliver with his spelling homework.

As I turned onto our road, I spotted an ambulance parked outside our building. My heart leapt into my throat. Bens health has been touch and go latelycould something have happened that needed emergency help?

Shakily, I approached the driver. Are you here for flat fifteen? I asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

He shook his head. No, miss, weve been called to number fourteen. An elderly ladys not feeling well.

Relief flooded through me. So it wasnt for us. Theyd come for Mrs Nina Alexander from next door. Not a happy situation by any meansshes well into her eighties and alone apart from her catbut still, it wasnt my family.

As I trudged upstairs, I remembered Mrs Alexanders fluffy tabby. If they took her to hospital, someone would need to care for it. Food on the kitchen table, litter trayshouldnt be too revolting to change once a day.

There was a bit of a commotion by her door. The paramedics held the blocks foyer doors open, and I saw Ben lending a hand to help Mrs Alexander onto a stretcher.

The drivers coming up nowwell manage between us, one paramedic assured him.

Mrs Alexander caught sight of me and managed a wan smile. Vera, love, theyre taking me into hospital. Ill give you my keyssomeone needs to look in on Muriel for me. Her cat foods on the counter, and please change her tray once a day if you dont mind. I hope Ill be home for New Year. She slipped her key into my hand with the gentlest squeeze.

Of course Ill look after Muriel, I promised, giving her hand a reassuring pat. You just focus on getting better.

Stay still, dont try to get up, the paramedic chided. Almost ready to go.

Wait! Mrs Alexander called out. Vera, one more favour. Theres a scrap of paper with a phone number on my hall table. If the worst happenscould you call that number? Its my daughters. We havent spoken for years, but she trailed off.

I promised I would, and before long the ambulance whisked her away. I pocketed the note, checked on Muriel (who blinked at me with wide golden eyes), then locked up.

When Ben got home, I blurted out, Can you believe weve lived opposite Mrs Alexander all these years and I never knew she had a daughter?

Me neither, he replied. Never seen anyone visit her. Whats for supper?

That sent me straight into my usual whirlwind: shepherds pie in the oven, boys tumbling around the flat, homework checked. By the time the boys were snuggled up in bed, Id almost forgotten about Mrs Alexanders daughteruntil my gaze fell on the crumpled note from her hall, a number pencilled in shaky handwriting.

Should I ring? I glanced at the clock. Too late nowif I got through, the hospital wouldnt allow a late visitor anyway.

Tuesday, 19th December

I stopped by Mrs Alexanders flat with a bag of treats for Muriel. The chubby cat hopped onto my lap, purring contentedly. I hesitated, still tornwas it my place to call this mysterious daughter? For a moment I watched Muriel kneading the cushion, then put my doubts aside and dialled.

Hello, is that Samantha? I ventured, when a tired voice picked up. You dont know meIm your mothers neighbour. She was taken to hospital yesterday. Perhaps you might want to visit her?

That woman? I have nothing to say to her, snapped the woman on the other end. She stopped being my mother years ago.

I felt a surge of indignation. Oh, come on! Whatever happened between you, thats still your mum lying there. She might not even make it back home! Arent you even a little concerned?

This is none of your business! Samantha retorted.

Youre heartless! If I could spend even a minute with my own mother again, Id give anything in the world. Believe me, once shes gone, youll realise what youve lost. I cared for my mum through six years of illnesssometimes it was beyond exhausting, but now, after nearly a decade, Id give anything to have those days back.

I slammed down the phone, too angry to speak further.

Looks like its just you and me for now, Muriel, I said to the cat, who blinked. If your owner doesnt get better, well have to bring you in with Barley. Hope the two of you can get along I rang the hospital again todaythey said theres no change.

New Years Eve

Ben and I were coming back from the shops, me with a bag of groceries, him proudly carrying a little Christmas tree. The chilly air stung my cheeks, but the twinkle of fairy lights from our windows cheered me up.

Could you hold the door? I shouted, jogging towards the entrance where two women were stepping inside. Alex, hurry up!

He bustled in with the tree, nearly jostling the decorations dangling from its branches.

Suddenly, I recognised one of the women. I stopped in amazement. Mrs Alexanderis that you? Youre home!

She beamed. Finagled my way out of the hospitalthey let me go home for New Year once I started feeling better. Vera, I want you to meet Samanthamy daughter!

Samantha grinned. Weve spoken, strangely enoughthough not exactly face to face.

We all climbed the stairs together. Samantha supported her mother gently, then turned to me with a low whisper: Thank youfor making me see sense. May I pop in to see you later?

Of course, I replied, taken aback.

Half an hour later, Samantha appeared at our door, clutching a box from the bakery. We made tea, and as we chatted, she told me the whole story:

Mum and I had a daft row ten years agocant even remember what about, really. Shes a retired teacher, always correcting me, and that day I just lost my temper. We both sulked, neither willing to reach out first. For a while we only exchanged cards on Christmas or birthdays. Awful, really. I even told her once Id be better off without her interferencesomething I regret now.

She sipped her tea, voice shaking. When you called, I felt nothing at firstmaybe even relief, how awful is that? But when you told me about your own mum, I realised what Id be losing. If shes gone, my whole childhood goes with her. I thought about it for two days, then swallowed my pride and visited her in the hospital.

Her lips trembled but her eyes were shining. You wont believe itafter I visited, she started feeling better almost at once. Ill never leave her alone again.

She bid us a warm goodnight and hurried back to her mother.

After shed gone, Ben looked at me, bemused. What did you say to her?

I smiled. The truth, I suppose. Sometimes, thats all it takes for someone to finally see things clearly. I looked at him, squeezing his hand. Give your mum a ring tonight, will you? Or better stilllets go over there for New Years. Weve only got one mum left between us, after all.Ben grinned and nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright. As midnight approached, laughter echoed through our flat, glasses clinked, and the boys tried unsuccessfully to stay awake for the chimes.

Later, as I stepped onto the balcony, snow had begun to fallsoft, swirling flakes settling on the rooftops below. Across the way, I saw Mrs Alexanders window aglow, her silhouette framed by Samantha’s arm wrapped lovingly around her shoulders. Muriel, regal and content, dozed on the windowsill between them.

I took a deep breath of crisp winter air, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with scarves or cocoa. Around us were families, patched up in ways big and small, gathering the pieces they still had instead of mourning what was gone. Bridges can be rebuilt, hearts can find one another again, and even on the coldest nights, forgiveness and kindness are enough to draw people home.

As the church bells tolled in the distance and the neighbors cheers rose toward the frosted stars, I smiled and made my New Years wish. Not for more time, or fewer worries, but for the couragealwaysto reach out, to make the call, to let love find its way back where it belongs.

The Unwanted Child — So, have you chosen a name for your little girl? — The elderly doctor smiled his professional smile at his young patient. — We haven’t decided yet, — Natalia, who was sitting by the bed, interjected. — Naming a baby is a serious matter, Dasha needs to think carefully. — I don’t want to. — To everyone’s surprise, the young mother herself spoke up. — I’m not planning on taking her home at all. I’m going to write a refusal. — What are you saying? — The woman shot up, then gave the girl a furious look and turned to the doctor. — She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Of course we’ll take the baby. — I’ll come back later. Try to get some rest, — the doctor said, clearly uninterested in witnessing a family row. As soon as the man left, Natalia turned on the girl with reproaches. — How dare you say something like that? What will people think of us? We had to move to this city as it is, trying to keep everything quiet. That baby is staying in this family. — And whose fault is that? — Dasha stared right at her. — If you’d listened to me back then, none of this would’ve happened. I’d have finished school in peace and gone off to uni. So, if you want this baby so much, you can have her. She turned to the wall, signalling the conversation was over. Natalia tried for a few more minutes to talk sense into her daughter, but then a nurse came and asked her to leave. The patient needed rest. Dasha was finally alone in the ward. She wept quietly into her pillow, praying to every god she knew for it all to end soon. A timid knock at the door forced Dasha to wipe away her tears. She exhaled deeply, then said: — Come in. Expecting a nurse or, at worst, her father, Dasha was surprised to see a complete stranger. — Can I help you? — Who could know how hard it was to keep up her mask of cool composure! — I just overheard… By complete accident! The doctors were talking in the corridor… — The woman fidgeted, clearly not sure how to voice her question. — Yes, I want to give up the baby. It’s true. Is that what you wanted to know? — I saw your mum… — She’s not my mum! — snapped Dasha, the mask cracking in a flash. — Just my stepmother who thinks the world revolves around her. My actual mum works abroad. — I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, — the woman stammered. — It’s just… I have three kids of my own, and I can’t understand… I grew up in care, and I’m worried for your little one. She’s blameless in all this! — Babies this little are adopted quickly, that’s what they told me. — Dasha shrugged. — And I can’t even force myself to hold her, let alone more than that. If Natasha hadn’t got involved back then, I wouldn’t even be here right now. — But you’re old enough to decide for yourself — you’re over fifteen, aren’t you? — It’s such a scandal! — Dasha mimicked her stepmother’s tone. — What will people say? — I don’t understand… — I’ll tell you, — Dasha gave a crooked smile. — Maybe then you’ll stop judging me. ***************************************************** Dasha’s last year at school had gone terribly. On top of her beloved Pasha being conscripted into the army, a new boy joined the class. Fresh from London, his wealthy dad had exiled him to the provinces as punishment. His reputation for chasing girls had already gotten him into trouble. Mak was flashy: expensive gifts, club nights, posh dinners. One by one, the girls fell for his act, each thinking she’d be his princess. Dasha was the only one who resisted. She was in love; she wanted no one but Pasha. Eventually, it seemed Mak had accepted she was off-limits and set his sights elsewhere. Or so she thought. How wrong she was. The trouble started at a friend’s birthday party just before Christmas. The whole class was there, including Mak, but he was clearly up to something. Halfway through the evening, Dasha left the room to take a call. When she returned, Mak was sat in her seat. She didn’t think anything of it… but soon began to feel ill… In the morning, Dasha woke groggy and confused — Mak lying beside her, grinning. — See? You put up such a fight for nothing, — he said as if nothing unusual had happened. — Consider this some compensation. I’m honestly surprised. Your Pasha’s a real mug. Getting home was a nightmare. She could hardly stand, and passersby looked at her with disgust. Too weak to fish out her keys, she rang the doorbell. She was certain her stepmother would answer. — Out all night, not answering your phone, and look at the state of you! Your dad would have a fit if he saw you! — snapped Natasha. — Get a doctor and the police, — Dasha interrupted. — I want to report it. He needs locking up. Natasha hesitated, then, piecing things together, came to her own conclusions. — Who? — Mak, who else? — Even speaking made Dasha queasy. — No one else would dare. Call them, or I’ll do it myself. — Let’s not rush things, — Natasha calculated quickly. — He’ll just get away with it. Let’s do things differently. I’ll contact his father and ask for compensation. — You’re mad! — Dasha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. — What compensation? I’ll go to the police myself! — No you won’t! — Natasha yanked Dasha to her room. She hadn’t the energy to resist. — You’ll just get blamed — everyone will gossip. I’ll handle it. With no phone and the door locked by her stepmother, escape was impossible. Her head spinning, Dasha collapsed onto her bed. A few days later, she was sent to her grandmother’s, a hundred miles away. She pretended nothing was wrong to save the old woman worry. A month on, Dasha got the worst news imaginable. That night had left its mark — she was having a baby. Natasha was ecstatic: this baby would set the family up for life! The grandfather would pay handsomely to protect his son. Keep quiet until the fifth month, was the plan. Dasha’s wishes? Ignored. At word that she might want to terminate, Natasha kicked up a huge fuss and watched her every move. The grandfather was none too happy but coughed up money, promising more to come. **************************************************** — So you see? — Dasha’s voice was bitter. — I’ve been through hell because of this baby. Pasha dumped me. My friends turned their backs. We had to move. I didn’t even get to finish school! — I’m sorry, — the woman replied quietly. — I blamed you without knowing. — Dasha, we need to talk! — Natasha barged into the room, dragging her husband. — Visitors out, this is a family matter! With a sympathetic look, the stranger left, closing the door behind her. — I won’t let you ruin my plans. Leave that baby here, and you’re not coming home. And where will you go? Your beloved gran’s gone, her flat’s gone to your uncle. You’ll be on the streets! — No — she’s coming with me. — A well-dressed woman strode into the ward. Dasha’s eyes lit up with joy. — Mum! You came! — Of course, darling. I couldn’t leave you to struggle. — Albina hugged her tight. — If only you’d told me sooner, I’d have taken you home right away. I thought it would be easier for you to finish school here. — I thought you didn’t want me, — Dasha sobbed, for all the world still a child. — Someone told me you wanted nothing to do with me. My gifts sent back unopened, you never picked up. I thought you couldn’t forgive me. Well, never mind, — she wiped Dasha’s tears. — We’ll go, and you’ll forget all this… *************************************************** Dasha left. Natasha kept the baby, still dreaming of easy money. But when the powerful grandfather learned the truth, he came and took the baby. Mak was made to accept his responsibility, though he fought it. Dasha is happy now. She’s finally living with the one person who’ll never let her down…

Another Woman’s Son — Your husband is the father of my child. With these startling words, a stranger approached Christine as she quietly enjoyed her lunch. Making herself comfortable across from her, the woman seemed to wait for any kind of reaction to her bold claim. “And how old is your little one?” Christine replied, completely unphased, as though such announcements were an everyday occurrence. “Eight,” Marina answered, pursing her lips in frustration. This was not the shock or outrage she had been expecting! No denial, no accusations, not even a hint of disdain? “Wonderful,” Christine smiled slightly and returned to her delicious cherry pie — served only at this particular café. “We’ve only been married for three years, so anything that happened before me isn’t relevant. Just one question — does Arthur know?” “No,” the woman retorted, leaning back in her chair. “But it doesn’t matter! I’m demanding child maintenance! He will pay, do you understand?” “He will, of course,” Christine agreed. “My husband adores children, and if he’d known sooner, he certainly would have wanted to be part of your son’s life. What’s his name, by the way?” “Ethan,” Marina replied automatically, then frowned. “Don’t you care that your darling husband has a child with another woman?” “As I said, anything before our marriage doesn’t concern me,” Christine’s soft smile didn’t leave her lips. “I knew perfectly well I was marrying a grown man, not some innocent lad. Naturally, he had a past, and that doesn’t bother me. What matters is that I’m the only one now.” “Fine. See you in court. You’d better get ready to fork out, because I’ll be demanding everything my son is legally entitled to.” With that, Marina left, leaving behind an overpowering scent of perfume. Christine struggled not to grimace — it was as if the woman had doused herself in half a bottle. “Go ahead, try your luck,” Christine mused philosophically, finishing the last bite of her pie. “I wonder how you’ll react when you find out Arthur’s official salary is only thirty thousand? The business is in his father’s name… Plus, he’s caring for his elderly, ill mum at the moment. You’ll barely see a penny.” Christine even felt a little sorry for the innocent boy. Maybe she should pay them a visit, see how they lived, and perhaps arrange a decent monthly sum for the child — provided Ethan really was Arthur’s son. She’d met women like this before… ********************* The DNA test was done quickly — when you have money, many things are resolved with the snap of a finger. The result was clear: Ethan was indeed Arthur’s son. In fact, Christine found the boy unnervingly quiet and withdrawn. What eight-year-old sits motionless and silent for ninety minutes while paperwork is filled out? He didn’t ask for cartoons, didn’t run about, didn’t make a sound… Nothing like other kids his age forced to wait around. It was odd. Christine was now even more certain she should visit this new “relative.” The flat was in a posh part of town, with a concierge at the entrance, two bedrooms, modern decor, everything top-notch. Christine made note of these things, unable to fathom why a woman living in such comfort could complain of being hard up. “Court’s in a week,” Marina grumbled, letting her in. “You could have waited to talk there.” “I wanted to get to know Ethan a bit better. Arthur is keen to be involved in his life — maybe take him on weekends, once he’s settled.” “As if I’d let him!” Marina bristled. “The court will decide,” Christine replied coolly. “He’s the boy’s father — it’s his right. But… I don’t see a single toy around here?” “I don’t have spare money for that nonsense,” Marina said dismissively. “Can barely afford him clothes, never mind toys.” “Seriously?” Christine glanced pointedly at Marina’s designer handbag, the expensive clothes strewn over the sofa, the premium cosmetics beside the mirror. “You’re short of cash?” “I’m still young. I want a family — that’s not your business,” Marina snapped, bristling at Christine’s tone. “And who looks after your son while you’re out at all hours?” Christine pressed, beginning to understand why Ethan seemed so quiet and detached. “He’s not a baby. Can stay by himself,” Marina muttered. “Is that all? See you in court!” “I’ll insist you’re accountable for every penny given for Ethan’s upkeep,” said Christine, fighting the urge to stay any longer. She was horrified by the woman’s attitude towards her own child. “I doubt you’ll be pleased with what the judge decides…” ********************** “…the court has ruled: Marina Lipova’s claim is granted in part. Arthur Malin is recognised as the father of Ethan Lipov. The register office is to amend the birth certificate accordingly. The claim for maintenance is denied. Arthur Malin’s counterclaim for residence is granted…” Christine smiled contentedly — she had achieved her goal. Ethan would live with them. Some might judge her for “taking a child away from his mother,” but it was the right thing to do. All of Marina’s neighbours agreed the boy was unwanted — she’d scream at him for no reason, hit him openly, heedless of witnesses. The child psychologist insisted Ethan needed to be removed for his own welfare. His teachers and former childminders said the same. Now Ethan would have his own spacious room, stacks of toys, a computer… And, most importantly, the love of parents he’d never felt before, as both Arthur and Christine were now utterly smitten with this wonderful little boy.