My name is William. I’ve always felt extraordinarily fortunate in my life, for I managed to become both a father and a husband. I married Alice, a girl I loved ever since we were teenagers. She loyally awaited me while I was away at university, and, upon my return, we were wed.
Our firstborn, Edward, came into the world. Three years later, our second son, Henry, joined our growing family. But my heart harboured a peculiar yearning: I desperately wished for a daughter. Even during Alices first pregnancy, Id tell everyone how much I longed for a little girl. People would cock an eyebrow at this, for its said most Englishmen hope for sons. Yet my dreams danced with pink bows and fairy tales. But fate had Alice deliver a boy. And then, three years later, another son arrived.
Alice and I shared a lovely life, our boys flourished. Then, out of the blue, Alice shared some startling news: she was expecting again. The world seemed to shimmer strangely at the edges, like stained glass in sunlight. Wed never planned for a third child, but I was elated nonetheless by my darlings unexpected pregnancy.
Surely its a girl this time, Will! Alice beamed, her words floating by softly, as if riding the notes of a wind chime.
Both my mother and Alices mother would gently prod Alices belly and declare with cryptic wisdom that this time there was no doubta daughter. Even the scans at the hospital agreed. We all awaited the girl with mounting excitement. Our sons mulled over names for their soon-to-arrive sister, whispering ideas at bedtime.
At the appointed moment, Alice went into labour, and I bundle her into the car, weaving through the roads shrouded in London fog. That evening, I paced our hallway restlessly, sleep banished by anticipation and worry. The air felt thick with possibility. By morning, I rang the hospital, the voice on the other end announcing that my son had arrived, weighing 7 pounds, standing (so to speak) at 21 inches.
I almost laughed at the impossibility of it. Surely, someone was jesting? Wed been promised a girl. Yet, once again, I was the father of a boy. None of our friends or families expected it. How, in this patchwork reality, had even the sonographer made a blunder? When I called Alice, confusion muddled my words:
Did you have a little secret with the chap next door? I joked, the words tumbling out awkwardly.
What on earth are you on about, Will? Alice said, her voice tinged with hurt, Youve gone barmy! We were supposed to have a girl!
She cut the call. Silence pressed in, heavy as a hedgerow after rain.
Eventually, Alice was discharged; I brought her and our son home. She unfurled the baby from his swaddling, his tiny features almost dreamlike in their freshness, as if hed been plucked directly from a misty meadow. Instantly, all doubts melted, and I adored him with inexplicable warmth.
Four and a half years glided by, almost as if I was watching puddles form and fade on the village green. I was teaching our youngest, Jackas wed christened himto ride a scooter. He hardly resembled me at all, sharing only a fleeting similarity to Alice, while Edward and Henry had inherited my looks entirely.
Then, as if plucked from a faraway dream, I overheard the grandmothers chattering near the postbox, their voices curling like smoke in the mid-morning air.
Have you noticed how little Jack looks like David from Number Seven?
A sting of uncertainty pricked at me, and later, I broached the subject with Alice.
Youre having a go at me again? How could you even ask such a thing, William? How dare you think Id be unfaithful? This is utter rubbish! Just because David once gave me a lift when I was pregnant and poorly? Is that a crime now?
Caught in a whirl of doubt, we argued more fiercely than ever before. The idea of a DNA test floated between us like a menacing cloud. Alice refused at first, but fortnight later she changed her mind, vowing to leave me if I went through with it. I began to wonder if Id lost myself in the brambles of suspicion.
One day, whilst taking out the rubbish, I spied David. There he wasthirty-five, still a bachelor, eyes more crinkled from laughter than worry. I examined him, trying to unearth some similarity between him and Jack, but found nothing at all.
Back in the kitchen, Jack dashed over, leapt onto my lap, and began chattering about pigeons in Trafalgar Square. All at once, a strange sense of calm blanketed me, as if the world had spun me gently back to a place of truth. What was I doing? No need for tests. This was my son. My heart simply knew it. Scooping him up, I strode into the bedroom where Alice sat.
No tests, I declared.
Oh, so now were not doing it! Alice huffed. I was willing! Just to set your mind at rest!
I spent the next week apologizing for doubting her, my words awkward but sincere. Forgiveness took time, but Alice granted it.
The years drifted by. Edward married, and soon after, his wife was expecting. The day we met our granddaughter, I felt the dream-world shimmer in real sunlight: at last, a little girl to dote upon! My heart ached with happinessyet, in truth, I loved her no more than I loved my three wild, precious sons.
