I wont give her up to anyone.
My stepfather never treated us badly. He certainly never withheld a crust of bread, nor did he get angry about my coursework. The only thing that triggered him was me coming home later than agreed.
“I promised your mother I’d keep an eye on you!” hed shout whenever I tried to remind him I was a grown-up now. “And I know better whats good for youdont think youre grown just because youve got your exam results. Get a proper job, then maybe you can act like an adult!”
After hed cooled off, hed talk more calmly: That boyfriend of yours will drop you, mark my words. You think I dont see what hes like, turning up in that fancy BMW, good-looking, all smooth talk. Why would a lad like him want a plain Jane like you, Emma? Youll be in tears before long, remember I said.
I didnt believe him. Okay, Daniel was handsome, studying in his third year at universitypaying his way, mind, and I wouldnt have minded paying either if Id got in. I missed out on the competition, hated the college I ended up in, so now I handed out leaflets, delivered newspapers, and crammed for re-sits. Thats how I met Danielhe took one leaflet after another, then smiled and said, Tell you what, Ill take all your leaflets if you come have coffee with us.
I dont know what came over me, but I agreed. I didnt dare ditch the leaflets in that area, already burned by experience, so I stuffed them in my rucksack and later slipped them down the rubbish shoot.
At the café, Daniel introduced me to his mates, treated us to pizza and ice cream. My sister and I only tasted things like that on birthdayswe never had spare money. My stepdad forbade us to spend our inherited pension, said wed need it for a rainy day.
His salary was all right, but half of it went on that car of his, always in the garage, and the rest he gambled away on bets. I didnt complainat least he hadnt thrown us out, it was his flat after all. Mums had to be sold when she fell ill. Of course, I dreamed of chocolate, pizza, fizzy drinks, but when there was any treat I always gave it to my younger sister, Lucy. Even at the café I asked Daniel if I could take a piece of pizza home for her. He looked so surprised and then handed me an entire pizza and a massive chocolate bar.
My stepdad was wrong about Daniel. He was kind. Being with him made me more determinedI started working harder for my exams, even got a job as a cashier at Sainsburys. The pay meant I could buy new jeans and have my hair done at a proper salonso hed be proud of me.
When Daniel invited me for a weekend at his familys cottage, I knew what was coming, but I wasnt scared. I was no kid anymore. We loved each other, after all. I did worry my stepdad wouldnt let me go, but by then he was hardly ever home, sometimes not at all. I knew he was staying at Aunt Lindas; she was a nurse from our surgery. Hed always been awkwardly sweet on her, and though she hadnt wanted to get involved with a bloke with two daughters from his first marriage, shed given in in the end.
It actually worked in my favourthough Lucy sobbed when she found out shed have to sleep alone. I bought her chocolate, crisps, fizzy pop, and she settled.
It took me ages to realise I was pregnant. My cycled always been erratic, and no one ever taught me to keep track. Veronica, the other cashierMrs Robinsonjoked one day: Youre glowing, Emma! And youre filling outhavent got a baby on the way, have you?
We laughed, but that night I bought a test. When I saw those two lines I was floored. Impossible!
Daniel wasnt pleased. Said it was terrible timing and handed me money for the doctor. I cried all night and went to the clinic. Too latesixteen weeks gone. It mustve happened at the cottage. Id thought you couldnt get pregnant from the first time.
For a while I managed to hide it from my stepdad, but my belly grew fast. Eventually I confessed.
He exploded.
So wheres your lad now? Planning to marry you, is he?
I lowered my eyes. Daniel hadnt seen me for a monthvanished when he learned Id be keeping the baby.
My stepdad shook his head. I did warn you, Emma
He didnt reply straight away. Probably ran it by Aunt Linda. Well, if thats how it isyoull have to leave the baby at the hospital. I cant manage another mouth. BesidesIm getting married. Lindas expecting twins. Three babies in one house? Forget it.
Shes moving in, then? I asked, shocked.
Of course. Shes my wife now. Where else would she live?
I thought he was joking. He wasnt. Every day now he threatened to throw me and Lucy out if I brought the baby home. I knew it wasnt really himhe was parroting Linda. But it didnt change anythingI couldnt leave my child behind.
Linda tried reassuring me. Babies like that are in high demand, you know. Shell be adopted straight awayand loved like their own.
I wept, phoned Daniel, brainstormed ways for me, Lucy, and the baby to live somewhere, but nothing made sense. Then, one day, Mrs Robinson pointed out an older couple in dark clothes.
Still in black after all these yearsdrowning in their grief. Why not have another child? Or adopt?
Id seen the couple oftentogether and separately. Politely sad, pleasant, but I had no idea of their story.
Their daughter died, remember? That awful coach crashkids going to Yorkshire for a trip, driver nodded off, crash. Their girl diedso sad. Good people, too: hes a GP, she teaches English. I used to live next door, when I was married. Its all a long time ago now. We all came over then, brought her little angel statuesher daughter had bought one on the trip and was clutching it when she died. After that people brought more. I worried itd make things worse, but it seemed to help.
Id seen something like this in a moviea girl giving up her child to a couple unable to have one. This couple could have kids, no doubt, but somehow I kept thinking about them.
I was eight months gone now, still workingI didnt want to lose my job. One afternoon, the couple stood at my till and the man asked gently, Shouldnt you be on maternity leave soon, dear? Youll have the baby here if youre not careful.
I didnt complain, but truthfully work was exhaustingmy back was killing me, my heartburn was dreadful, feet swollen by bedtime. No one ever asked about me, only the local GP nagged me, but that didnt count. His kindness made my eyes stingI cried all the time lately.
A couple of days later, as I struggled home with shopping, the same man overtook me and offered to help. Awkward, but sweet all the same. I thought, Hes a good man.
I saw an angel figurine in a shop windowmarked down, leftover summer stock I suppose. On impulse, I bought it, then got their address from Mrs Robinson and walked over.
I panicked when I pressed the bellwas this terribly insensitive, bringing a statue, after all these years? Surely no one did that anymore.
A kind, softly sad woman opened the door. I think she recognised me at onceher eyebrows lifted. I fumbled and held out the figurine, unable to meet her eyes, braced for a slammed door or a scolding.
But neither happened. She took the angel, smiled warmly, and said, Come in. Fancy a cuppa?
Over the tea, she told her storythe same Id heard, but worse, more raw coming from her.
Why didnt you have another? I whispered.
I had a terrible labour. They had to do a hysterectomy. I cant have any more.
I suddenly felt ashamed for intruding. I wanted to ask about adoption, but couldnt speak.
We did consider adopting, she said, as if reading my mind. Even did all the courses. But at the last minute, I couldnt. I asked my daughter for a signbut nothing happened.
Just then, a crash from another roomthe sound of broken glass. The woman flinched, I stared, sure no one else was home.
We walked to the front room. I expected a shrinedark, candles, endless photos. But only one photo, a bright room, no candles; just a collection of little angels. One lay shattered on the floor. The woman picked up the porcelain pieces, turning them over.
In a weird voice she murmured, Its her angel. That same one.
My cheeks burned. Was that not a sign?
I had a girl, right on time. By then Aunt Linda was settled in our flat and had her twins prematurely. Her babies were still in hospital; theyd bought cute white cots with coconut mattresses. No one bought anything for my girlthey expected me to leave her in hospital. Lucy would whisper at night:
Cant we hide her, Em? So they wont know shes here? Ill help.
I wanted to sob, but held it in for Lucys sake.
Id drafted the note ahead of time. I wrote that I couldnt keep my baby, that she was healthy, not to worry. I mentioned the signthe fallen angel. I added all the pension savings my stepdad refused to let us touch. It should be enoughthey seemed like good people.
I was discharged in the morning, but leaving a child in broad daylight terrified me. I spent the whole day in the shopping centre; hard as it was to sit, dizzy and worn out. But my daughter needed loving parents.
When the centre closed, I sat another hour outside. At last, with dusk settling over the city, I slipped through their building as a man with a terrier exited for his walk.
Id bought a carrier for my daughterasked Mrs Robinson to bring it on the big day. She didnt ask questions. Now, I set the carrier by the door, tucked the envelope of money and letter under her quilt, about to ring and dashwhen the door opened.
The father stood there.
What are you doing out here?
I jumped. He saw the carrier.
Whats this?
The tears just came and I poured my heart outabout Daniel gone, my stepdad marrying and forcing us out, Linda and her twins, the pressure to give her up.
He listened quietly. Then said, Gails asleep. Well speak in the morning. Come onIll set the sofa for you.
Sleeping in a room with dozens of porcelain angels felt surreal, but I drifted off clinging to my daughter.
I woke to emptiness. My baby was gone. Suddenly, I knewId never let her go. Not ever. I wanted to leap up, hunt through the flat, get her back
Before I could move, Gail came in, holding my daughter.
Here you go, she smiled. Time for a feed. I rocked her for a while, wanted you to sleep, but shes not going to wait.
As I fed my little girl, I couldnt look at Gail. What if theyd decided to keep her? How could I say Id changed my mind?
How olds your sister? Gail asked, out of the blue.
Twelve, I replied, startled.
Do you think shed want to move in with us too?
I stared, confused.
What?
Sasha told me everything. That youve nowhere to go, stepdad is kicking you out. I figure, if your sister stays, theyll turn her into a housemaid. Better shes here as well.
What do you mean, also? I stammered.
Gail nodded at the mended figurine beside the photo. I think that was your sign. Were meant to help. We’ve got plenty of space, just move in. Ill help with your baby. And these silly ideas of yoursdon’t ever separate a mother and child.
Relief and embarrassment rushed over me, my cheeks flaming.
So, will you?
I nodded, burying my face in my daughters blanket so Gail wouldnt see my tears.
