In our family, four generations of men have worked on the railway! And what have you contributed? Margarets voice rang out, cold and sharp, as she hurled the ultrasound scan onto the kitchen table.
Emily, Rebecca whispered, stroking her rounded belly. Well call her Emily.
Emily Margaret repeated, dragging out the name. Well, at least its a sensible name. But honestly, whats the use? Whos ever going to need your Emily?
James buried his face in his phone, silent, pretending to scroll through news. When his wife turned to him, searching for any support, he simply shrugged, It is what it is. Maybe next time itll be a boy.
Rebecca felt something twist deep inside. Next time? Did this tiny baby not matter was she just a dress rehearsal?
Emily arrived in January, small and fragile, with enormous blue eyes and a wild shock of dark hair. James showed up at the hospital discharge grumbling and anxious, with a half-wilted bouquet of carnations and a bundle of baby clothes.
Shes gorgeous, he said awkwardly, peering over the pram. Looks like you.
Except theres your nose, Rebecca smiled gently. And such a stubborn jaw.
Oh, give over, James scoffed, waving her off. All babies look the same at this age.
At home, Margaret met the returning trio with a pinched frown.
The neighbour, Mrs. Jenkins, asked if it was a grandson or granddaughter. I was embarrassed to tell her, she muttered, gathering up post. At my age, playing with dolls again
Rebecca retreated to the nursery, tears escaping as she pressed her child close, hiding in the cocoon of soft toys and gentle breathing.
James worked longer hours, picking up overtime and shifts in the neighbouring yards. He said it was expensive having a family, especially with a new baby. Nights, hed come home late, exhausted and silent, barely grunting a greeting.
She waits for you, you know, Rebecca would say as James crossed past the nursery, barely glancing inside. Emily lights up when she hears your footsteps.
Im shattered, Becky. Ive got to be up early tomorrow.
But you didnt even say hello
She wont know any different. Shes just a baby.
But Emily did know. Rebecca caught the way her daughters head would swivel towards the door at the sound of heavy boots, then linger there blankly when nothing followed.
At eight months old, Emily grew ill. Her temperature crept up to one hundred, then one hundred and two. Rebecca rang the NHS helpline, paced the hall, nursed anxiously with Calpol. By morning, Emily burned with fever her skin nearly untouchable.
James, get up! Rebecca shook her husband. Emilys so poorly!
What time is it? James croaked, shielding his eyes from dawns pale light.
Seven. I havent slept all night. We need to get her to hospital!
Isnt it too early? Cant we wait till this evening? Ive got a really important shift today…
Rebecca looked at him like he was a stranger. Your daughters boiling with fever, and youre thinking about your shift?
Shes not dying! Babies get poorly all the time.
Rebecca ordered a taxi herself.
In hospital, doctors took them straight to a private room. Something serious, they whispered possibly meningitis. They needed to do a lumbar puncture.
Wheres Emilys father? the consultant asked. We require consent from both parents for the procedure.
He hes working. Hell be here soon.
Rebecca called James all day. His phone stayed off, voicemail intercepting every desperate ring. At seven in the evening, when darkness pressed against the windows, he finally picked up.
Becky, Im at the depot, just
James, its meningitis! They need your consent for a spinal tap. You have to come, now. The doctors are waiting!
What? Spinal what? I dont understand
Just come! Please!
I cant. My shifts until eleven tonight, and the lads were expecting me afterwards
Rebecca hung up in silence.
She signed the papers herselfher right, as Emilys mother. The procedure happened under general anaesthetic, Emily so tiny and lost on a bed far too large, tubes snaking from her thin hands.
Well have results tomorrow, the doctor promised gently. If it is meningitis, itll be a long spell. Six weeks or more under hospital care.
Rebecca stayed the night, dozing upright in a hospital chair. Emily lay pale beneath monitors, little chest fluttering up and down, arm gently bandaged.
James arrived at lunchtime the next day, unshaven and rumpled.
Hows hows she doing? He hovered in the doorway, avoiding Rebeccas eyes.
Not well, Rebecca answered curtly. Still waiting for the results.
What what did they do? The um
Spinal tap. They took fluid from her spine.
James went pale. Was it painful for her?
She didnt feel a thing. Anaesthetic.
He crept to Emilys bedside and paused. Emilys tiny hand lay limp on the blanket, a cannula taped to her wrist.
Shes shes so little, James murmured. I never thought
Rebecca said nothing.
At last, results brought relief. No meningitis. Just a nasty virus, serious but manageable. They could go home in a few days, under the GPs regular care.
You were lucky, the consultant told them softly. Another day or twos delay, and it might have been very different.
James stayed quiet on the drive home, rattling down terraced streets. Before they crossed the threshold, he spoke at last:
Am am I really that dreadful? As a father?
Rebecca shifted the sleeping Emily, looking hard at her husband. What do you think?
I thought there was plenty of time. That she was too little to know anything. But now He trailed off. Seeing her with all those wires, I realised I could lose her. And that I I have something to lose.
James, she needs a father. Not just someone to bring home a paycheque. She needs you to know her favourite toys, to say her name. To be there.
Well, what are her favourite toys? he whispered, voice trembling.
Her squeaky hedgehog and the rattle with bells. Every time you come home, she wriggles towards the door, waiting for you to scoop her up.
James bowed his head.
I never knew
Now you do.
Back home, Emily awoke and started sobbingthin, desperate. James, uncertain, reached for her, then hesitated.
Is it alright? he asked Rebecca.
Shes your daughter, she replied softly.
Gently, James gathered Emily up. The girl whimpered once, then fell silent, gazing at her father with wide, earnest eyes.
Hello, my little one, James whispered. Im sorry I wasnt there when you needed me.
Emily reached out, touching his cheek with a tiny, wondering hand. James felt emotion tighten in his chest.
Daddy, Emily said suddenlyclear and bright.
It was her first word.
James looked at Rebecca, eyes wide with disbelief.
She did she just say?
Shes been saying it all week, Rebecca smiled. But only when you arent home. Seems she was waiting for the right moment.
That night, when Emily drifted off to sleep against her fathers chest, James carried her to the cot, laying her down with care. She gripped his finger tighter as she dreamed.
She doesnt want to let go, he whispered, awestruck.
Shes afraid youll disappear again, Rebecca answered quietly.
James stayed by the cot, not daring to pull his hand free, sitting in half-darkness and listening to his daughters breathing.
Tomorrow, Ill take a day off, he told his wife. And maybe the next as well. I want I need to know my daughter.
But what about work? The extra shifts?
Well make do with less, if we have to. What matters most is not missing her growing up.
Rebecca put her arms around him. Better late than never.
I could never forgive myself, if something happened and I didnt even know her favourite toys. Or that she could say Daddy, James whispered, watching Emily sleep.
A week later, after Emily fully recovered, the three of them strolled in the park. Emily sat high on her fathers shoulders, peals of laughter echoing as she snatched at the autumn leaves.
Look, Emily! Arent the maples grand? Over there, see a squirrel? James pointed, his face lit with wonder.
Rebecca walked quietly beside them, thinking that sometimes, you had to nearly lose what mattered most to realise just how precious it truly was.
They returned home to find Margaret waiting, face thunderous.
James, Mrs. Jenkins tells me her grandsons already playing football. And yours only plays with dolls.
My daughters perfect, James said firmly, settling Emily on the floor and handing her the squeaky hedgehog. And dolls are wonderful.
But the family line
Itll carry on. Not as youd pictured, but it will.
Margaret started to argue, but Emily crawled over, arms raised.
Gran! she called, beaming.
Flustered, Margaret gathered her granddaughter into her lap.
She she talks! she gasped.
Our Emilys a clever one, James said proudly. Isnt she, darling?
Daddy! Emily replied, clapping chubby hands.
Rebecca watched them, realising that happiness sometimes blossoms out of hardship. The most enduring love was the kind that grew slowly, painfully, born of fear and almost-loss.
That evening, as he tucked Emily in, James softly hummed her a lullaby. His voice was hoarse, unpractised, but Emily listened, eyes wide open with trust.
Youve never sung to her before, Rebecca said gently.
Theres a lot Ive never done, James murmured. But now Ive a chance to make up for what I missed.
Emily drifted off, hands wrapped tightly around her fathers finger. James stayed like that in the darkness, letting the world slip away, thinking of all hed nearly missed by not noticing what truly mattered.
Emily, safe at last, smiled in her dreamsknowing now, for certain, that her father would never stray far again.
Sometimes, fate doesnt just ask for a choice, but a great trial, to awaken the brightest feelings in a soul. Do you believe someone can change, once they realise how close they came to losing what they love most?
