“July seventh! It cant be! Just a coincidence. But the name Andrew, too. The middle and last names are different. Though adoptive parents can change those, cant they? Even the first name…” She stared at the mans portrait for a long time, as if hoping to find something familiar.
The woman in the HR department of the town hall processed the paperwork for the new employee, then picked up the phone.
“Mrs. Innes, could you pop in? Your new cleaner is here.”
Soon, a brisk woman strode into the office and immediately addressed the newcomera woman of a certain age.
“You’re the new cleaner?”
“Yes!”
“I’m the facilities managerInnes Margaret. And you are?”
“Vera,” she replied, catching the expectant pause in her bosss gaze. “Vera Louise.”
“Right then, come along. Ill show you your domain.” They stepped out, still chatting. “Youll be responsible for the entire third floor…”
***
Vera was over the moon about landing the job. Smiling to herself, she surveyed her new territory.
“Two years till retirement, and I might even stay on after. Eight hundred quid a month, plus bonuses! At least Derek and I can manage comfortably now. The kids are grown and gone. Blimey, I dont even know the mayors name! How embarrassing if someone asks. Lunch soonIll check the photos of past mayors on the ground floor. Howd I miss that?”
***
On her way back from the canteen, she paused by the display and read the current mayors name: “Andrew Benjamin… born 1983.”
“Goodness, hes young. Not even forty,” Vera thought, then froze. “Andrew? 1983?”
She turned back, double-checking the birthdate.
“July seventh! It cant be! Just a coincidence. But the name Andrew, too. The middle and last names are different. Though adoptive parents can change those, cant they? Even the first name…”
She stared at the portrait, willing it to reveal something.
***
The new job kept her busy, pushing stray thoughts aside.
That evening, she chatted with Derek for hours before he retreated to his room for football, and she to hers.
Their three-bed house felt spacious now the kids had moved out. Derek still shared her bed occasionally, though less and less.
Now, lying alone, her mind wandered back to her youthand the secret shed never shared with her husband.
Shed had a son before Derek. Andrew. Shed been just nineteenno job, no money, stuck in a student dorm utterly unfit for a baby. Shed lasted six months before giving him up.
Three years later, she married Derek. They never pried into each others pasts. Soon, they had two daughters.
The girls grew up. One married a university lecturer; grandkids were in school now. The other lived in London.
Vera herself never landed a proper career. Twenty years as a facilities manager at a factory, then redundancy when it went bust. A friends daughter suggested this cleaning job at the council. She took it.
And now… Mayor Andrew Benjamin, born 1983. Not that Vera complained about her life. But shed never forgotten her son. Hed even appeared in dreams. She just wanted to knowwas this him? Was he alright?
***
Days passed.
Vera was dusting her floor when voices caught her ear. Mayor Andrew strode past, mid-conversation. Spotting her, he nodded and carried on.
Suddenly, she saw Victorthe boy shed loved forty years ago. Handsome, carefreenothing like the serious man shed imagined hed become. Now, looking at Andrew, she realised this was exactly how shed once pictured Victor.
But Victor had vanished the moment he learned she was pregnant, promising to “sort things out.” Shed waited. Then understood hed bolted.
“Is Andrew Benjamin my son?
If I hadnt given him up, would he be mayor? But my girls turned out fine. The eldest has a big house, a car. The youngers doing well too. Daughters… but no son.
Would I even have married Derek otherwise? Noeverything wouldve been different. For me, for Derek, for Andrew. Or maybe this isnt him. Arent coincidences strange?
Does it matter? He has parentshe was only six months old. Theyve probably never told him. Different surname. He mustve had a happy childhood. Not every lad becomes mayor.
***
After lunch, her young colleague Emma approached.
“Hi, Auntie Vera!”
“Hi, love.”
“Were celebrating Lucys 45th on Fridayshe cleans the sixth floor. Fancy joining?”
“Course!” Vera smiled.
“Brilliant. Just chip in twenty quid, and bring something nicea salad, maybe?”
“Righto.” Vera fished out the cash.
“We do birthdays for everyone.”
“Emma, just call me Vera. Were mates here.”
“Sure thing, Vera!”
***
Come Friday, they gathered in an empty seventh-floor office after work. Table set, drinks poured.
Toasts followed sips of wine.
Then the door swung openMayor Andrew walked in.
“Happy birthday, Lucy!” He handed her a small gift.
“Thank you, sir!” Lucys eyes gleamed.
“Join us, sir!” urged the facilities manager.
“Just for a bit,” he agreed, taking the seat beside Vera.
She piled salad and ham onto a clean plate. Wine was poured. The mayor gave a toast.
Vera watched him, heart trembling. This was her son. She knew it now.
***
Andrew stayed twenty minutes, then excused himself.
“What a man!” sighed Cathy, the office gossip. “The old mayor wouldnt have given us the time of day.”
“How longs Andrew been here?” Vera asked.
“A year. Dont you remember voting last year?”
Truthfully, Vera didnt. Derek handled such things.
“His parents are loaded, proper posh,” Cathy added. “But guess what? Theyre not his real parents.”
“No!” Lucy gasped.
“Found out during the election. Rumor is, he didnt even know. And get thishe didnt bat an eyelid.”
“Cathy, how dyou know this?”
“The old mayors deputy, Olivia, dug up dirt to keep her boss in power. Didnt work, did it?”
“So he still doesnt know who his real parents are?” Vera pressed.
“Seems not. Adores the ones who raised him. Proper decent chap, our mayor.”
Vera gazed at the door, heart both full and aching. Fullher son had done well. Achingshed never hold him. Her fault. She smiled inwardly.
“I wont bother you, son. Ill just… be here.”
