A Daughter Shared by Two
Between Margaret and Andrew, love sparked instantly, aflame from the first glance. They had been seeing each other for just a month when, during a peculiar evening, Andrew suddenly announced:
Maggie, will you be my wife? And she was utterly bewildered.
What? How can I be your wife? Weve only been together a month.
So what? That month has been enough for me to know youre my destiny I need no one else. For me there simply arent other girls.
Oh, Andrew, actually I suppose I agree, she laughed quietly, nestling into his chest.
Margaret, havent you rushed into this? her mother questioned suspiciously, are you expecting, perhaps?
Mum, honestly, what are you on about? Of course not. Andrew just said he cant live without meand I suppose I feel the same Its love, mum.
Those who wondered about their hasty wedding soon understoodthe pair were simply meant for each other. Everything seemed right; you could see Andrew dote on Maggie, and she loved and cared for him in turn.
Their love was genuine, and sweet, but a shadow lingereda wish for children remained unfulfilled; the hoped-for pregnancy never arrived.
Andrew, perhaps we should have some tests done. There might be a reason why I cant conceive.
Im with you, her husband agreed instantly.
Hopeful visits, consultations, journeys, and prayersall to no avail. Margaret couldnt fall pregnant.
Maggie, Ive been thinking maybe we could go to the childrens home, take in a little one, raise them as our own, Andrew suggested gently.
Id like that, Margaret burst out, the idea already long nestled in her heartthough shed feared Andrew might not share it. Ive thought about that too
Lets go, then, Andrew said. And I know a placeI pass it coming back from business trips, thought about it each time.
When Margaret and Andrew came to the childrens home, amidst dozens of wary, tired little faces, there was a fair-haired three-year-old girl with blue eyes who ran straight to Margaret and wrapped herself around her knees.
Mummy! the girl said with delight, and Margaret could not let her go.
Thus came Lucy into their livesa lively, laughing girl whose giggles tinkled like brooks. Margaret finally felt true happiness, her maternal love bursting forth. She adored Lucy. Andrews heart was wrapped up in their new daughter as well.
All was well. Andrew and Margaret lived in a village where neighbours knew each other. Of course, manyespecially those closeknew Lucy was adopted. While Lucy was just a child, there were no troubles. But time passed; Lucy grew up and when she was at school, someone told her she was not their biological daughter, but adopted.
Lucy was fourteen then. She came home and erupted in tears and rage.
Mum, why did you and Dad never tell me Im not your daughter? I know you took me in from the childrens home
Lucy, darling, please calm down. We were waiting for you to be oldera little more ready. But since someone told you We always feared this day.
Lucy cried and shouted, then withdrew, then grew angry. The teenage years brought turbulenceshe slammed doors, sometimes snapped back at her parents.
Then, the unexpected: Andrew had an accident. Margaret was unable to grasp the newsher husband died on the road coming back from the city with a colleague before New Years, in a blizzard.
Andrew was often away on business, sometimes for a week. If delayed, hed send a postcardthis was the era before mobiles. Margaret was forty-six when her husband died. Instead of supporting her, Lucy ran wildleaving home, disappearing, defiant.
Margaret used her last reserves to reach her daughter, wept and begged, but never raised her voice. Thats how they lived together; Lucy matured quickly. Then, after finishing school, Lucy announced:
Im leaving for London, she said firmly.
Margaret looked up, weary, towel in hand.
Are you going to study, darling?
No, Im going to find my biological mother
Margarets breath caught. But why, Lucy? Am I not your mum?
Lucy leaned toward the window, silence stretching.
I must know who she is. I need to understand why she abandoned me. I have the right, mum.
You do, darling, Margaret said, realizing nothing would stop her.
Lucy was nearly nineteen. She packed her meager belongings in a small bag, kissed Margarets cheek, and promised to visit sometimes. Lucy left for the bus stop, and Margaret watched her daughter goher heart aching, left alone.
Many days passed, slow and somber. Margaret had long since retired and now spent evenings sorting Andrews old postcards, kept in a dusty toffee tin tied with ribbon. Not many remained, and the last was decorated with pine boughs, yellowed with age: Maggie, Ill be three days late, miss you, Andrew.
Margarets trembling fingers traced the card, pressing it to her chest as though to embrace her absent husband. Twenty-five years had passed since Andrews death.
Sitting by the window, memories pressed upon her. Shed grown fragile, once sitting by the village shop with the ladies, now rarely leaving the gatejust errands and home.
The window curtains stayed drawn, postbox empty, silence thick in the house. It brightened only when Lucy arrived with her children, though visits were scarce. A photograph of Andrew cradling little Lucy, both smiling, sat on the dresser.
Oh Andrew, you left too soon, you left me all alone, she would say softly. Now I am truly alone.
Only occasionally did Whiskers shatter the calmleaping off the sill, sometimes purring loudly beside Margaret. She fed Whiskers, drank her tea, and decided, Today I will go to the shop. Gazing one last time at the photograph, she sipped her tea.
Then, someone knocked at the gate. She remembered how Lucys departure had been abruptthe day she left to search for her birth mother. Replaying that morning: the skies grey, the house still, Margaret brewing tea when the knock arrived.
She slipped on her shoes, wrapped herself in her shawl and went out, opening the gate. A woman stood there, younger than Margaret, eyes deeply sad.
Hello Are you Margaret? the young womans voice quivered.
Yes, and you are?
The stranger shifted heavily from foot to foot.
Im Lucys mum well, I mean her other mumher biological one My name is Grace You understand, I suppose, she stammered.
A chill ran through Margaret. Lucy had left not long ago, and nowfor her own mother to stand herehow had she found her?
Is something wrong with Lucy, since youre here? Margaret fretted, She managed to find you then
Grace explained hurriedly, words colliding.
Lucys at hospital in London Its her stomach We were walking in the park, she grabbed her side, went pale, and sat on the bench. I called for an ambulance straight away.
They gazed silently at each other.
Lucy found me ages ago, but was afraid to tell you, Grace sniffed.
Oh dear, lets not stand outsidecome in, come in, Margaret said abruptly, unlocking the door, ushering her in.
She poured hot tea for Grace, who, settling at the table, spoke softly:
I was so young when I had Lucy. My parents were strict and forced my hand. My fiancé, when he knew I was pregnant, vanished, and my parents threatened to throw us both out. I signed the papers in the hospital So many years living with it Forgive me, thats not the point Lucy begged me to ask you to come to her in hospital.
Margaret stood up quickly.
Why hasnt she rung me?
Her phoneher bag was taken. Just before the ambulance, her things were on the bench; when I came back, they were gone
Oh heavens, my poor girl, whispered Margaret.
She gave me your address herself, said: Find my mum.
The women sat quietly, eyes meetingneither hostility, only worry and weariness.
Lets go, Margaret said determinedly, locking the door behind them.
The old bus trundled achingly slow; Margaret and Grace started in silence, then talked.
Im alone, too, sighed Grace, My husband died three years agosick for long. We lived together many years, but after Lucy I couldnt have another child. I suppose that was justice for abandoning her. Gods punishment, really
So Lucy is all there is for both of us, Margaret mused softly.
It seems so One daughter for two mums, Grace answered, wistful.
At the hospital, they were asked,
Who are you here to see?
To Lucy Peterson, Margaret and Grace said in unison.
And you are?
Mothers, they chorused and exchanged a smile.
Two mums, then? Alright, go ahead
There Lucy lay, pale, under a dripbut brightened as she saw them.
Mum and mum she whispered.
Margaret kissed her first.
Hush now, Im here, darling, and Grace settled by her side.
All will be well, Lucy; youre not alone, Grace said, smoothing the blanket.
They sat with their daughter for hours, talking over everything.
From that moment, Lucy had two mumseventually a husband and two sons. Margaret and Grace, with one daughter for two, gathered now and then as a family.
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