She wasnt their real mother, those five But who could tell?
Ethan had lost his wife. She never recovered from the last childbirth.
Grieve or not, five children remained. The eldest, Michael, was nine. James, seven. The twins, Oliver and Liam, were four. And the youngest, little Emily, just three months oldthe daughter theyd longed for.
There was no time for sorrow when children were hungry. But late at night, once they were all asleep, Ethan sat in the kitchen, smoking in the dark.
At first, he managed alone as best he could. His sister-in-law visited, helped a little. There were no other relatives. She offered to take Oliver and Liam, saying it would ease his burden. Then two social workers came, suggesting all the children be sent to a care home.
Ethan refused. How could he give his own children away? How could anyone live with that? It was hard, of course, but what choice was there? Theyd grow up slowly, and one day, theyd be grown.
He tried to check the older boys schoolwork when he could. Emily was the hardest, naturally. But Michael and James stepped in when needed.
The health visitor, Margaret, came often, keeping watch. One day, she promised to send a nannysaid the girl was good, hardworking, worked at the hospital. No children of her own, unmarried, but shed helped raise her siblings.
And so Lucy arrived in their home.
Petite, sturdy, round-faced, with an old-fashioned braid down her back. Quiet, hardly speaking. Yet everything in Ethans house changed. The floors gleamed, clothes were mended, meals cooked. The children were clean, their elbows no longer scuffed, buttons sewn with matching thread.
When Emily fell ill, feverish, the doctor said care was key. Lucy stayed by her side night after night, never once resting. She nursed the girl back to health. And somehow, she never left.
The younger boys began calling her Mum, starved for a mothers touch. Lucy never withheld affectionpraising them, ruffling their hair, hugging them tight.
The older boys, Michael and James, kept their distance at first, refusing to call her anything. Then, simply, Lucy. Not nanny, not motherjust Lucy. A way to remember the mother theyd lost.
Her own family objected.
Why tie yourself to such a burden? Plenty of men in the village!
There are men, she replied. But I feel for Ethan And the children are used to me now.
So they stayed. Fifteen years slipped by unnoticed. The children grewsome missteps, some scuffles. Ethan would reach for his belt in anger, but Lucy would pull him back. Wait, Father, lets understand first.
They argued, they reconciled. The village no longer called her Lucyshe was Mrs. Lucy now, respected. Michael married this year, expecting his first child.
He worked at the farm, not just another labourerawards, bonuses, recognition. James was finishing university, Lucys prideher boy, an engineer.
Oliver and Liam had left for agricultural college. Emily, now fifteen, was the star of every school play.
And Ethan often thought how well Margaret had chosen for him.
Then one summer, Lucy felt something was wrong. Dizzy spells, nausea. She made Ethan smoke outsidethe smell made her ill.
Finally, she saw the doctor.
That evening, when the house was quiet, she called Ethan to the porch.
Sit, Father The doctor told me something. She covered her face. Im pregnant.
Ethan stared. After all these yearsnow?
Whats shameful about that? he said. The older ones are nearly gonewell manage.
The children What will they say? That Im too old?
Old? Youre thirty-nine!
The next evening, at dinner, Ethan announced it.
Lucy flushed, staring at her plate.
Michael, visiting with his wife, laughed. Brilliant, Mum! Have yours with ourstheyll grow up together!
Oliver grinned. Another brother!
Liam shook his head. Noa sister. Weve only got one girl.
Emilys eyes sparkled. A sister! Ill braid her hair, buy her dresses!
James sighed. Dresses wont raise her.
Well raise her, Ethan said.
Months passed. Michaels son was born. James returned to university. The twins left for college. Emily started her GCSEs, now with a boy walking her home from dances.
Then, one night, pain tore through Lucy.
Ethan fumbled with his boots. Wait, loveIll call an ambulance!
Emily darted outside, returning minutes later. Toms fetching his dads car!
*Tom, is it?* Lucy thought, before another wave of pain hit.
At the hospital, Ethan smoked on the steps all night. At dawn, a nurse stepped out.
Still here, Dad? Well, youll smoke less now. First time?
Fifth, he muttered.
She laughed. Not fifthseventh! Twins!
Twins?!
Boy and girl. The lads got lungs on him.
At discharge, the whole family gatheredeven the twins skipped classes. The nurse carried out two bundles, one in blue, one in pink.
Ethan took one, hesitating over the second.
Forgot how to hold two, he admitted.
Michael took it. Ive done this before.
Emily peeked inside. Oh, shes beautiful!
On the ride homethe farm manager had lent them a vanMichael grinned. You pleased everyone, Mum.
Lucy cradled one baby, watching Ethan with the other.
*Well raise them right,* she thought.
Children, she said, what shall we name them?
The van filled with laughter, shouts, suggestions.
And the driver, Ethans old friend, listened to the noise behind him and thought, *She wasnt their real mother, those five But who could tell?*
