**Friday, 12th May**
I wiped my damp hands, wincing at the ache in my back, and shuffled to answer the door. The knocking had been soft but persistentthree times now. Id been washing the windows, so it took me a moment to reach the hall. Outside stood a young girl, pretty but pale, her exhaustion obvious.
Mrs. Mary? I heard you might have a room to let?
Oh, those neighboursalways sending people my way! I dont rent rooms. Never have.
They said youve got three bedrooms.
And what of it? Why should I share? Im used to my own company.
Im sorry. They told me you were a woman of faith, so I thought
The girl bit her lip, fighting back tears, then turned to leave. Her shoulders trembled as she started down the stairs.
Wait! I didnt say no, did I? Goodness, you young onesso quick to cry. Come inside, lets talk. Whats your name? Shall we drop the formalities?
Emily.
Oh, industrious one. Father a factory worker?
I never knew him. I grew up in care. My mother left me in a stairwell when I was just weeks old.
Oh, love. Come, well talk over tea. Are you hungry?
No, I had a doughnut earlier.
A doughnut! Honestly, youth these daysno thought for proper meals. Sit down, Ive got pea soup still warm. And well brew fresh tea. Plenty of jam, too. My husband passed five years back, but I still cook for two out of habit. Eat first, then youll help me finish the windows.
Mrs. Mary, could I do something else? I get dizzyIm afraid Ill fall. Im expecting.
Well, thats just perfect. Only what I need! Straight talk nowis the baby out of wedlock?
Why assume that? Im married. To Jack, from the care home. Hes in the army now. Came home on leave, andwell, when our landlady found out, she gave me a week to leave. All our things are in this bag. No one else would take us.
And so, we became two. Emily studied fashion design. Id been on pension since a rail accident years ago, so I knitted lace doilies, collars, baby bootiessold them at the local market. My work was delicate as sea foam, always in demand. Money wasnt tight, especially with the veg from our garden. Saturdays, we worked the plot together. Sundays, I went to church while Emily stayed home, writing to Jack. She rarely joined mesaid the pews hurt her back.
One Saturday, as we raked leaves, Emily grew tired quickly. I sent her inside to rest with our old records. Later, by the bonfire, I heard her scream: Mum! Mum, come quick! Heart pounding, I forgot my aches and ran. She clutched her belly, trembling. Our neighbour drove us to hospital in his rattling Vauxhall. Emily sobbed, Its too soon! Mum, pray for meyou know how! I did, through tears.
At dawn, the call came: Your daughters fine. Shell need resther hemoglobins low.
That night, Emily spoke endlessly of Jack. We grew up together. Its more than lovehes my family. Heres his photosecond from the right.
Handsome, I lied. My glasses were old; the image blurred.
Emily, I asked later, why did you call me Mum in the garden?
Because I was scared. In care, every adult was Mum or Dad. Ive tried to stopbut when Im frightened, it slips out.
I see. My sigh held disappointment.
Christmas Eve, we decorated, waiting for the first star. Emily fidgeted.
Youre restless. Whats wrong?
Mrs. Mary, call an ambulance. The babys coming.
Nonsense! Youve weeks yet.
I was wrong. Pleasehurry!
By January 7th, little Rosie was born. I wired Jack the news.
Winter passed in sleepless bliss. Then, one mild afternoon, I returned from shopping to find Emily pushing the pram. Well walk a bit longer, she said.
At home, I spotted a framed photo on the tablemy husband, young and smiling. She found it, I mused. Picked his best years, of course.
Later, as I stirred soup, Emily came in. I nodded at the photo. Howd you know where I kept them?
What? You asked me to enlarge Jacks picture. I found the frame on the bookshelf.
My hands shook. That wasnt my husband. A young sergeant grinned up at me.
Mum? Emily pressed smelling salts into my hand. Look at mewhats happening?
Open the wardrobe. Bring the albums.
She did. And there, staring back, was Jack?
Who is this? she whispered.
My husband, Thomas. Emily, where was Jack born?
I dont know. He came to our home after a train crash. They told him his parents died.
My voice broke. Oh God. They showed me a bodyidentified by his shirt. His face was unrecognisable. But JackEmily, does he have a birthmark? Above his right elbow, like a star?
Her tears fell. Yes. Its there.
We clung to each other, weeping, as Rosies cries echoed from the nursery.
