I walked into the flat where my sons family lived, my heart thumping with a mix of excitement and pride. I was about to make a splash with a special present for my beloved little granddaughter, a dainty blue bead on a string. In my hands was a halfmetrelong box tied up with pink satin ribbon, a fluffy bow swaying gently.
I hadnt skimped on anything no effort, time or money was spared. Id turned the whole thing into a minioperation. I travelled to Birmingham to see a specialist who restores antique dolls. I sewed a lovely little blue dress and a matching bonnet myself, and added a felt coat, fur-lined boots, a knitted scarf with a cap, delicate lace trimmings with a tiny shirt, and even a dotted dress. All of it was my own handiwork. This was the very doll Id been given back in the late sixties when I was an eightyearold girl from a modest family the only pretty toy I ever owned. The memory of that doll, Nat, had brought me endless joy back then, and I was determined to give her a second life. Those modern plastic dolls are lifeless, often with eerie faces; this one, however
My word, my daughterinlaw, Helen, said, eyes wide, where on earth did you dig up such a relic?
Its my first and only doll! I replied, barely noticing her puzzlement. I went up to my sisters cottage in the countryside to collect it; itd been sitting in the old family house for years. All our children were boys, so there was no one to look after it after me. It lay in a box with a broken leg for ages I wept every time that leg snapped! Time has changed it, but look now its as good as new, perhaps even better. The restorer worked wonders!
Grandma, give it to me! my fiveyearold granddaughter, Emily, hopped forward while the adults examined the doll.
Do you like it? I asked.
Its beautiful that dress! I want one just like it! she squealed.
Shall I stitch one for you? We could make them almost identical, I offered.
Dad, who even wears those oldfashioned Sovietstyle outfits now? James, my son, interjected.
Quiet, love! I want it, Emily chirped, eyes bright.
Itll be yours, my little jewel, I promise, I said, smiling. By the way, her name is Nat.
Eeek, thats a terrible name! Ill call her Chelsea! Emily protested.
But love, thats what you call a dog! I warned, halflaughing.
No, shell be Chelsea, like the cartoon! Emily stomped her foot, patting the dolls face. The newly named Chelseas blue eyes seemed to sparkle anew. Wow! Did you see that?
Helen, unlike the others, expressed genuine amazement: Oh, I had one just like that as a child! It was softer, all stuffed. How lovely! Emily, let me hold it for a moment
Emily reluctantly passed the doll to the other grandmother, Margaret, who began to examine it with reverent curiosity.
Just look at that rosy glow and those clear eyes! Such an open, touching stare! The clothes are stitched so neatly I had an identical blue dress when I was little! Margaret exclaimed.
I used Sovietera patterns to sew it, I admitted, a hint of embarrassment in my voice.
No way you did all that yourself? And the other outfits too? Brilliant workmanship! Youre a marvel, Tanya! Margaret gasped.
My husband, George, nodded, stroking his moustache like a seasoned farmer, I joked, as their praise poured over me. My cheeks flushed a crimson that matched the dolls new blush.
Margarets eyes flared again with childlike wonder. She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, Shall we see what this doll can do? Come on, Chelsea, dear
She pressed a hand on the dolls belly, and it squeaked in a tiny electronic voice, Mum!
James and I exchanged a wry glance, smiling politely. A nostalgic tear slipped down my cheek as memories of my own childhood bubbled up. Margaret let out a soft croak, then beamed with a grin that seemed far too youthful for her age.
Lets see what this doll can do, she announced, setting the doll on the floor. Look, shes walking! Shes toddling!
James chuckled, I doubt thatll amaze most kids nowadays
Id have given my soul for a doll like that as a child, Margaret mused, or at least a kilo of boiled turnips, God forbid Id have to eat those! Tanya, youre a gem! She handed the doll back to Emily, declaring it the best gift of the day.
I felt a blush rise as I moved toward the table, my eyes drifting back to Emily, who was peeking under the dolls dress for a hidden button. Mum! Mum! the dolls voice echoed repeatedly.
Emily, love, dont take the button apart, alright? We even restored that too, I told Helen, it had worn out over time.
Helen sighed, thinking how the older generation always pulls something out of the attic, then frets over the junk.
Did you hear me, Emily? I asked, feigning concern.
Yeah, she mumbled.
The adults slipped into their own conversations, raising a toast to the birthday girl. Emily darted back and forth between the table and a pile of new toys, all while cartoons flickered on the TV. The doll, now stripped of its clothes, lay on the carpet. A tabby cat hopped up and began licking the dolls neatly arranged hair. I sat by the window, oblivious to the scene, while the rest of the family seemed to forget the doll entirely.
Wheres our older grandson, Andrew? I asked suddenly.
Hes out with his mates, James answered. Hes got his own teenage adventures.
Did anyone wish the birthday girl? I inquired.
We lifted her ears five times, one for each year, then handed her coloured pens and a colouring book, James replied.
Who in the world lifts a childs ears for a birthday? Margaret protested.
It was all in good fun, Helen replied, recalling old grievances. When my older sister pulled my braids, you never seemed to mind.
George rolled his eyes, sighed, and placed his hand on Margarets arm. Dont make up stories. You two didnt always get along, but Id mediate if I could. Those old hurts our father never raised a hand; the worst I could do was swat with a towel!
Enough of that, Margaret snapped, weve given you so much, you ungrateful lot!
I never said we didnt give, Helen retorted, but Olya got a flat from us, didnt we?
Exactly. We paid for your university, supported you until you were twentytwo. Olya got a scholarship, worked her way to a flat, we just helped. Helen pouted, about to say more, but I sensed the tension rising, so I lightened the mood.
Did I tell you Ive got a new parrot? I announced. Imagine, I stepped out this morning onto the balcony and there it was, perched on the wardrobe door, saying Hello, gorgeous!
Everyone burst into surprised laughter, except Helen, who looked annoyed. George guessed it must belong to the neighbour.
I asked everyone who opened the door, no one knew! Auntie Mary, our neighbour from the terrace, gave me her old cage; she once kept a canary. We named the bird Percy. Hes a bright yellow fellow, a bit small for the cage
Suddenly my face twisted in horror. What on earth are you doing, my little bead? I shouted, shaking the table. Stop! Put those pens away this instant!
Emily stared at us with wide, innocent eyes, clutching the doll in one hand and a red marker in the other, having just added a splash of blush to the dolls cheeks.
Oi, you little scamp! James snatched the marker away. Why would you ruin the doll? Grandmother will be in tears, and Chelsea will be upset too!
Margaret winced, looking at me as if Id just announced a funeral.
Emily broke down, flinging the doll aside and running to her mother. James lifted the doll, his face full of regret.
Can we wash it? he asked.
Try it in the sink with soap, but dont get the hair wet, Margaret suggested, leaning over George and squeezing his hand empathetically. A spoiled child doesnt appreciate anything. Dont be sorry, Tanya. Its just a toy
Its not just a toy, I whispered, my voice barely audible. Give me a minute. Ill help James.
James returned first, then I followed, steadied by the memory of the dolls soft rustle. I cradled the doll as if it were a living thing, lifted the blue dress from the floor, settled on the sofa, and gently dressed her again. The marker stains on Nats cheeks faded under my careful brushing of her hair. I smiled at Emily.
Come here, love. I have something to tell you. Dont be afraid, I wont scold you, I said, pulling her onto my knee while the blueeyed doll perched on my other leg.
When I was a little girl, just a bit older than you, I hardly had any toys or new clothes. I borrowed what I could from my older sistersthere were three of them. We had an older brother, Colin, who worked on the farm before being called up to the army. My mother raised us alone after my father died when I was barely a year old. For birthdays we only got a bun costing sixpence. I never resented that; I just made do. At five I helped Mum around the house, feeding the geese.
One spring, a shop in the village brought in a batch of toys, and among them was an exquisite doll. We girls would run to the shop just to stare at it. No one could afford it, so we called her Nat.
I paused, eyes flicking to the doll. Emily leaned in, eager.
What happened next?
My brother Colin came back from the army the day before my eighth birthday. Mum baked a cherrystone cake and strawberry tart, invited friends. A whole gang of girls rushed in, shouting, Tanya! Your brother got you Nat! Youre so lucky! I could hardly believe it. Id never owned a new toy before. It felt like a dream.
Colin appeared, grinning, holding something behind his back. He kissed me on both cheeks and said, Happy birthday, little sister! I have a present for you. He handed me a boxed doll. I stood there, stunned, thinking I must be dreaming. He said, When I saw her, I knew she was yours. She looks just like our little Tanya.
The joy that doll brought me was immense. I sewed her tiny outfits, fed her, taught her to read, even slept with her. One day a boy broke her leg, but I kept her until I was fourteen. She guarded my sleep, sang me lullabies, we shared jokes. Then I tucked her away in a box, but Nat always stayed in my heart.
Lord, Margaret whispered, tears spilling over Georges shoulder.
I looked around at everyone, my mind awash with those distant memories. Even Helens lips trembled, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
Now, my dear, this doll is yours restored, refreshed, as good as new. Do whatever you like with her; I wont mind. She belongs to you.
Emily clutched the doll tightly, swaying gently. She pressed the doll against my shirt and whispered, Grandma, Ill never hurt Nat again. Shell be my most beloved, I promise.
Nat? You called her Chelsea, I said, surprised.
No, shes Nat. Natty Emily cooed, kissing the dolls crown, youre beautiful, my little bead.
The whole family exchanged smiles.
Lets have another round! George announced, raising his filled glass. To Emily and to Nat! To our little beads!
