I stepped into the hallway of the flat where my son lived with his family, my heart thumping with a mixture of excitement and pride. I was about to make a splash with a present for my beloved granddaughter, little Emily. In my hands I cradled a halfmetrelong box tied up with a pink satin ribbon, its bow fluffed like a cloud.
I hadnt spared any effort, time or money on this gift. Id turned it into a fullblown operation. I travelled to York to see a specialist who restores antique dolls. I sewed a dainty blue dress and a little bonnet myself, then added a felt coat, woolly boots, a knitted scarf with a matching cap, delicate lace trims with a tiny shirt underneath, and another polkadot frock. It was the very doll Id been given when I was an eightyearold girl from a modest family back in the late 1960sa single beautiful toy that had meant the world to me. I was determined to give it a second life. Modern dolls, after all, look soulless, with their blank, sometimes eerie faces, while this one still had character.
Blimey, my daughterinlaw, Sarah, said as she peered at the relic, where on earth did you dig this treasure up?
Its my very first and only doll, I replied, catching her puzzled look. I drove up to my sister in the village of Ashford to retrieve it; it had been left in the old family house. All the boys in our household were grown, so there was no one to carry it for me. It sat in a box for years, its leg broken, and I wept every time I thought of that snap. Time has changed it, but look nowlike new, even better! The restorer worked miracles.
Grandma, give it to me! Emily squealed, bouncing on her toes while the adults examined the doll.
Do you like it? I asked.
Its lovely that little dress I want one just like it! she exclaimed.
Should I stitch you one and well match? I offered.
Dad, whos still wearing those oldfashioned Sovietstyle clothes? my son James interjected.
Quiet, love! I want it! Emily protested, eyes shining.
Itll be yours, my little bead, everything you wish for, I promised, by the way, her name is Natasha.
Baaaaah, the girl protested, that names dreadful! Ill call her Chelsea!
Sweetheart, thats a dogs name! I scolded gently.
No, shell be Chelsea, just like the cartoon! Emily stomped her foot, smoothing the dolls cheek. The newly christened Chelseas sapphire eyes blinked open. Did you see that?
My sisterinlaw, Eleanor, who had been quiet until now, let out an earnest sigh.
Oh, I had one almost exactly like that when I was a childsoft, plushy. Hand me for a moment, will you?
Emily reluctantly handed the doll to Eleanor, who turned it over with reverent curiosity.
Magnificent! Eleanor cooed. Look at that rosy glow and those clear eyes! Such an open, touching stare! The stitching is immaculatejust like the blue dress I owned as a girl!
I followed Sovietera patterns, I admitted, a flush creeping onto my cheeks.
You stitched everything yourself? Incredible work, darling! I never knew you could sew, Eleanor replied, eyes wide.
My husband, my fatherinlaw, Harold, chuckled, stroking his moustache, says its a splendid little thing.
Blushing, I waved my hand, my cheeks taking on a rosecoloured hue that rivalled Chelseas own.
Eleanors delight reignited like a spark from youth. She leaned in, as if about to pull a prank.
Lets see what this doll can do, shall we? Come on, Chelsea,
She pressed a finger to the dolls belly and it let out a childish, electronic voice: Mummum!
James and Sarah exchanged an ironic glance, smiling politely. A tear welled in my eyes, nostalgia for my own childhood flooding back. Eleanor let out a wavering croak, while the rest of us wore smiles that seemed too bright for our ages. Emily clapped her hands and reached for the doll.
Give it back, love! James laughed.
Hold on a sec, Eleanor said, setting the doll on the floor and humming, Tap, tap, the little ones walking Look, its walking!
Dad, James said, trying not to grin, I dont think modern kids find that that impressive.
Kids today know everything! When I was a girl Id have given my soul for a doll like that, Eleanor replied, or at least a kilo of boiled swede! What a nightmare that was Tanya, youre a treasure!
She handed the doll back to Emily, who beamed. Best present of the day, thank you!
I shuffled to the kitchen, cheeks still pink, and glanced at Emily, who was peering under the dress for the tiny button. Mummum! Mummum! the doll kept chanting.
Sweetheart, dont take the button apart, okay? We had to restore that too, I told Sarah. It was all worn out with age.
Sarah, keeping a composed face, thought to herself how the elderly always pull something out of a chest, then fuss over the bits and pieces.
Emily, did you hear Grandma? I asked my daughterinlaw.
Mmhm, she replied.
The adults drifted into conversation, raising the first toasts to the birthday girl. Emily darted between the dining table and her new toys, watching cartoons at the same time. The doll, now stripped of its clothing, lay on the floor. Beside it, the family cat, Whiskers, began licking the dolls neatly arranged hair.
I was seated by the window, oblivious to the scene unfolding with my cherished Chelsea. The rest of the room had forgotten the doll entirely.
Wheres our older grandson, Andy? I asked suddenly.
Hes out with his mates, James answered. He doesnt fancy these family gatherings; he has his own teenage pursuits.
Did you wish the birthday girl properly? I inquired.
Of course, James said, I gave her five gentle eartugsone for each yearand then handed her crayons and a colouring book.
What on earth, you cant tug a childs ears! Eleanor exclaimed.
It was all in jest, Sarah said, recalling old grievances. When my older sister used to pull my braids, you never seemed to mind.
Harold set down his glass, rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and said, Dont make up stories. You fought, you didnt love each other, but I tried to keep the peace. Those old hurts my father never laid a hand on us, I could only swat with a towel at most!
No, we were hit, I remember, Sarah protested. Olivia was your favourite, and I”
Better remember the real thing, not some madeup childhood drama! How much weve given you, you ungrateful lot! Harold snapped.
The parrots here, you know? I interjected, trying to defuse the tension. I got a new bird yesterday. I went out onto the balcony this morning and it was perched on the wardrobe door, squawking Hello, gorgeous!
Everyone burst into laughter, except Sarah, who looked mortified. Harold guessed it was a neighbours pet.
I asked everyone who opened the door, no one knew. Aunt Mabel, our neighbour from the end of the terrace, gave me her old cage. The bird once belonged to her, and we named him Petrovich. Hes a bright redyellow fellow, a bit small for the cage
Suddenly my face twisted in horror. All eyes turned where I was looking.
Oh dear, what are you doing, my little bead? I cried, shaking the table. No, no, thats not right! Put the crayons away this instant!
Emily lifted her innocent eyes. In one hand she clutched the doll, cradling it like a baby; in the other she held a red crayon, adding a cheeky dab of colour to the dolls cheeks.
Heyhey! James snatched the crayon away. Why would you ruin the doll? Grandma will be upset, and Chelsea will be sad too!
Emily, darling Eleanor said, eyes wide, as if at a funeral.
Emily burst into tears, flinging the doll and running to her mother. James picked up the doll, his expression apologetic.
Can we wash it? he asked.
Try it in the sink with soap, but dont get the hair wet, I suggested, leaning over Eleanors arm and giving her a sympathetic squeeze. A spoiled child doesnt appreciate anything. Dont worry, Tanya, its just a toy
Its not just a toy, I whispered softly. Ill step out for a minute and help James.
James returned first, then I followed, holding the doll gently as if it were alive. The room watched in guilty silence as I lifted the blue dress from the floor, settled on the sofa and dressed the doll again. Streaks of crayon still marked her cheeks, but I smoothed her hair and smiled at my granddaughter.
Come here, Emily. Ive got something to tell you. Dont be afraid, I wont scold you.
She approached warily, and I set her on my knee while the doll sat beside us, eyes still blue.
When I was a small girl, just a little older than you, I hardly had any toys or new clothes. I borrowed what I could from my two older sisters. We had a brother, Colin, who worked on the farm before being called up to the Army. We were poor; Mum alone raised us after Dad died when I was barely a year old. On birthdays Mum could only afford a sixpence bun as a treat. I got what was left over, never complained. I helped with the chores from the age of five, looking after the ducks.
One spring, the village shop brought in a shipment of toys. Among them was a doll of extraordinary beauty. No one bought itit was far too expensivebut we called her Natasha.
I paused, pointing at the doll. Emilys eyes widened with anticipation.
What happened next?
Colin came back from the Army the day before my eighth birthday. Mum baked a birdberry cake and strawberry tarts, we were expecting friends. A gang of girls burst into the yard shouting, Tanya, Tanya, your brother bought you a doll! How lucky you are! Let us play with it, please! I was stunned. Id never owned a brandnew toy before. A doll? My dream come true! They must have been joking.
Then Colin appeared, grinning, hiding something behind his back. He kissed me on both cheeks and said, Happy birthday, my dear sister! Heres a present for you. He handed me a box containing the doll. I stared at it, hardly believing my luck. I even envied myself! 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 endless. I sewed her clothes, 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. Every night she lay beside me, guarding my sleep, singing lullabies, sharing our private jokes. Eventually we stored her away, but Natasha stayed forever in my heart.
Harolds shoulders shuddered as he whispered, Lord and began to weep into his wifes lap.
I looked around, my memories carrying me far beyond the present. Everyone else seemed moved; even Sarahs lips trembled as she dabbed at her eyes.
Now, my dear, this doll is yoursrestored, renewed, as good as new. Do whatever you like with her; I wont mind. Shes yours.
Emily clutched the doll tightly, rocking gently, then pressed it against my shirt.
Grandma, Ill never hurt Natasha again. Shell be my favourite, I promise, she declared.
Natasha? I asked, surprised. You called her Chelsea earlier.
No, shes Natasha, Emily replied sweetly, kissing the dolls head. Youre beautiful, my little bead!
The whole family exchanged amused smiles.
Lets have another drink, Harold announced, raising his glass. To Emily and to Natasha! To our little beads!
