I stepped into the hallway of the flat where my sons family lived, my heart bursting with a mix of excitement and nerves. Id brought a present for my beloved granddaughter, a sweet little beadlike charm she called my darling. In my hands was a halfmetrelong box, tied neatly with a pink satin ribbon and topped with a fluffy bow.
I hadnt spared any effort, time or money for this gift. Id turned it into a fullblown operation. I traveled to York to see a specialist who restores antique dolls. I sewed a delicate skyblue dress and a matching bonnet myself, and added a felt coat, a pair of sheepskin boots, a knitted scarf with a tiny hat, lace trimmings, a tiny chemise and even a polkadot dress. All of it I made with my own hands. This was the very doll Id received as a birthday present back in the late 1960s, when I was a shy eightyearold girl from a modest family. It had been the only beautiful toy I ever owned, and it had brought me endless joy. I was determined to give it a second life, for modern dolls are often soulless plastic with grimy faces, whereas this one still had character.
Good heavens, my daughterinlaw, Emily, murmured, eyes wide. Where on earth did you dig up this relic?
Its my first and only doll, I said, halflaughing, as if the astonishment on Emilys face didnt register. I went up to my sisters cottage in the village to fetch it; itd been left in the old family house. All my children are boys, so there was no one else to look after it. It sat in a box for years with a broken leg. I wept when the leg snapped! Time has changed it, but look at it nowlike new, even better. The restorer worked wonders.
My dear, let me have it! squealed eightyearold Poppy, bouncing up and down while the adults examined the doll.
Do you like it? I asked.
Its lovely that dress! I want one just like it!
Shall I stitch you a similar one? I offered.
Mom, who wears those outdated Sovietstyle outfits now? interjected my son, Sasha, with a smirk.
Quiet, love! I want it! Poppy declared, staring at the doll with awe.
Itll be yours, my little pearl, everything you wish for, I promised, adding, By the way, her name is Natasha.
Its a terrible name! Ill call her Chelsea! Poppy protested.
But dear, thats a name for a dog! I replied, halfjoking.
No, shell be Chelsea like the cartoon!, she said, patting the dolls head. Its sapphire eyes flickered open again. Wow! Did you see that?
My sisterinlaw, Helen, who had been watching quietly, expressed genuine delight. I had almost the same one as a child! Only the body was soft and stuffed. What a beauty! Let me hold it for a moment.
Reluctantly, Poppy passed the doll to Helen, who examined it reverently.
Splendid! Look at that rosy hue and those bright eyes! Such an open, touching gaze! The stitching is immaculatejust like the blue dress I had as a child, she cooed.
I used Sovietera patterns, I admitted, a hint of embarrassment in my voice.
Really? You made all the clothes yourself? Remarkable work! Youre a proper craftswoman, my dear! Helen exclaimed.
My husband, George, chuckled, rubbing his moustache as if it were a fine wheat field. I flushed, cheeks turning a deep rose, matching the dolls own cheeks.
Helens eyes sparkled again, and she leaned in as if about to pull a prank. Lets see what this doll can do, shall we? Come on, Chelseaoh dear
She pressed a finger to the dolls belly, and the toy uttered a childlike electronic voice: Mum! Mum!
The parents exchanged a wry glance and a restrained smile. Tears welled in my own eyes, a wave of nostalgia for my own childhood. Helen let out a soft croak, and her smile widened to a childlike grin.
Lets find out what this doll can do, she said, nudging it again. It answered, Mum!.
My son, Sasha, sighed, I dont think modern kids are that impressed by a talking doll.
Ah, you know nothing! Id have given my soul for such a toy back then, even a kilo of boiled turnips! Helen laughed, handing the doll back to Poppy. Best gift of the day, dear.
Embarrassed, I shuffled toward the table, glancing at Poppy as she fiddled with the dolls dress, looking for a missing button. Mum! Mum! the doll kept calling.
Poppy, love, dont take the button apart to see how it works, okay? We had to restore that too, I advised Emily, trying to keep the peace.
Emily, ever the pragmatic one, thought about how older people always bring out something from a chest and then fuss over the junk.
Did you hear that, Poppy? I asked my daughter.
Yes, she mumbled.
The adults drifted into their own conversations, raising a toast to the birthday girl. Poppy darted between the table and her toys, watching cartoons at the same time. The doll, now stripped of its clothing, lay on the floor. Beside it, our cat, Whiskers, curled up and began to lick the dolls neatly arranged hair. From my seat by the window I missed the whole scene, and the others forgot about the doll altogether.
Wheres our eldest grandson, Andy? I asked suddenly.
Hes out with his friends, my son replied. Hes not interested in us; youth has its own pursuits.
Did anyone wish the birthday girl?
Of course. I lifted her by the ears five timesonce for each yearand then handed her a set of markers and a colouring book, Sasha said with a grin.
Pulling a childs ears? Thats nonsense! Helen exclaimed.
It was in jest, Emily defended, recalling old grievances. When my older sister used to pull my braids, you never seemed to mind.
George rolled his eyes, sighed, and placed his hand on his wifes arm. Dont start. You fought, you didnt love each other, but I saw you both. Those old hurts My father never laid a finger on me; the worst I could do was a towel slap!
Emily pouted, Im not saying you didnt give us anything, but we gave Olya a flat.
Exactly. We helped pay for your university, supported you until you were twentytwo. Olya earned her own money later, I reminded them.
Emily pursed her lips, about to say more, but I sensed the mood turning sour. I lightened it.
Did I tell you I now have a parrot? I announced. Imagine, I went out onto the balcony this morning and there he was, perched on the cupboard door, squawking Hello, beautiful!
Everyone burst into laughterexcept Emily, who looked flustered. George guessed it must belong to our neighbour.
The neighbour down the hall, Aunt Martha, gave me her old cage. I named the bird Percy. Hes a gorgeous, brightyellow fellow, I explained.
Suddenly my face went pale. I stared at something unseen and shouted, Oh, what are you doing, my dear! I leapt up, shaking the table. No, nostop that! Put the markers away this instant!
Poppy lifted her innocent eyes, clutching the doll in one hand and a red marker in the other, adding a touch of rouge to its cheeks.
Enough! my husband, Sasha, snapped, snatching the marker from her. Why would you ruin the doll? Grandmother will cry, and Chelsea will be upset.
Helen shook her head, eyes wide, looking at me as if Id been at a funeral. Poppy burst into tears, flinging the doll and running to her mother. Sasha held the doll up, his expression full of regret.
Can we wash it? he asked.
Try it in the sink, but dont get the hair wet, I suggested, leaning toward Helen and giving her a comforting squeeze. The child knows no value, everythings fleeting. Dont be upset, love. Its just a toy
No, its not just a toy I whispered, wiping a tear. Ill step out for a minute and help Sasha.
Sasha returned first, and shortly after, I came back, cradling the doll gently as if it were a living thing. The room fell silent as I lifted the blue dress from the floor, settled on the sofa and dressed the doll anew. The faint streaks of marker on its cheeks remained, but I smoothed its hair and smiled at my granddaughter.
Come here, Poppy. I have something to tell you. Dont be afraid, I wont scold you, I said, pulling her onto my knee while the doll perched beside us.
When I was a little older than you, I hardly had any toys or new clothes. I borrowed what I could from my older sistersthree of them, mind you. My brother, Colin, was already working on the farm before the army took him away. We were poor; Mother raised us alone after Father died when I was not even a year old. Birthday treats were a sixpenny bunnothing grand. I got whatever was left over, but I never resented it. At five I was already helping with chores, feeding the geese.
During Colins second year in the army, the village shop received a shipment of toys. Among them was a doll of extraordinary beauty. We girls ran there just to stare at it. It never sold because it was too pricey, so we named her Natasha.
I paused, eyes flicking to the doll. Poppy leaned in, eager.
What happened next?
When Colin returned the day before my birthday, I was eight. Mother baked a rowanberry cake and strawberry tarts for the guests. A whole bunch of girls burst into the yard, shouting, Natasha is yours, Tanya! What a lucky girl! Let us play with her, please! I could hardly believe it. Id never owned a new toy before a doll! The dream of every girl! It felt like a fairy tale.
Colin came in, hiding something behind his back, and kissed me on both cheeks. Happy birthday! Ive got a present for you, my dear sister. He handed me the wrapped box. I opened it trembling, my heart racing. He said, When I saw her, I knew she was meant for youshe looks just like you.
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. She guarded my sleep, sang me lullabies, and we shared secrets. Eventually we stored her away, but Natasha stayed in my heart forever.
Lord, Helen whispered, tears spilling onto Georges shoulder.
I looked around at everyone, my memories having carried me far from the present. Even Emilys 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. She belongs to you.
Poppy clutched the doll tightly, swaying gently. She pressed the doll to my shirt. Grandma, Ill never hurt Natasha again. Shell be my most beloved, truly. She deserves it.
Natasha? You called her Chelsea, I asked.
No, shes Natasha, she replied softly, kissing the dolls crown. How beautiful you are, my little pearl!
The whole family exchanged smiling looks.
Lets have another drink, George said, raising his glass. To Poppy and to Natasha! To our little pearls.
