Well, its not my son. He belonged to my neighbour, Kate. Your husband used to call on her often, thats how it happened. The boys got the same bright hair and freckles no need for a test to tell who his father was.
What do you want from me? My husbands gone now, and Ive no idea what he got up to
Well, Kates gone too.
I remember it well. I was tending the vegetable patch, pulling at the stubborn weeds, when I heard someone calling my name from the other side of the gate. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I walked over. There stood a woman Id never seen before.
Good day, Anthea! Might I have a word?
Oh well, if youve come this far, youd best come in.
I invited her inside, and put the kettle on. My curiosity prickled whatever could she want?
My names Nina. Weve never been properly introduced, but word gets around Ill not beat about the bush. Your late husband has a son, young Michael. Hes three years old.
I stared at her she looked far too old to be the boys mother.
Not my son, mind, but my neighbours Kates. Your husband used to drop in all the time and, well, Kate ended up with a baby because of it. Same ginger hair and freckles hes his fathers double, so theres no question about it.
And why have you come to me? My husbands barely been put to rest, Ive no idea where he spent his days
Well, Kates passed too caught a chill, didnt look after herself, and that was that. The poor boys all alone now.
Kate had neither mother nor father herself, nowhere local she worked as a shop girl, always cheerful
Poor lad. Theres nothing for him now but the orphanage
Ive two daughters of my own, you know, both born proper in wedlock. Are you telling me I ought to take this child in? To walk into a mans widows home and suggest she should take responsibility for his dalliances you need a hard neck for that.
Hes your daughters brother not a stranger, not really And the lads gentle and good-natured. Hes in hospital at the moment, theyre drawing up papers for him
Spare me the sob story, please. Heaven only knows how many children my husband left behind, am I to raise them all?
Think on it, thats all. I thought you should know.
Nina left, and I poured myself a strong cup of tea, lost in thought.
***
I met George just after I finished my schooling. We were celebrating, a group of girls together, when a few young men approached.
George stood out with flaming red hair and freckles scattered across his cheeks.
He was lively, mischievous, fond of poems and jokes. He offered to walk me home.
Not long after that, we were wed.
We lived with my gran, who later passed peacefully and left us her little house. Our daughter, Valerie, came first, then Ellen two years later. We lived simply; there was never enough money in the purse.
And then George took to drink. For all my begging and weeping, I couldnt bring him around. Days would pass and he wouldnt return home. He lost his job. I took on two.
Eventually I resolved to end it, to bring the girls to the city where my aunt had long offered us a place; Id find work, I was sure wed manage.
But then, George, in a drunken state, wandered into the street and was struck by a passing carriage. That was the end of him.
I grieved for the daft old fool, cried over his coffin. The girls wept for their father.
And now, it turned out there was a child born out of wedlock
My eldest, Valerie, strode through the door tall and slim like her mother, with that unmistakable red hair from her father.
Mum, is there anything to eat? Me and the girls are off to the pictures, but Im famished! And why do you look so glum?
Im just chewing over some news. Someones come and told me your fathers left a son behind a three-year-old. The boys mothers gone too, so theyre sending him off to the orphanage. Someone thought I might take him in
Blimey, thats news Whos his mother then? Dyou know her?
No. She wasnt local. Her name was Catherine I never caught her surname
What are you going to do? Where is he now? No family at all, I suppose?
Seems not. The boys in hospital. They say hes the very image of your father Here, love, have some potatoes and sausages.
Valerie tucked in at once. Ellen came in soon after and joined her. I smiled, looking at my two girls, both red-haired, both with their fathers spark. Blood runs strong, I remember thinking
The next day, Valerie announced,
Mum, Ellen and I visited the hospital We wanted to see our brother. Hes a funny little thing, chubby and red like us a right little sunbeam. He cried his heart out, just wanted his mum
We brought him an apple and an orange. He stood in his cot, little arms stretched out The nurse even let us play with him a while. Oh, Mum lets take him home. Hes our brother, after all.
I was cross with her.
Have you heard yourself? Your father carried on, and now Im left to sort it all out? Ive enough troubles of my own Its easy for you to say, take him in
People take in strangers children, Mum. This is our own flesh and blood He didnt ask for any of this. You know what they say Children arent to answer for their fathers!
Another mouth to feed? Im run ragged as it is, selling vegetables at the market, working every hour under the sun and you want to lay this burden on me?
Youll be off to college soon, youll need the money; Ellen too, theres always something coming up
If you take in a child, you can get some help from the government, cant you? Mum, youre a mother surely you feel for him? Father did a wrong thing, yes, but hes our brother
I was angry with George, and with my daughter, for having such notions and thrusting another womans child upon me.
Yet, I decided to see the boy. The very next day, I went to the hospital.
Good morning. Excuse me, could you tell me where Master Michael is the three-year-old? The one bound for the orphanage? I asked at the nurses desk.
And who are you to him? Whats your business here?
I only want a look at him. Hes my late husbands child, with another woman things happened as they did
Look all you want, though your daughters were here yesterday, playing with him, not strictly allowed but I let it go. He cried after, calling for his mother
Ill just be a minute. I wont even pick him up, just a glance
Go on then.
So I opened the door and stood frozen. The likeness was uncanny. Those same wild curls, blue eyes, handsome as anything. He was sat in his cot stacking little blocks, and when he saw me, he smiled.
Auntie Wheres my mum? Mumma?
Your mamas gone, Michael
I want to go home
His sobs could break even a stone. My heart twisted inside me. I came closer, bent and lifted him despite myself.
Madam, youll be leaving soon, and Ill have to deal with his crying! What are you doing? Sit him straight back! the nurse scolded.
Hush now, Michael, dont cry, sweetheart
I stroked his hair, wiped away his tears.
Take me with you Im hungry, and theres no one here to play with me
I will, Michael I promise Ill come back. Dont cry any more, all right?
I walked home determined to take that boy in. All my anger melted away the moment I saw that poor, helpless little soul so much like my own girls
***
Fifteen years passed by.
Now Michael is setting out for college in the city. My boy all grown up. The years sped by in a blink.
Call me, son, and come home often My heart aches, times being what they are
Dont worry, Mum, Ill be all right. I wont let you down! The two years will fly by Ill finish up at the polytechnic. Then Ill get a job. Alfie Smith said his uncle pays well at the garage, and you know I can mend any engine. Just wait till I have my mechanical certificate.
My clever lad I ruffled his unruly ginger curls.
***
Lifes rather like a narrow lane through the woods; itll surprise you sometimes, leading you to places youd never expected.
I once thought fate was punishing me one more cross to bear, another hurt from a husbands betrayal.
But in the tangle of pain, I found a tender shoot a little boy who had done nothing wrong, except come into this world.
Sometimes the heart sees what the eyes do not.
I saw not the blood of a stranger in Michael, but a soul aching for warmth.
I didnt hear the cry of someone elses child, but a whispered plea: Mummy.
And, despite my sensibilities and fears, I extended my hands.
The years have proved kindness is not a burden, but a blessing. Michael never was just another mouth to feed he fetched water from the well for me when I weeded, made his sisters laugh on dark days, and as he grew, often said: Thank you, Mum.
And in those words, the world was made whole.
