“Were you the man who left me on the orphanage steps?” Roman asked the stranger, spotting the same distinctive birthmark on his chest.
“Right, lads, thats my cue!” Roman shouted, leaping onto the steps of the already-moving train. His mates waved from the platform, someone shouting a last-minute goodbye. He grinned.
Three years had passed since hed returned from the army. In that time, hed landed a job and started a distance-learning degree. But thisjust packing up and heading off to another citywas a first.
His mates shared a bond forged in the same childrens home. Orphans as kids, they were now adults with dreams, goals, and plans of their own.
Annie and Pete had married, taken out a mortgage, and were expecting their first. Roman was genuinely happy for themmaybe a tad envious, but in a good way. He wanted that too. Life, however, had other ideas.
From his earliest days in care, hed wondered: Who was he? Whered he come from? Why was he here?
Memories were fuzzy, like fragments of a dream, but deep down, he clung to a warmthsomething good from before. The only clue was that a man had brought him. A well-dressed bloke, about thirty.
Hed learned this from old Nora, the cleaner who hadnt yet retired back then.
“I was sharper in those dayseyes like a hawk,” shed told him. “I looked out the window, and there he was under the streetlamp, holding a little lads hand. Couldnt have been more than three.”
“He talked to him like he was grown up. Then the doorbell rangand off he dashed. I chased after, but he was quick as a fox. Gone.”
Shed know him if she saw him again. That noselong and sharp, like something off a portrait. No car nearby, so he mustve been local. Didnt even put gloves on the kiddie.
Roman remembered none of it. But over the years, hed pieced it together: most likely, his father. His mothers fate remained a mystery.
Still, hed arrived at the home neatly dressed, well-kept. One thing unsettled the staffa large, pale birthmark stretching across his chest to his neck.
At first, they thought it a burn, but doctors confirmed it: a rare type of birthmark. Nora reckoned they often ran in families.
“Alright, Nora, dyou want me patrolling beaches, checking everyone for birthmarks?” Roman had laughed.
But shed just sighed. To him, shed become family. After he aged out, she took him in:
“Stay with me till you get a place. No use bouncing between rented rooms.”
Hed held back tearshe was a man now. But how could he forget the times hed stumbled into her storeroom after a thrashing and wept into her lap?
Hed always stood his ground, even against older lads. Shed stroke his hair and say:
“Youre a good lad, Roman. Honest. But life wont be kind to that. Not kind at all.”
Back then, he hadnt understood. Years later, it made perfect sense.
Annie had been at the home since birth. Pete arrived later, when Roman was eleven. Skinny and tall, Roman was; Pete, quiet and fragile.
Hed come after a tragedyhis parents poisoned by counterfeit vodka. At first, Pete kept to himself.
Then came the day that bound the three of them for good. Not by blood, but by something stronger.
Annie was bullied. Ginger, tiny, shyperfect target. Some teased, others yanked her plaits, a few just shoved. That day, the older kids were especially vicious.
Roman couldnt stand by. He leapt inbut was outmatched. Within minutes, he was curled on the ground, shielding his face. Annie swung her satchel like a sword, screaming.
Thensilence. The kicks, the jeersgone, like someone flicked a switch. Hands hauled Roman up. There stood Pete.
“Whyd you jump in? You cant even throw a proper punch!”
“Was I sposed to just watch?”
Pete thought, then offered a hand. “Youre alright. Shake on it?”
From then on, they were mates.
Annie gaped at her rescuer with such awe Roman had to cup her chin. “Close your mouth, love. Youll swallow a fly.”
Pete laughed. “Listen, squirtif anyone bothers you, come to me. Tell em youre under my wing.”
From that day, Pete trained Roman properly. At first, it was dullhed rather readbut Pete knew how to motivate.
Soon, Roman thrived. His PE grades shot up, muscles filled out, and girls started glancing his way.
Pete left the home first. Annie cried; he hugged her. “Dont, squirt. Ill be back. Never lied to you, have I?”
He did returnoncethen enlisted. When he came back again, Annie was packing. He walked in, uniformed, flowers in hand.
“Missed you. Its been rubbish without you.”
Shed blossomed into a striking young woman. When she turned, Pete dropped the bouquet.
“Blimey. Youre wow. Fancy being my wife?”
She smiled. “Alright. Youre not bad yourself.”
After the army, Pete was stationed in the very city Roman was now heading to. Hed visit themespecially once the baby came. Hed be godfather, no question.
Roman settled into his first-class berthno skimping this time. He needed proper rest before work: he was a high-rise construction rigger. Good pay, no overtimeleft plenty of time for studies and mates.
As he turned in, shouts erupted in the corridor. A man bellowed, demanding someone vacate a berth immediately.
Roman tried ignoring it, but then a tearful voice joined inso familiar his chest tightened. Like Noras. He peered out.
A trembling young attendant stood by the next berth.
“Whats going on?”
“Some posh bloke,” she whispered. “An old lady bumped his teaspilled on his shirt. Now hes carrying on like shes committed treason.”
The man roared on: “Get out, you daft old bat! Youre stinking up the place!”
Roman stepped forward. “Mate, pipe down. Shes elderly. Made a mistakeand paid her fare same as you.”
“You know who I am? One call, and youre off this train!”
“Dont care who you are. Jaws break the sameposh or not.”
The man fell silent. Roman turned to the lady. “Come with me. Were swapping berthsmines yours.”
Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes. The attendant watched, impressed. Roman returned to her berth, tossed his bag down, unbuttoned his shirt. The man paled.
“Whats that on your chest?”
Roman glanced down. “Dont panicnot contagious. Had it since birth.”
“Bloody hell”
The man sank onto the bunk. Roman frowned. “Whats your problem?”
With trembling hands, the man unbuttoned his own shirtrevealing an identical birthmark.
“Were you the man who left me on the orphanage steps?”
“Yes. I was a coward. Im sorry. I was married then. Your mum, Marina She came to me, said she was terminally ill, hadnt long. Begged me to take you in.”
“But my wife was due home any minute. I panicked Dropped you at the home, and we moved. Years later, Marina found me. Treatment had workedshed survived, was searching for you. And I I told her you were dead.”
“Where is she now?”
“After a stroke, she went into a care home. Two years ago. In your city, actually.”
Roman said nothing, left, and approached the attendant.
“I heard,” she murmured. “If you like, rest in my cabin awhile.”
“Ta. And think I know which home he meant.”
He called in sick, explained everything. The attendantKatewent with him. He was grateful; going alone wouldve been too much.
“Marina was admitted post-stroke about two years back”
“Thats her. Marina Pavlovna. Lovely woman. Always said she had no oneson was dead. And you?”
Roman shrugged. “Maybe her son. If its really her.”
“Go on in.”
The woman in the wheelchair looked up from her knitting. Smiled. The nurse gasped:
“Youre the spitting image!”
Marina dropped her yarn. “I always knew you were alive. Felt it.”
Two years passed. Marina underwent rehab, paid for by Roman. Now she read fairy tales to her grandson while Kate, his wife, prepped a celebratory dinner. Today, they
