Without a Bit of Luck, Thered Be No Joy
How could he have left you, you daft thing! Whos going to take you in now, sashaying about with a baby on your hip? How do you plan to raise it? Im no charity, you know! I raised you, but Im not carrying your baggage as well. Get out of my house, pack your things, and dont let me see your face again!
Mary Jane stood quietly, staring at the worn carpet, as her aunts shouting sailed over her head. The small hope shed clung to that her aunt might let her stay a little longer while she found a job crumbled away faster than a shortbread in a teapot.
If only Mum had lived
Her father was firmly in the unknown column, and her mother had vanished from the mortal coil fifteen years ago, mowed down by a drunken lorry driver at a crossing. The council had been all set to cart her off to the orphanage, but then a distant relation (a third cousin thrice removed, via her mums side) had materialised, apparently flush enough to keep her.
Theyd settled at the frayed edge of a tired town in southern England, the summers baking, the winters soggy. Mary Jane had never known true hunger, had decent-enough clothes, and learned, before she could even spell her own name, that a house with a garden and chickens meant work never left you alone. Maybe she lacked a mothers loving touch, but honestly, who had time to notice?
Shed thrown herself into her studies. After finishing sixth form, she managed to bag a place at a teachers training college. The university years flitted by, and clutching her degree, she returned to her hometown heart weighing her down like a wet brolly.
Go on, get out, and dont let me catch you moping around!
But Auntie Victoria, cant I
Ive said my piece!
So Mary Jane snapped shut her battered suitcase and stepped out into the dazzling afternoon. How did she get here, precisely? Humiliated, rejected, belly just hinting at the future she hadnt been able to lie about the pregnancy, not with the evidence beginning to show.
She desperately needed a roof, and perhaps a biscuit. Wandering, head down, lost in the worlds least comforting daydream, she was jerked from her thoughts by a sudden voice.
Fancy a drink of water, love?
A sturdy-looking woman, about fifty with the weather-beaten cheeks of a professional curtain twitcher, regarded her with shrewd, kindly eyes.
Come in, if youre not trouble.
She handed her a glass jug filled with deliciously cold water. Mary Jane plonked herself onto a bench by the hydrangea bush and gulped greedily.
Mind if I sit a bit? Its absolutely boiling, Mary Jane managed.
Sit yourself down, dear. Where you from? Thats a fair pile of luggage for a hot day.
Ive just finished college, looking to land a teaching job. Not a clue where Ill stay, though. By any chance, do you know anyone with a room for rent? The woman, Mrs. Rosemary, assessed her like a fruit at the market: clean, if a bit shadowy round the eyes.
You can stay here. Wont charge the Earth but I expect rent on the dot. If thats alright with you, come see the room.
Grateful for both a chat and the promise of a little extra income in their overlooked village, she ushered Mary Jane to a small room with a view over a scraggly apple orchard. Bed, battered wardrobe, an ancient desk enough to call your own.
Baskets of Goodies
Finest Togs in Town
Over the next few days, Mary Jane settled in, lending Mrs. Rosemary a hand with the endless chores. Each evening, theyd sip proper tea under the trailing wisteria and discuss the grim comedy that is life.
Her pregnancy progressed without any major disasters. She confided the story: Jonathan, her university sweetheart, a son of teachers with a double-barrelled surname and a wallet to match, whod pegged it the minute shed broken the news. She still had the money hed left behind she knew shed need it before long.
You did right not to get rid, grunted Mrs. Rosemary. An innocent babe often brings the happiness you least expect.
Come February, the contractions started. Mrs. Rosemary bundled her into a cab to the local hospital. Soon after: a rosy-cheeked baby boy, sturdy as a rugby prop she named him George. In the ward, she heard about a little girl, abandoned after birth by a mother with cold feet.
Does anyone fancy feeding this one? Shes not thriving, muttered the harried nurse, cradling the tiny bundle.
Mary Jane took her, heart twisting. The little mite was as pale as a cloud in October.
Ill call you Daisy, she whispered.
When Captain Daniel Ford, the baby girls father, turned up, everything changed. On discharge day, a car festooned with blue and pink balloons awaited. The uniformed army man helped them in, offering two neatly wrapped parcels: one blue, one pink.
The town gossiped for months about the upcoming wedding. Bowled over by Mary Janes compassion, Daniel had proposed, and Mary Jane with George cradled in one arm and Daisy newly adopted found herself stepping into a life shed never even imagined.
Whod have thought that a scorching summers day, a jug of cold water, and a kindly word could twist fate so brilliantly? Thats just life for you: always scribbling out another chapter when you least expect it.
