Tommy Smiths life begins with a rejection a plainno, no reason given. His mother gives birth in the dead of night, spends an hour cleaning up, and without checking if the baby is breathing she wraps him in a rag and tells her partner to toss the bundle in the bin.
Morning the rubbish is collected, and its all hidden! Get it out before anyone wakes up! she shouts.
Luckily the people her mother fears get up early. Her partner, a simple man, doesnt throw the infant away. He leaves the bundle by the bin, covering it with an old coat someone else discarded. The baby stays warm enough to survive.
Aunt Emily, who is out walking her restless terrier Molly at dawn, hears the dogs frantic barking. Molly cant hold it any longer, so Emily grabs the soggy snout, silences her for a moment, and darts outside in a dressing gown and slippers, cursing her husbands anniversary present for being less impressive than this tailwagging crisis.
Molly, ecstatic at her freedom, runs circles around the yard, does her business, then freezes, ignoring the chilly air, whimpering a little before trotting toward the rubbish bins. Emily calls after her:
Where are you off to, you mad thing? Stop! Who are you talking to?
Molly ignores her, darts to the bins, circles the wrapped bundle where Tommy whimpers, and lets out a howl that makes Emily clutch her chest.
What on earth? What have you found? she cries. Curiosity beats caution; she pulls the coat aside, lifts the rag, and wails louder than the dog:
Oh, kind people! What is happening? Help us!
Uncle Michael, Emilys husband, sleeps soundly. Neither the dogs bark nor the neighbours weekendonly power drill can rouse him, nor does the household hustle. The only thing that jolts him awake is his wifes sobs.
Emily! Im coming! he mumbles, stumbling from bed in bright, flowerpatterned underwear his wife sewed for him, and hurries outside, certain only that his wife needs help.
Seeing the scene, Michael forgets the argument hed had with his brotherinlaw the night before. He accepts an extra slice of ham sandwich his wife hands him without comment, then, after wiping tears from Emilys cheeks, commands:
Calm down and take off that dressing gown!
Michael!
Emily, dont argue! Hell freeze solid otherwise!
Tommy, still clueless about the roles these strangers will play, lets out a tiny squeak that serves as a call for aid. Michael, taking the warm dressing gown from his wife, surprises himself by wrapping it around the infant and sprinting to the flat entrance, shouting at Molly, who is now snarling at his feet:
Home, you silly thing!
An ambulance arrives swiftly, and they whisk Tommy away.
Emily continues sobbing on Michaels shoulder for a while, then decides to make breakfast, feeding Molly almost all the remaining sliced sausage out of pity. She wonders whether she feels more sorry for the dog, the baby rescued that morning, or herself a mystery even she cant solve.
One would think thats the end of Tommys story. He doesnt need to return to the yard that almost cost him his life. Yet fate, whimsical as ever, takes a liking to the little boy who clings to life more fiercely than many adults fortunate enough to have it handed to them. In the hospital, Tommy stares at the white ceiling, quietly regaining strength, eating heartily, and sleeping soundly, endearing himself to the nurses with his uncomplaining demeanor.
Their gold is a baby, not a trinket! So calm, barely a whimper. Others wail, but this one only cries when it matters. Who could ever turn down such a gift? Its a living soul! a nurse remarks.
Tommy cant answer. He doesnt even know he has a mother, let alone a father who has scattered his other children across the country, refusing to acknowledge any of them. Social services give him the surname Smith, as the records dictate, and note that hes one of those rejected local kids dont mix him up later.
In the childrens home, staff dote on him, even spoil him for being lowmaintenance and patient, waiting for someone to approach. Hell be snapped up fast handsome, healthy. Maybe his parents will appear, they whisper.
But fates plans shift again. He is indeed adopted, only for his new mother, six months after finalising the paperwork, to realize she isnt ready to raise a strangers child. She returns Tommy to the place she took him from, as if sending back an unwanted toy.
His new father, Michael, doesnt protest. Hes overjoyed at the prospect of finally becoming a real dad after ten barren years. Doctors unanimously claim he cant father a child, that nature forbids it. Tommy, as bewildered as ever, only mourns that nightly lullabies and cuddles cease. He soon forgets this grief, as people tend to remember the bad more than the good.
Deprived of a childhood function, Tommy again watches the white ceiling, obediently eats his porridge, and smiles when anyone strokes his cheek, even if such affection isnt always welcomed.
Dont waste time complaining; get on with it! he seems to think.
A second family arrives when Tommy turns three.
Im Tom! he declares seriously, extending his hand to the man who wants to be his father. Autumn!
Whats his story? the man asks, raising an eyebrow, glancing at his beautiful wife, No, no we need a healthy child. This lad doesnt fit.
Tommy doesnt realise theyre talking about his own desire to share the new knowledge his nanny taught him the day before: she had placed him on the windowsill, traced a finger over the glass, and said,
See, Tommy, autumn is here! Rain weeps, leaves carpet the ground. Beautiful, isnt it? Autumn is your friend! You were born in September, little one. Maybe fate will bring you happy parents soon.
Perhaps the nannys words swayed fate, steering prospective adopters away. The next day Tommy forgets the strangers entirely, unaware that destiny has already brushed its finger across the same dusty window, deciding its time to think about his godsons happiness.
First, the nanny visits the yard where Tommy was found. She sees Aunt Emily, as usual, walking Molly early, standing by the bins, sighing deeply, as if the world itself feels her story.
In her youth, Emily had been a lively spirit, juggling school, work, and dreams of a grand love. She wasnt a striking beauty, so she never expected many choices, but dreaming was never forbidden. Her mother, tailoring a new skirt for her, urged:
Make it shorter, love, like the girls wear now. Youll need longer, prettier legs, but well manage. If you have flaws, youll find strengths. Your hair is thick, eyes pretty, lashes light you can fix anything. Your waist isnt thin? Pick the right blouse for the skirt. Youll be my top beauty, Valentina! Remember, a womans glow comes from how she treats herself.
Why, Mum? Valentina asked, gazing at herself.
Because men notice it, and they like it. Sometimes youll think, Shes gorgeous, why cant I have her? and then youll see a plain girl next to a man whos awed. She knows a secret. That secret is her power.
Do I have that power? she asked.
Of course! Everyone has it, but not everyone knows how to use it. Try on the new dress and see. Then well think of more.
Emily learned to dress well, to size up men, to look beyond cute faces. She finished university, got a job, but never met the right partner. Her parents later bought her a secondhand car that needed upkeep but did the job. Public transport in their small town was terrible, so the car saved her countless earlymorning scrambles.
She learned to drive, to care for her iron horse, finding a good mechanic Michael. Their romance was quiet: bouquets, sweets, meeting the parents. When Emily announced she was getting married, everyone chimed, Congrats, Emily! Michaels a good lad; youre a perfect match.
Years later, doctors told Emily and Michael they wouldnt have children. They exchanged a weary glance, sighed, and held each others shoulders in the quiet of their bedroom, sharing the pain privately.
How could we, Michael? I wanted a child
I wanted you, Emily. Children are nice, but well manage without. Youre here, thats what matters.
They stopped raising the subject, each coping in his own way, never letting go of the others hand. Together, life felt easier.
Time eased the hurt. Their parents passed away, leaving a gentle melancholy and warm memories. Their house welcomed a new dog, Molly, and everything seemed settleduntil fate nudged Molly to bark the very morning Tommy was born.
Since then, Emily loses peace. She repeatedly dreams of an early autumn morning, crisp air scented with damp leaves. She walks the yard, watches the dog, and hears a faint infants cry calling her somewhere. She wakes in a cold sweat, trying to piece together where she should be, only to meet Michaels concerned gaze:
Whats wrong, love?
Just a dream
Bad?
I dont know, Michael Im not sure
For the first time, Emily keeps her worry from Michael, fearing hell be unsettled. She clings to the tiny head of a child she once held for a minute, feeling its weight while Michael wraps the baby in his coat. That sensation haunts her.
Michael stays silent too, fearing to stir Emilys anxiety. He knows how painful it was for her to hold a strangers infant, discarded without remorse. She wanted to be a mother, but was denied that mercy.
Then disaster strikes: Molly disappears. Emily lets her out as usual, lets her do her business, bends to clean up, and finds the dog gone. She searches neighbouring yards, calls under every bush, returns home, and phones Michael to continue the hunt together. Yet Molly is nowhere.
Two days and nights pass, Emily sobs and roams the neighbourhood. On the third day, a muddy, rainsoaked Molly staggers back, alive.
Molly! My joy! Emily exclaims, cradling her. Where have you been?
Molly licks Emilys nose, presenting her shaggy head for a pat, and suddenly Emilys mind flashes to the tiny, round head shed held brieflythe baby.
Michael! she cries, but hes already at her side, ready for something important.
That evening, Emily finally tells Michael everything: her fears, her dreams, the boy she cant stop thinking about, the one they found that autumn morning with Molly.
Do you think theyve taken him into a family? she asks, wiping tears with a kitchen towel that cant hold the flood.
I dont know, love. We could ask the social services. If hes been taken, thank God. If not
Michael doesnt press further. He pulls Emily close, rests his shoulder on hers, and says, Lets get some sleep. Tomorrows a new day.
Six months later, Tommy looks into the eyes of a woman he wont remember and reaches out to a tall, sturdy man:
Im Tom.
Michael gently shakes the offered hand, then glances at his wife:
Stop whining, love! Time to go home.
