I remember the day I first heard the newssomeone had left a baby at the foundling window near the maternity ward of St. Bartholomews Hospital. It was a story that rippled through our small English town like a whispered secret.
It had been only three months since I lost my husband, and my heart was still heavy with grief. Yet when I learned of the abandoned child, something stirred within me. I decided to open my heart and home to the little one. The days that followed were a whirl of collecting all the necessary papers and forms, a task that demanded all my attention. Thankfully, I managed to gather everything in good time. There were visits from various authorities, each checking my home and assessing whether I could provide a proper upbringing. In the end, their reports were favourable.
Not long after, a small boy came into my life and, from the very first moment, I adored him as if he were my own flesh and blood. I gave him my late husbands name, William. It warmed and comforted me to speak and hear that name again within our home. As William grew, his curiosity blossomed, and soon he began asking if he might have a brother or sister.
This notion didnt trouble me in the slightest. I worked from home, with all my business managed on my laptop, so I could be present and attentive in their lives. I remember returning home with such joy the day we went to meet the second child who would join our family. The nurse led me to a small room where, swaddled in a cradle, lay a baby girl just three days old. The instant I saw her, my heart welled with love and I knew she was meant to be ours. This time, with familiarity guiding me, the arrangements for adoption moved along with far greater ease.
So, that is how our family came to bejust the three of us: myself, my son William, and my daughter Alice. Looking back, I truly believe we were the happiest people in all of England.
