Get out! shouted Brian.
His mother started to rise, clutching the edge of the table. What are you doing, my boy
Im not your boy! Brian grabbed her handbag and flung it into the hallway. I dont want to see you here ever again!
Maria flinched. In six years, shed never heard him yell like that.
Little Annie slept, arms stretched out like a tiny starfish. Maria gently tucked the blanket around her, watching her daughter with quiet joy. All those years longing for this child, fighting to become a mother.
Brian was home from his night shiftshe knew by the shuffle in the hallway. She closed the nursery door behind her as she stepped out. Brian was unlacing his shoes, looking worn and noticeably thinner. He worked himself to the bone, desperate to pay off the loans they took out for IVF.
She asleep? he whispered.
She is. Ate, then nodded off.
He pulled Maria into his arms, burying his face in her neck. He rarely spoke about love, but she knew just how grateful he was. So grateful she hadnt left for someone healthy, so grateful she made him a father.
At sixteen, Brian had mumps and never told his mother, too embarrassed to admit the pain and swelling. By the time he owned up, it was too latethe complications left him nearly completely sterile.
Mum called, he murmured, his arms still tight around her.
Maria tensed. And what does Mrs Taylor want?
Shes visiting. Says shes baked pies. Misses us.
Maria sighed, gently escaping his embrace. Brian, do we have to? Last time she drove me mad with her advice about vinegar rinses.
Maria, shes my mum. She just wants to see her granddaughter. Its been a year, and shes only seen Annie in photos. She is family.
Family, Maria echoed bitterly. She called our daughter a little freak.
They adopted Annie a year ago. The waiting lists for healthy newborns here in Kent went on so long youd lose your hair waiting. Their connections helpeda discreet envelope stuffed with pounds for the department and a helpful midwife.
Annie was born to a sixteen-year-old, terrified schoolgirl. Had she kept the baby, her own life would have unravelled.
Maria remembered that day vividlythe tiny bundle weighing six and a half pounds, two blue eyes meeting hers.
Fine, said Maria. Let her come. Well survive. But if she starts again
She wont, Brian promised. Honestly.
Mrs Taylor arrived for lunch, filling the flat with her booming presence. She was a large woman, loud, with country grit enough to stop a horse or put out a house fire. She set her tartan bag down and moaned straight away, Blimey! The train was a nightmare, tubes packedthought Id never make it. Why do you live so high up? Lift rattles, scared half to death!
Afternoon, Mum. Brian pecked her cheek, hefting the heavy bag. Come in, wash your hands.
Coat off, Mrs Taylor revealed a loud floral dress perched atop her powerful frame, eyeing Maria from head to toe, like judging a prize calf at a show.
Maria forced a smile. Hello, Mrs Taylor.
Hello, hello. She pressed her lips tight. Maria, you look like a stick. Whats Brian supposed to hold onto, bones? Hes wasting away. You not feeding the man? Are you on grass and starving him along?
Brian eats just fine, Maria retorted, her cheeks burning. Lets have lunch.
In the kitchen, Mrs Taylor began emptying her bagpies, homemade pickles, a hunk of bacon.
Here, eat! Londons all chemicals. You chew plastic.
She slumped at the table, elbows planted firmly. So how are you? Paid off your loans for those, what do you call ’em, experiments?
Maria gripped her fork. Experiments! Six years of pain, hope, and despairdismissed.
Nearly paid off, Mum, Brian muttered, helping himself to salad. Lets not talk about money.
What else is there to talk about? Mrs Taylor chomped a pie. The weather? Back in Dartford, your brother Nicks wife just had their thirdlittle girl, right as rain. Four kilos! Sister Susans expecting twins. Thats what I call a proper family! Stock! The Taylors are fruitfulgood genes, you see
She stared at Maria meaningfully. Providing you dont mess about with them, of course
Maria set her fork down slowly. Mrs Taylor, weve been over this a hundred times. Its not me. We have the doctors reports.
Oh, get off! Mrs Taylor waved her hand. Doctors write papers to grab your money. Mumpsplease! Half the village lads had it, theyve all got a squad of kids.
Shes pulling the wool over your eyes, Brian, so you dont see her own problems.
Mum! Brian slammed his hand on the table. Enough!
Mrs Taylor slapped her chest. Dont you raise your voice at me! I raised five, I know life. I can seeskinny hips, no room for babies. A barren branch!
Were happy, Mum, Brian replied quietly. We have Annie.
A daughter, is it? Mrs Taylor snorted. Lets see her, then.
They went to the nursery. Annie was awake, fiddling with her stuffed bear. Spotting a stranger, Annie frowned but didnt cryshe was a calm soul.
Mrs Taylor approached the cot. Maria moved nearer, ready to snatch Annie away. One never knew with Mrs Taylor.
She squinted at the little girl, then reached out and touched her chubby cheek. Annie pulled away.
And who does she take after? Mrs Taylor grumbled. Dark eyeseveryone in our familys fair-eyed.
Theyre blue, Maria corrected. Dark blue.
And the nose? Look at that. Yours is sharp, Brians is straight. This ones a spud.
She brushed her hands off, almost as if dirty.
Wrong blood, wrong stock!
Back in the kitchen, Brian poured himself water; his hands shook. Mum, listen, he began softly. We love Annie. Shes ours, legally and in our hearts. And well keep trying ourselvesthe doctors say its slim, but possible. But even if not, were a family.
Mrs Taylor pursed her lips, brimming with frustration. The mother of five, grandmother to twelve, found it physically painful to watch her son, her flesh and blood, pour his love into someone elses child.
Youre a fool, Brian, she sighed deeply. A total fool. Thirty-five, a prime man, and you waste time on a foundling!
Dont you dare call her that! Maria snapped.
What should I call her, then? Mrs Taylor rotated, squaring off. Princess?
Best keep quiet, dear! Cant even have kids yourself, tricked my son into this. Paid off the authorities Bought the child like a kitten at a market!
Shes ours!
A childs your own when you carry hersleepless nights, morning sickness, and the pain of birth!
This she swept her hand toward the nursery. Dolls and teacups. Picked a ready-made. From some irresponsible girl.
Think you can hack out genes with an axe? Shell show you trouble soon enough. Just like her mother. Get rid before its too late!
Maria saw Brians eyes widen. He rose slowly.
Leave, he said quietly.
Mrs Taylor blinked. What?
Get out! Brian roared.
Maria jumped. Hed never shouted like that before.
What are you doing, my boy Mrs Taylor tried to stand, gripping the table.
Im not your boy! Brian grabbed her bag and tossed it into the hallway. Dont come back! Give up our child? You think shes some worn-out object? Shes my daughter! Mine! And you you
He struggled for breath.
Youre a monster, not a mother! Get back to your village and count your worthy stock. Leave us in peace! Dont you ever come back!
A childs cry echoed from the nursery. Maria rushed for the door, pausing to watch Mrs Taylors face turn from red to ash-grey.
Mrs Taylors mouth opened and shut, gasping like a fish out of water. The hand gripping her chest clawed at her dress.
Brian she rasped. Burns It burns
Suddenly, she slumped heavily to the floor, tipping over the chair. Her collapse mingled with Annies frightened wail.
Maria phoned for an ambulance. Brian dropped to his knees by his mothers side, trembling as he tried to loosen her collar.
Mum, please. Breathe, Mum!
Mrs Taylor wheezed and jolted.
The paramedics arrived fast. The lead medic yelled from the door, Heart attackmajor! Stretcher, quick!
Once they left, Brian sat against the hallway wall, staring at her forgotten handkerchief.
Did I do that to her? he asked.
Maria sat beside him, holding his icy hand. No. She did it herself, with her anger.
She is still my mum, Maria.
She wanted to cast away our child like faulty goods! Brian, wake upyou protected your family.
His phone buzzed an hour later. Calls from Susan. Then Nick. Brian ignored them.
Then a message from an aunt: Your mums in ICU. Doctors say its not good. You did this, you monster! May you rot for it. The whole family curses you! Dont come near!
So, thats it then. Ive no family left.
Maria put her arms around his shoulders, feeling his body tremble.
You have us, she said firmly. Me. Annie. Were your familyreal family. The kind that stays.
She rose, gently pulling him up.
Come on. Annie needs feeding. Shes scared.
That evening, they sat in the kitchen. Annie, soothed, played with blocks at their feet. Brian watched her as if seeing her for the first time.
You know, he said suddenly, my mum was right about one thing.
Maria tensed. What?
You cant scrub out genes with a finger. But genes arent just noses and eye colour. Genes mean kindness. The ability to love.
Mum had five kids, but her hearts stone. Maybe I am adopted. At least I know how to love. Dont I, little one?
He lifted Annie into his arms. She grabbed his nose, giggledand then, clearly, Daddy.
For the first time. Before, just baby babbling.
Brian froze. The tears hed held back all day spilled down his cheeks, dripping on her pink dungarees.
Daddy, he echoed. Yes, darling. Im your daddy. And Ill never let you go.
His mother survived, but Brian no longer speaks to her. To the family, hes now their black sheep.
Maria almost feels relieved to say it, though ashamedlife is so much easier without the endless hurt and jeering.
Who needs family like that? Theyll be fine without them
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