Im With You
Paul, I dont know what to do! She just wont listen to anyone! Shes set on having the baby! A baby, Paul? Really, a baby? Shes only nineteen! Her whole life is ahead of her! Shell drop out of university and then what? Shovelling snow off the pavements for work? We have to sort this out! You need to help me!
How, Mum?
Pauls voice was so cold that Irene almost dropped the phone. Hed never spoken to her that way before hed always been her warm, kind boy And now this. Where had she gone wrong? It wasnt her fault all this had happened it was Laura! Got it into her head she was in love. Foolish girl! Should have listened to her mother. But whats the point in complaining now? Shed let Laura off the leash, spoilt her, tried to be her friend Well, now she had to reap what she’d sown. All those years of parenting, and for what? Why did it have to be like this? Paul was a wonderful son clever, polite, thoughtful. Always happy to help, even though he lived on his own these days. Well, as he should a grown man with his own place, even if he wasnt married yet. How often had she told him it was time to settle down? And she so wanted grandchildren! How much longer could she wait? It had been different when Laura was a child, all the dashing about between clubs and competitions. There hadnt been any time to worry about age or reflect. But now? Laura was independent, and though shed stopped sport, she was hardly home. Always rushing here and there: classes, friends, volunteering, and now, on top of it all, *him*. Lord knows where shed found that strange young man as spineless as they come! Irene had seen through him straight away, but Laura had fallen in love. Shed never had a knack for judging people; always thought the best of everyone. No matter how often Irene tried to explain there were far fewer good ones out there than Laura believed, it never sank in. Now look whats happened. With Christmas round the corner, and all she had was a throbbing headache. And now Paul, too! What was with that tone? Why did he speak to her like that?
Paul, why are you speaking to me like this?
Where is she, Mum? Paul snapped the cars steering wheel as he turned into a side street and pulled over. His usual calm had vanished at the word baby. His hands shook on the wheel, and for a moment, the urge to rage and shout, just as he once had, filled him. But yelling hadnt helped then, and it wouldn’t now. The only thing to do was steady himself and try to do something if not for his own child (hed never known if his late girlfriend, Sophie, had been expecting a boy or girl), then for this baby Lauras there was still hope for this child. Oh, Mum! What are you doing? You always loved Laura more than me. A late-in-life daughter the apple of your eye, and who could blame you? Those blue eyes, those delicate golden curls, Laura had always been beautiful. From birth, really. Paul had seen lots of babies among his extended family of aunts, cousins and second cousins. All those children looked the same the Brown family stamp. Strong blue-grey eyes, stocky bodies, big chubby arms and legs, always proudly shown off to the whole clan the fatter, the better. But Laura had taken everyone aback. The eyes were the familys, but everything else? The elegant swan neckline, marble-smooth, sculpted arms and legs so slender and fine it was as though a master sculptor had worked in miniature. Mum would even hide her eyes at first, embarrassed by her daughters difference. Later, though, pride sparkled in her gaze as Laura floated among her cousins at family parties. She stood out from all the rest; it was impossible not to notice her.
Where does such beauty spring from! the aunts would sigh jealously, adjusting ribbons and frocks on their own girls.
And when Laura first set foot on a gymnastics mat in her bright leotard, stretching those pointed toes in careful routine, it became clear she was made for more than just turning heads.
Mum devoted herself to Lauras gymnastics, while Paul was left to himself, finally out of Mums constant spotlight. She did love him, but she just couldnt help showing off oh, Paul had won the school physics prize, the top one, so his future was secure! A genius, shed say to anyone whod listen. If anyone ever forgot how marvellous her eldest was, Irene would remind them instantly:
Pauls just won the big maths competition too! Raising children? Oh, theres nothing complicated about it, you just have to be involved, thats all.
She never noticed the pursed lips or wary frowns of her listeners. She lived in her own perfect world brilliant, beautiful children, a devoted husband, a rewarding career whenever she chose to teach English (and she was, truthfully, an exceptional tutor often recommended among friends, even if her lessons cost twice what anyone else in town charged).
It depends what people want results or saving money. Those who wont cut corners on their kids know Ill get them to university, no matter what.
Paul never could work out how his mother managed everything Lauras training, the house, her lessons. She was a born organiser, scheduling every minute. It was a skill shed instilled in him, too, and one he now relied on every day.
So, his whole day was mapped out, and thankfully it was almost evening when Mum rang with her news and scattered all his careful plans.
How long had it been since hed heard that fateful:
Im pregnant. But Im not keeping it. Im too young, not ready for the responsibility. This is on you youll have to help sort it out. Ive found the clinic; the rest is up to you.
God, the row theyd had For three years of living together, Paul had never shouted at Sophie, but he did that night so loud the windows shook. He was furious and hurt hadnt he offered, time and again, to marry her, start a family? He had everything they needed a flat (small, but enough for two), a car, a decent enough business. He wasnt rich, but neither was Sophie a princess. Just a normal girl from another course, whod come from some tiny out-of-the-way town. She always laughed when Paul tried to pronounce it. Theyd clicked right away, after shed run into him in the university hall one day, rushing and cross, while he was busy scribbling equations onto a wall.
Why are you blocking the way? No paper in the country, that youre writing on the wall? Do you do that at home, too?
Bristling, hopping to remove a broken-heeled shoe, she scolded him, then dashed barefoot to an exam, while Paul watched, bewitched. Afterwards, Sophie bounced up, waved her marked exam at him and grinned:
Top marks! That deserves a celebration. Any ideas?
Theyd dated for a year before moving in together. At that time, Paul had cared for his grandfather, since his mother always seemed to be travelling and his father was rarely home. When Grandad passed, Pauls parents thought his flat was too small, but Paul didnt mind until, suddenly alone, the place felt empty without Grandads cheerful grumbling in the mornings.
Up you get, lad! Made your breakfast.
Grandad had been indestructible, like an old tug on the Thames, until Granny died.
Soon itll be my turn. Whats the point now shes gone?
Oh, dont say that, Grandad! What about me? What about Laura?
Ill hang on a bit longer, just to see what becomes of you. But after that, Im off to join my darling.
Hed always called her my darling soft, gentle soul, never even scolded Grandad properly. Youre in a mood today, Paul, shed say, and just smile. Not a word of reproach; no rows. Its easier to miss someone youve forgiven, Grandad used to say. Otherwise, everything around you presses in. Paul could see Grandad fading, and thats when he truly understood love a love that outlasted distance and time.
It was a love Paul had hoped for with Sophie, but he knew it wasnt there when she coldly reached for his card to pay for her appointment.
She took the card herself. After the argument, she stuffed her bits into a bag and, without asking, grabbed Pauls wallet from his coat and left with a slam. He realised only when his phone buzzed with a bank alert about a hefty withdrawal. He rang up and froze the card, then drove to his parents.
Mum fussed and wailed, but Dad put an arm around him:
Whatever you need, son, were here.
He didnt tell his parents what had really happened, just that he and Sophie had split up. He knew Mum would fret and curse Sophie, so best she assumed Paul had ended it for the usual incompatible personalities. Easier that way.
That night, he sat in his childhood room on the sagging old sofa, left untouched by his parents strange nostalgia, weighed down by the blackest thoughts. Was there any light at all? It arrived itself, really. Laura wandered in, watched him from the doorway, then perched on the old rug beside him in her peculiar giraffe-limbed way, wiped his tears with her long fingers, and whispered:
Youre having a rotten time, Paul. What can I do? I want to help, I really do.
Just stay with me. So I dont do anything stupid.
She did. She stayed all night, silent, until the alarm went off and Mum realised Laura wasnt in her bed. Mum thought her daughter was just up early before a big competition, and didnt guess theyd sat in quiet into the wee hours, until eventually the words just came and neither of them stopped talking. Laura, so much younger, had become, in that night, a soul of deep warmth andyeswisdom. She pulled everything out of him, listened, and with just the right, simple words, showed Paul that life went on, that something good might still wait.
Laura, you should study psychology!
She blushed so fiercely that he knew it had been her dream. But that wasnt Mums vision; she wanted a world-class athlete for a daughter, and shed do anything to get it. Like always, Mum burst into his room, scolded Laura for not being washed, tugged Pauls hair (knowing full well that gesture irritated him), and dashed off to cook breakfast.
Laura won her event that day, dancing on the mat with a grace that made even the judges raise their eyebrows: where did such musicality come from in a girl so young? Carmens Habanera blared through the hall, and Laura poured into the music everything her brother had told her pain, confusion, hope, the loss and the promise of new strength.
Those championships might have set Laura up for a sporting career; there were even talks about moving to London. But then disaster. Walking home one evening from training, absentmindedly, she didnt notice two lads following her. The plan had been for Dad to pick her up, but hed had to work late, and Laura, headstrong, thought shed manage just fine. Only a ten-minute walk, after all.
Excuse me, love! In a rush, arent you? Weve got a lovely dog here! Just look at him!
A low growl behind her made Laura speed up shed always been frightened of dogs. She remembered not to run, not to provoke them, but the only entrance to her block of flats was just steps away, with a light on and people inside. Almost at the door, she slipped on a frosty step and fell.
She woke in hospital. Mum sat pale and hollow-eyed, staring into space. Lauras head spun; her legs hurt terribly.
Mum
Youre awake? Mums eyes, puffy with tears, regarded her. Oh, sweetheart, how could this happen?
Laura never really knew, in that moment, whether her mother regretted more the complex fracture, the time it would take to recover, or the end of her daughters sporting future. She saw no real sympathy, no words of comfort nothing she’d ever wanted to hear, that it would all be alright. But Paul gave her what she needed:
Dont mope, little one! I know it hurts. Fancy a huge cake? We can stuff ourselves till our tummies ache! Or Ill carry you out for some air, and you can throw snowballs at me from a bench. In fact, Ill buy you the snazziest crutches, and we can start prepping you for uni. Still want to be a psychologist?
He hugged her, and she hid in his arms where, just for a moment, the pain ebbed a bit.
Recovery took longer than expected, but by the end of first year at uni, Laura could walk almost freely again not with the same bird-like lightness, and sometimes she felt like a lost mermaid, but at least the crutches and walking stick were gone. Shed had the crutches painted pink and pearly especially for her by Paul, initially meaning to keep them as a reminder; but after meeting the volunteers in her search group, she realised others had it even harder. She passed her crutches to Helena coordinator born disabledwho, despite everything, managed to be useful and in the thick of things, running a bit of a command centre from her flat.
Not much sleep or peace here, Helen Laura would mutter, slicing up yet another round of sandwiches and brewing the tenth pot of tea, as they prepared provisions for those out searching for a missing boy.
Why would I want peace, Laura? I need to help. Im needed thats what matters, isnt it?
It was in the group that Laura met Mark.
Mum was right about one thing: Mark was so unremarkable, so half-present, he blended in with the wallpaper but he somehow managed to do the work of three. Laura knew his story but kept it from her mum, sensing shed never approve or forgive her for falling for someone beneath her. By her reckoning, Mark wasnt good enough for Laura.
Hed joined the group when his stepdad went missing. Mark searched all day before finally calling the volunteer line the police having refused to take a missing persons report for less than three days.
His relationship with his stepdad, Mr Jenkins, was special. Marks mum, Zina, had been left when Mark was just a baby, never even married to his father. He lived quietly with his grandparents, only seeing his mum occasionally when she worked away, so that by the time she returnedwith a new partnerhe could barely recognise her. When Zinas next partner, a stern man named Martin, tried to exert strict discipline, Mark ran away crying. His grandfather brought him home and promised hed never have to live with Martin again. His mum tried to apologise, but Mark dug his heels in, and she didnt insist.
She and Martin split soon after, and several months down the line, Mr Jenkins a calm, older widower, much encouraged by Zinas friends entered their lives. Mark didnt warm to him at first, but everything changed after a fishing trip. Side by side in silence, something shifted between them, and Jenkins never fished alone again; he gifted Mark his best rod, and they carved out those hours by the river together, just for themselves. Mark started confiding in him over anyone else.
His grandparents passed not long apart, and so Mark moved in with his mum and stepdad. Things soon changed again when his mum died suddenly, but there was never a question, after Jenkins legally adopted him, of what would happen to Mark next.
Jenkins disappeared coming home one evening, just enough time to call Mark and ask him to buy bread, then was gone. The bus driver remembered him easy to mix people up in winter coats, but the man had looked just like his own brother-in-law. The driver pointed to a bright orange poster in the bus, for the volunteer search group: theyd help. And they did just too late. They found Mr Jenkins, collapsed of exposure in the park. Why hed left the bus early, why cut through the park, would forever remain a mystery.
After the funeral, Mark came to Helen the next day:
What do I need to do? I want to help.
Paul met Mark soon after Laura did.
I really like him, Paul. Maybe more than like
Thats good, isnt it?
I think so.
Whats he like?
I think hes kind
Paul got to know Mark better and had to agree Laura was right. Of course, they made an odd pair Laura, elegant as a faerie, and Mark, so plain youd miss him. Paul could see the effect Mark had on their parents and gave Laura his full support:
As long as hes a good person, thats what matters.
Mum huffed in disapproval but kept quiet. Dad pushed his glasses up his nose, considered, then nodded.
Well, now look what happened
Paul started the engine and carefully edged out of the side street. He had to find Laura. He doubted shed do something reckless after the argument with Mum, but you never could be sure He knew for a fact Mum wouldnt have given her the chance to speak, so she had no idea Mark was gone. And yet his child remained
A silly, tragic accident had taken Marks life. Late one night, talking to Laura on the phone, hed stepped into the road a few yards from the crossing, bundled in a black winter coat instead of the grey he usually wore. The driver couldnt have seen him Paul had driven that stretch of the High Street and knew how poor the lighting there was. Mark, in dark clothes at dusk, didnt stand a chance.
It happened two days ago. The funeral was tomorrow, and Laura still hadnt told her parents. Since hearing the news, shed been in a daze, her tears stuck somewhere inside.
The tears wont come, Paul. I cant cry I just whimper into my pillow so Mum and Dad dont hear.
Havent you told them?
I cant. Mum would start and right now, I just cant handle it.
Why hadnt Laura told Paul about the baby? Maybe she herself only just found out. If so, why not call him?
Too many questions no answers at all.
Helens front door was, as ever, unlocked. Paul knocked on the kitchen doorway until Helen turned around.
Wheres Laura, Helen?
In my room. Shes waiting for you.
The room was dark, but Paul quickly pulled his hand back from the light switch. If Laura had been crying, her eyes would hurt.
Paul
Im here.
Good
Her sigh was so soft, so ragged, that Paul hastened to the narrow bed, scooped his sister up in her blanket, and hugged her gently but securely.
Dont be afraid, little one, Im with you! Well get through this! I know it feels like nothing will ever be good again, but thats not true. Therell be a baby, and a new life. That child is going to be wonderful, with a mum and dad like theirs you just wait and see.
Laura gave the tiniest sob and then at last began to cry properly, burying her tangled head in his shoulder.
You should have trained as a psychologist yourself, Paul Youd have been brilliant I just feel so awful now! If you only knew how bad
That night Paul took Laura back to his flat and told their parents: Lauras living with me now, and if you dont want to lose both your children, youre going to have to accept that shell make her own choices from now on.
It was all tough going after that. Lauras pregnancy was gruelling, the morning sickness nearly unbearable right to the end, and there were negotiations with the parents who, in the end, realised their children were adults, and wouldnt take their opinions as law. True, most of these negotiations were with Irene, since Laura and Pauls father quietly visited all the time, helping Laura prepare for the new arrival and finding her a wonderful doctor who helped as much as possible.
Little Victoria came into the world early in the morning, after a long and exhausting labour, her first wail so loud the midwife burst out laughing:
Oh my, what a set of lungs! Mums a fairy, but the babys a basso! Whos she take after?
Her dad Laura gazed at her daughters crumpled, scowling face and smiled. Here was new life. Mark would live on in her, for the baby seemed to have anything but Brown family eyes. Pauls line would go on through him; but Victoria would carry Marks legacy.
Three years later.
Vicky! Come here, Ive brought you a present!
Paul! Another one? Laura poked her head out from the kitchen, hands dusted in flour. Its only Christmas, not her birthday. Stop spoiling her!
Im allowed! That was from your uncle; this ones from your godfather!
Vicky let go of the old cats tail he sprawled across the living room floor, tolerating her abuses with the air of a saint. Paul had sold his flat and used the cash to buy two small ones, side by side in a new block, one for Laura and Vicky, one for himself, to always be close by.
Vickys pensive Mark-gleaming eyes locked onto the box in Pauls hands, and when he opened it, she lit up like the fairy lights on the tree.
Do you like it?
Vicky gingerly poked at the glass baubles in the box.
Am I allowed?
Of course! Theyre yours. Shall we put them on the tree?
Laura, wiping her hands on her apron, came in as Paul, hoisting his niece, helped her hang the Nutcracker.
Goodness! Its like a fairytale. Paul, theyre beautiful. But arent they glass? What if they smash?
Not to worry I know where to get more! And just look how much Vicky loves them.
The little girl, sitting under the tree, hugging the cat with one arm and chattering away rapidly, was desperate that he not tire of her story and slink away before she could reach the happy ending. She knew the whole ballet now yesterday Paul had treated them to the theatre, and ever since, shed twirled around the flat trying to copy the dancers.
I think were surplus to requirements here, sis! And you said it would bore her!
I said shed be too little to sit still. Shows what I know. Whod have thought my daughter would be so peaceful?
Paul shot her a sceptical look and laughed.
Ill remind you of those words when its bedtime and we see whos peaceful then! Now, will someone feed me? I need to get to work before the evening shift.
Cant you stay? Mum and Dad will be here any minute!
Thatll give them more time with their granddaughter. Ill be back tonight. Got to give the cat a break. Shell wear him out at this rate.
Did you know Mums found a ballet school for Vicky?
Oh, blimey.
Exactly. What shall we do?
Well try to channel her loving granny energy in a useful direction.
What if we cant?
Then remember youre her mum. And Ill support you all the way. She wont win against the two of us.
You think?
Im sure of it! Will I ever get something to eat around here?
You will! Youre hopeless when will I find you a wife, so someone else can feed you?
Laura dodged a playful slap and darted from the room laughing.
Mums been at you again, hasnt she? Dont you start! Ill never have my own nephews at this rate!
Oh, women!
The little porcelain Clara spun delicately on the tree, nudged by a tiny finger. Vicky hummed to herself, then leapt up and started dancing. Even the old cat moved aside, letting her twirl past. Who knows, perhaps the next Margot Fonteyn was in their midstPaul lingered by the door, watching Vicky spin: her arms outstretched, face bright with the earnestness of childhood and the stubborn magic that stitched the broken places closed. He caught Lauras gazea whole conversation passed in a single look: grief and relief, the ache and pride of surviving enough winters to savor this warmth.
Outside, snow began to dust the window ledge, each flake catching a shimmer of streetlight. Paul pulled his scarf tighter and paused, overwhelmed for a moment by the soft hum of life inside: his sister kneading dough, his niece chasing impossible sugar-plum dreams, laughter drifting up like steam from a just-boiled kettle. For the first time in years, the weariness of old heartbreaks seemed smaller, tucked away behind a thousand tiny miraclesthe cats tolerant patience, Lauras eyes brighter each day, Vickys giggle breaking through stern adult talk.
He turned on his heel, half out the door, then looked back. Laura, elbow-deep in flour, smiled. In that kitchen, with the fairy lights and jumble of old ornaments, they were imperfect but wholea family remade by loss, rewoven by love.
Merry Christmas, Paul, Laura called, her voice steady and sure.
He grinned. Merry Christmas, Lu. And you, VickyCareful now, Claras not a football!
Im not! Vicky squealed, whisking the Nutcracker high above her head, dancing past the cat, who merely blinked and curled tighter on the rug.
Paul stepped into the corridor, heart light. No matter what camethe worries, the memories, even Irenes unstoppable planshe knew now: they could hold each other up come what may. Mark might be gone, old sorrows forever threaded through their days, but new joys blossomed right alongside.
And behind the closed door, laughter kept echoingwarm, bright, unbreakable as glass baubles in the hands of love.
