How could you let yourself fall so low? My dear girl, arent you ashamed? Youve hands and feet, why arent you working? people would say to the beggar woman sitting with a child.
Margaret Ford ambled slowly past the shelves of the vast supermarket, taking in the rows of colourful packages. She visited here every day, almost as if it were her job. She didnt have a big family to cook forthere was no one at home. So each evening, the elderly woman would escape her lonely little flat for the bright lights and bustle of the supermarket.
Warm weather made things more bearableshe could pass the time on a bench nattering with neighbours. But in winter, when there was little choice, Margaret had come to love these outings to the big new supermarket.
There were always plenty of people, the rich aroma of coffee drifting through the aisles and soft background music playing overhead. All those goods in shiny wrappers reminded her of toys in a shop window, enough to lift her spirits for a while.
She picked up a small pot of strawberry yoghurt, squinting to try and read the ingredients, then put it back. Yoghurt like that was dearshe couldnt afford the treat, but she could look.
Gazing at the abundant products, she slipped into memories of a different time.
Images surfaced of long queues at the local grocers, where the shop ladies doled out scarce goods in thick brown paper bags. She smiled, remembering how shed bring up her daughter, willing to brave any wait just to see her smile. Remembering Lily made her heart ache. Margaret paused at the freezer full of fish, leaning on it for support.
She could see her Lilys laughing face framed by curls of red hair, big grey eyes, and that shower of freckles. She was so beautiful, Margaret thought with a pang.
Casting a quick glance at the bakery counter under the wary gaze of a shop assistant, Margaret moved on.
Lily was her one true joy. She grew into a clever young woman, and when she realised her job wouldnt bring her happiness, she took a path Margaret had begged her to avoidshe volunteered to be a surrogate. But no twenty-year-old wants to heed a mothers warning. If her father had still been around, perhaps things might have gone differently. But those dreadful people had no business involving her innocent daughter in something so complicated.
Lily had laughed it off, hand on her swollen belly, while her mothers heart twisted. “How will you give up a child youve carried for nine months?” Margaret would ask. But Lily shruggedIts not a real baby anymore, just a good sum of money.
The birth was difficult, and Lily didnt survive. They hardly seemed to try. Just three days after bringing a little girl into the world, she was gone. The baby was taken immediately. Of course, Margaret never saw a pennyafter all, the arrangement hadnt been with her, but with her daughter.
Left bereft of relatives, Margaret buried her child and fell into a vast emptiness. She felt it was almost easier not to come back out.
Now, as she neared the bakery section, she fished out a few pound coins from her coat and made to buy just enough to look as if she wasnt loitering. She handed the exact change to the cashier and hid the rest in her palmenough for one days entertainment, then time to go home.
Margaret had spotted the young beggar woman shortly after the supermarket opened about a month ago. Shed noticed her immediately, perhaps because of her youth, or the tragic stillness of her posture, or the gentle, protective way she held her infant.
How can someone let themselves end up like this? Margaret thought, approaching the familiar figure. She dropped a few coins into the tin beside her and said, Dear, arent you ashamed? You have your health, surely you could work. Youre still so young.
She caught sight of passers-by quickening their pace, blocked by her presence in the narrow path.
Thank you for the coins, but please move on. I have to collect all I can, or therell be trouble, the young woman murmured.
Margaret shook her head in sorrow and backed away, not wanting to lecture. Shed help in her own way. It seemed no one else carednot the police, not social services. People were so used to beggars that they didnt even see them anymore.
All the way home, Margaret couldnt shake the image of the girl and her baby. There was something familiar about the soft grey eyes, the voice, the way she spokewhere had she seen them before? She tried in vain to recall.
Back in her small flat, she slipped off her boots, turned on the lights, and brought her bread into the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, she was sipping sweet tea from her favourite mug, nibbling brown bread with a thin slice of ham.
She must be famished, that girl, Margaret thought. How does she stand the cold? What a life.
She looked from the window, scanning for the girl outside the supermarket, and started with fear. Two rough-looking men were shoving the young woman into a car.
Unsettled, she ran to the phone to call the police, but stopped, terrified she might make things worse.
Peering out again, she saw the area empty. She decided to wait for morning; shed never have caught the number plate anyway.
Margaret hardly slept, worrying about the girl and her baby. In the early hours, she dreamt of Lilyher daughter, standing at the supermarket doors with a baby in her arms. The baby was blue with cold, and in her dream, Margaret hugged her tight, trying to warm her. But Lily didnt seem to mind.
Im not cold, Mum, she said.
Margaret looked at the baby and slipped back the blanket to see a doll wearing a familiar pendant round its neck.
With a familiar locket on her neck, murmured Margaret.
She woke with a jolt, glancing at the clock on the wall.
Why did I sleep so long? she wondered.
It was nine in the morning. She hurried to the window.
There was the young woman, back in her usual place by the supermarket entrance. All was well.
Thank God, Margaret whispered, clutching her chest.
It was New Years Eve and the frost was biting. The girl and her child had been out in the cold for more than an hour now.
Quickly, Margaret made up sandwiches with bread and ham, filled a flask with hot sweet tea, and started piling on her layers.
Seeing Margaret approach, the girl looked anxious and hid a bruise on her temple with her scarf.
Dont worry, love, said Margaret, handing her the food. I just dont want you going hungry.
The girls eyes glimmered as she took the sandwiches. She sat on a bench and wolfed them down, hardly chewing, coughing between bites and glancing at her baby, who screamed in another beggars arms. She finished the last bite, gulped some tea, brushed the crumbs from her lap and hurried back to Margaret.
Thank you. Thisll keep us going until seven, then theyll collect us, she said quietly.
All day, Margaret watched from her window, checking the thermometer outside the frost was only getting worse.
By five, shed filled a jar with hot stew and walked back to the supermarket, buying some bits and pieces for the traditional New Years Eve salad. She couldnt afford a feast, but it would be enough.
Passing by the young woman, she set down the stew beside her and slipped a few more coins into her coat. With a conspiratorial wink, Margaret hurried back into the brightly-lit warmth.
She planned not to dawdle this time. Sausage and pickled onions for the salad, a bit of fish for the oven. She thought perhaps an elderly neighbour might drop by for midnight.
But when Margaret left the shop, the young woman was goneand the jar of stew was missing too. Shes probably eating somewhere warm, Margaret thought hopefully, and hurried home.
Later, cutting up pickles for the salad and putting the carp in the oven, she wondered if anyone would call round to share her simple meal.
As ten oclock approached, she looked out again. The Christmas lights sparkled in front of the supermarket. Seated under a streetlamp, the familiar hunched figure shook with silent sobs.
Margaret dashed around her flat, heart thumping. In her slippers with a warm shawl draped over her shoulders, she hurried down the stairs and found the girl on a bench.
Theres nowhere left for me to go, the girl whispered as Margaret sat beside her, struggling for breath.
Something in her watery grey eyes clung to Margaret.
Pleaselook after him, the girl said, pressing the little bundle into Margarets arms, and then she shuffled off towards the main road.
The meaning struck Margaret with a cold claritythe young woman meant to end it all. She surged after her, caught her up and spun her round.
No, you dont. Come with me. Youre coming home, Margaret insisted, grabbing her hand and leading her resolutely towards the nearby block of flats.
In the warmth, Margaret unpacked the baby by the heater.
Whats your name? she asked, but stopped at the sight of a pendant in the girls babys clothes: a little teddy bear locket.
The girl noticed her look and said quietly, Dont worry, its the only thing I have left from my mum.
Margaret froze. That locketshe could never mistake it. Shed given it to Lily for her sixteenth birthday. Money had been tight that yearshed sold her old brooch to a jeweller, who had the idea to turn the jewel into a locket and paid enough for a simple gold chain and a small tea party for Lilys friends.
The girl shrugged off her coat and looked at Margaret expectantly.
Would it be all right if I had a shower?
Margaret nodded, still reeling, sipping valerian root tea for her nerves.
So this beggar girlshes my granddaughter, but how could that be?
She put the sleepy baby on the sofa and beckoned her guest to the table.
Emily! she called hesitantly.
How do you know my name? the girl asked, surprised.
Margaret waved a hand vaguely. Maybe I heard you say it. Come, eat.
Her heart drummed as a cold sweat broke on her brow. There was no doubtthis was her granddaughter. The very name the adoptive parents had chosen for the baby she lost with Lily.
Emily smiled her gratitude and dug into the strange but hearty plate of food before her.
Margaret scrutinised her, searching for that familiar spark in her features.
So, Emily, what happened to you? she asked gently.
With barely a pause, Emily began telling her storywords falling over each other, as if the weight in her heart was too much to bear.
She lived with both her parents until she was five, even had a pony. She stopped and smiled at the memory.
But then her mum and dad argued, then split up. Emily was left with her mother, until the day she was led to a childrens home and signed away.
Emily never really understood why. Her happy story turned into something out of a Dickens novel, her security snatched away in an instant. Twelve years passed in care, then she was sent out into the world.
Her council flat was barely habitable, a half-condemned house filled with squatters. Thats where she met Vince, a plumber.
But when he learned she was pregnant, he disappeared. The squat was cleared, and she was allowed to stay until her baby arrived.
By then, someone else had claimed her flat.
Emily didnt know how to fight for her rights, especially not with a little one in tow.
She drifted through stations, sought change by the Undergrounduntil she caught the eye of Slick Nick, who lorded over homeless folk.
A pretty beggar with a babys sure to rake in plenty, hed said, offering a bed in return for her days coins.
So Emily and her boy slept in the damp basement with other beggarssome disabled, most pretending to be. The actors glued on fake injuries, painted bruises, wore fake baby bumpsproper performers could make good money. Emily never could manage it.
Each morning, they were dropped at their spots; in the evening, their takings were collected. Lately, the pressure had mountednot enough money, too much crying from Emilys boy.
Today they’d simply not come to pick her up, abandoned her to the cold. She stared into her empty bowl.
Thank you, she whispered. I dont know what wed have done tonight otherwise.
She yawned, eyes closing. Well leave earlywe wont trouble you, I promise. I just need to sleep.
Emily slumped against the chair and, before long, was sound asleep.
Margaret gently led her to bed and tucked the baby in beside her.
Sitting alone at the New Year table, Margaret watched the Prime Ministers speech and smiled. She wouldnt let her granddaughter or that boy goneither now nor ever. Theyd stay with her. It was right. One day shed tell them everything. Shed help Emily find her feet, raise her little lad. For now, shed let them recover in peace. Theyd been through enough.
As the chimes of Big Ben rang out, Margaret poured herself a small glass of sherry and toasted her new year.
In the window, the street was bathed with the golden glow of fairy lights, flakes of snow drifting down. Margaret whispered, Thank you, Lord, for this unexpected happiness. Goodbye, lonelinessI have a family again.
Life never takes the route we plan, but grace can turn even the coldest winter into the promise of spring. Sometimes, when we open our hearts, we find were not rescuing others at alltheyre rescuing us, too.
