My son is not ready to be a father…
Shameless! Ungrateful Pig! Mum screamed at me, Alice, as loudly as she could. The sight of my rounded belly didnt calm her furyif anything, it fanned the flames. Get out of my house, and dont you dare come back! I never want to see you again!
Mum really did throw me out. Shed kicked me out before for different reasons. But when she found out I was pregnant, she made it quite clear I wasn’t welcome, not unless everything was sorted out.
With tears streaming down my face, my small suitcase in hand, I trudged over to Toms placemy boyfriend, who looked more lost than ever. Turned out, Tom hadnt even told his parents about the baby. The first thing his mother asked when she saw me was if it was too late to do something about it. But it was well past that, my stomach was already protruding. I was in such a state of shock, I would have done anything for a bit of help. Only a month before, I was dead set against Mums suggestions. Now, I was suffocating from despair, my mind plagued by uncertainty about the future.
My sons not ready to be a father, Toms mum told me firmly. Hes much too young, and youll ruin his whole life. Of course, well help as much as we can, but right now Ive asked a friend to get you a place at a shelter for young mumsno one else really wants you, do they?
The shelter gave me a tiny room. For the first time in ages I could breathe, rest, and collect myself. No one was nagging me; instead, I was offered support, both practical and emotional, as the staff helped me prepare for the birth. When the biggest moment came, and they placed a little bundlea tiny girlinto my arms, panic set in. I was terrified. But once Id caught my breath, I looked at her, trying to grasp what kind of wondrous, mysterious creature Id brought into the world. My daughter.
Christmas crept closer, but instead of joyful news, I was told I had to find somewhere else. There was a queue for my room.
Sitting on my bed clutching tiny Emmawhod just turned a monthI had no idea what the two of us were supposed to do. Where would we live? Where would I find money? With whom could I plead for shelter? My mothers heart never softened; she refused even to look at her granddaughter. She wrote us both out of her life.
What a gloomy Christmas Eve were having, darling, I whispered to my little girl. Id always loved this holiday. As a child, I used to go carolling door to door with the neighbourhood kids, singing my heart out, earning a tidy sum in pound coins, dashing round half the town before night was out. I suddenly ached to feel that againto walk from house to house, singing carols, soaking in the festive air. Why not? I thought. Emmas quiet as a mouse. Ill wrap her up warmly and carry her with me. Well sing, and if people shut the doorwell, thats their choice.
On Boxing Day, I picked a quiet street of semi-detached houses for my carolling. As I had feared, people werent keen on opening up to a caroller like mea young mum with a baby in towwhen they half expected a choir of jolly men. But every so often, someone did let us in, and my singing seemed to touch them; they tipped generouslynot only coins, but mince pies and a bit of chocolate, touched by the sight of my little girl. People could tell there was more to our story than Id ever say.
It wasnt easy, trudging from house to house. Ill just try that big house, and then Ill be done. Looks like theyve got moneymaybe Ill get a decent gift, I thought, cheered a bit by the notes and coins in my pocket and the warm feeling of, if not hope, at least a little relief.
May I sing a carol for you? I asked, when the man at the house invited us in. But his reaction unsettled me. Letting us enter, he looked at me, then Emma, and grew pale. He swayed, then sat down hard on the settee.
Margaret? he asked, voice trembling.
Sorry? I replied, confused. No, my names Alice. You must be mistaking me for someone else.
Alice You look just like my wife, he murmured. And that childis it a girl?
Yes, I answered simply.
I had a daughter just like that once But theyre both gone. Car crash. Only a few nights ago I dreamed theyd come home and now youre here. Can it really be?
I I dont know what to say.
Please, do come in. Stay for a cup of tea. Tell me your story, please
At first, I was afraid; he was a stranger, and his emotions seemed overwhelming. But truly, I had nowhere else to go. So I entered the spacious lounge of his lonely house. On the wall, I saw a photo: his late wife and a childshe truly did look a bit like me.
Suddenly, my words spilled outI started with my childhood and told him everything, detail by detail, since he was the first person who really seemed to care. He listened, silent, hanging on every word, glancing now and then at Emma sleeping in my arms, her lips curled into little smiles. I sensed she must feel, on some deep level, that wed arrived at a home that might just become our own.
