I remember the days when Emily worked at a modest health resort in the Cotswolds, taking the earlymorning train from her village. The commute was tiring, but the pay was decent and the hours fit around her parttime childcare. In summer the chill was bearable, but in winter the walk to the station felt dreadful darkness, few passersby, and those grim car parks still halffilled with old rusted hulks. One night, instead of being dropped off near the lot, she was left right at the platform. A large black Land Rover rolled up, a window lowered, and a man with a thick beard asked:
Fancy a ride, love?
Emily had never considered herself a beauty, and in a different setting such a line might have been flattering. Yet her old boots were numb, her nose ran, and she still had seven minutes to the train. More than anything she wanted to be inside a warm, stoked hearth. She pictured the halfhour ride on the train, the dash to the nursery, a quick shop trip, then home to light the fire, cook dinner endless chores left no room for chatter. So she answered:
Go on then, what a sight I am to you!
She trudged along the snowcrusted path. The Rover passed, halted again, and a different, taller, sturdier man without a beard leapt out, helped her into the back seat with a deft motion.
The bearded fellow, smiling with satisfaction, called out:
Youve caught my eye. Come have dinner with me.
Thats when Emily realised the driver was heavily drunk and unaccustomed to a no. Tears sprang to her eyes.
Please let me go! My daughters waiting! Im thirtytwo, plainlooking, and I cant keep a conversation. You dont care about my coat a neighbour gave me the fur coat out of kindness. Underneath Im in an old sweater and trousers. What dinner could you offer?
The burly man whod ushered her into the car leaned toward the bearded one and whispered something. The bearded man shook his head and said:
Dont cry. Ill take you back to the resort, didnt you see your sweater? You look just like my mother used to, and she always dreamed of being invited to a restaurant. Come on, dont be stubborn. How about I buy you a dress?
I just want to go home, Emily sniffed. I need to fetch my daughter.
How old is she?
Four.
And wheres the father?
He left.
Just like mine. Should I look for another woman?
No, his mother kept saying the child isnt real. We did IVF. He agreed at first, then she claimed such babies have no souls. Hes a good man but very impressionable Ive taken to defending my exhusband.
Not real, then? the bearded man repeated. All right, lets go. Tell me where your nursery is, or whatever its called. Vance, drive.
Emily sank into the seat, frantic thoughts whirring about her next move. It was clear the bearded man wouldnt let go easily. Her only hope lay with the burly driver, who seemed to regard her with a hint of sympathy.
When the whole party the caretaker, a few parents bundling their children in cosy snuggies arrived, they all fell silent and stared at Emily. In such a crowd shed never been seen before. Little Mabel, unafraid of strangers, asked outright whether the bearded man was Father Christmas and whether anyone had seen her own father. Shed been pestering everyone about her dad, a habit Emily had grown used to and no longer found embarrassing. When they later got into the car, Mabel curiously inspected the steering wheel and announced she could drive too.
The bearded man chuckled:
Funny little thing. You say youre not real. Want some icecream?
I do! Mabel exclaimed, delighted.
They took her to a nearby icecream parlour, then to a supermarket where the bearded man piled a basket with useless fare salted fish, exotic fruit, mouldy cheeses. Emily would have preferred chicken and pasta, but you dont argue with a gift.
They dropped her at her cottage, and the bearded man, now a little sober, asked for tea. While Emily tended the fire, he stared wideeyed and remarked:
I always thought Id had a hard childhood Do you really have an outside toilet?
Indeed, Emily replied with a wry smile.
She no longer feared him; she realised he was harmless, merely foolish. His assistant was a decent fellow, sneaking in milk, bread, proper cheese, and childrens curd into the basket perhaps he had his own kids after all.
After finally shooing away the unwanted guests, Emily found herself trembling. She burst into tears, frightening Mabel, yet she could not stop. The tears flowed as they had the first night her husband packed his bags and returned to his mother, leaving her heavily pregnant in a newly bought house. Hed said, even if the child was not real, the home should stay theirs.
The next morning, the same black Land Rover waited outside the resort. The bearded man was gone; only his driver, Vance, remained.
Hop in, he said. Ill take you into town.
Why? Emily asked. Do you think I look like your mother?
Enough of that, Vance snapped, offended. Im heading that way anyway, thought I might as well give you a lift.
Fine, she sighed. Wheres your boss?
Hes napping. Dont be angry, hes all right. Yesterday was his mothers birthday if she were still alive, that is. He doesnt drink.
Emily nodded. It mattered little. She climbed in.
The ride began in silence; Vance was not the chatty sort. Eventually he asked:
So the child really came from a testtube?
Yes.
Funny what people dream up, eh?
Do you have children?
Nope. Ive got three younger siblings, theyve driven me mad. One alone would be better.
Exactly, Emily agreed.
Mabel, delighted by the car, asked whether theyd return to the icecream shop.
No, Emily said, she has no money for treats.
Come on, well go, Vance offered.
Its beyond my means, Emily replied bluntly.
Ill treat you, he waved.
On the way back, Mabel fell asleep. While Emily fretted about how to lift her, Vance cradled the little girl and carried her toward the house.
Such a light little thing, he mused, and hardly worth the trouble.
Emily didnt see Vance again for several days, until she stumbled upon the same Rover, this time with a bearded driver.
Victor Lyle, he introduced himself, Im sorry for that night; I wasnt myself. Id like to invite you to dinner at a restaurant not today, whenever it suits you.
At first Emily wanted to refuse, but then thought, why not? She could find a dress somewhere. Only one problem remained: who would watch Mabel?
Vance stepped forward.
I can look after her.
Leaving a child with a stranger felt uneasy, yet Vances calm gave her some reassurance. She suggested taking Mabel to the playroom, which made the arrangement easier for everyone.
The dinner turned out to be amusing. Victor was chatty and a touch selfabsorbed, yet possessed a certain charm. Emily hadnt felt like a woman in ages. When he proposed a visit to an exhibition the following week, she accepted.
Mabel adored both the playroom and Vance. When he returned with a sack of groceries, Emily thought it was too much, but Vance said:
This is from Victor Lyle.
The deliveries kept coming every few days. Emily wasnt sure whether to thank Victor or decline, for she earned enough to buy a crust of bread and a knob of butter. Still, Victor seemed to court her, escorting her to restaurants and occasional cultural events not often, as his work kept him busy, but it felt like a date. Vance, by default, became her de facto babysitter, and everyone seemed content.
One afternoon Vance blurted out:
Victor Lyle says hes fallen for you. Hes even thinking about marriage. Only the child scares him its not his.
Emily was taken aback. Fell in love? He hadnt even taken her hand. And a child that wasnt his
It hurts to think of marriage, she snapped.
What, youll say no? Vance perked up. Hes wealthy, youll be as safe as behind a stone wall.
I dont need wealth
What do I need?
Emily shrugged, recalling her exhusband no, she thought, that sort of man is definitely not for her.
I dont know, she admitted honestly.
Vance suddenly stepped forward, pulled her close and kissed her. Emily recoiled, startled. Vance, flushed, muttered:
Sorry, I dont know sorry
and fled. Emily didnt know whether shed liked that suddenness or not. How could she now speak to him?
The next day Mabel fell ill with a fever, a dreadful heat. Emily had to call in sick at the resort, something the management frowned upon. Victor was upset; they had tickets to a theatre show.
Maybe Vance could sit with her? Emily suggested.
She might catch something, Vance replied hesitantly.
Never mind him, were going to the play! Victor insisted.
Why Emily agreed is a blur. It was uncomfortable to waste costly tickets, but she did want to see the performance, and by evening Mabel felt better. Vance arrived, looking uneasy. Emily had bought a new dress, feeling a blush of shame. In the theatre she could find no seat for herself, her thoughts constantly drifting to her daughter. When Victor mentioned a skiresort trip, Emily stopped him:
Listen, Im grateful you bring groceries and theatre tickets, but thats enough. I wont go to a resort on your dime.
What groceries? Victor asked.
The ones Vance brings.
I see, Victor said, realizing Vance was the kind soul. My mother loved skiing; perhaps shed have liked someone to invite her.
At that moment a clarity struck Emily. She took Victors hands and said:
Your mother would be proud of you, Im sure. But you need to find someone you truly love, and a circle that fits you. No matter how you dress me, Ill remain myself, just as your mother would have wanted. I think I love someone else now.
Victor, hurt, let a tear fall and complained he couldnt understand women. He drove her home, then announced hed go his own way, leaving Vance to do as he wished.
Mabel fell asleep clutching a plush bear that Vance had given her. Vance dozed in his seat. Emily tiptoed over, bent, and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. He woke, bewildered, as Mabel whispered:
You ran off too quickly yesterday. I didnt expect it. It scared me, you know?
She kissed him again. This time, no one was afraid.
