Thats Gregorys baby…
This story unfolded just recently, in a well-kept flat on the fourth floor of a nine-storey block in the heart of Manchester. Living there was a young-at-heart, working pensioner, a solitary woman named Barbara.
Her life was quietly steadypension, casual job, occasional lunches with friends, journeys to see the grandchildren, and visits to support her elderly mother who lived alone. Nothing outlandish or dramatic ever seemed to breach her gentle routine.
So that day began as any other. In the morning, Barbara phoned her mum, checking as always on her health.
It was a day offthe kind thats both ordinary and a bit wearisome. She worked shifts at a local private surgery, minding the front desk three days on, three off, answering calls and scribbling appointments. But today? Just the familiar: cook something, then stroll to her mothers flata daily custom, a task so ingrained shed sigh and roll her eyes at the thought.
The walk was only across two courtyards. Not a bother. Nor was cookingespecially since Mum still had yesterdays stew and a batch of scones left. But climbing those flights to the fifth floor (no lift, of course)how it made Barbara puff!
Then there were those sigh-inducing laments from her mother: tales of symptoms and complaints, each layered with pain and reimagined diagnoses, flavoured with the old wives wisdom of neighbours and snippets from telly doctors. Decisions were never requiredonly a sympathetic ear.
Barbaras own advice was brushed aside, dismissed as if she hadnt spent forty years as an operating theatre nurse. An irony she felt keenly, even if it made her smile.
And she needed to pop to the shop. Bread for Mum, a pat of butter. Chores lined up as evergrainy brown bread, she reminded herself, as she traced her lips with lipstick by the hallway mirror. For sixty, she looked sprightly: only tiny crows feet at the eyes, cropped silver hair, elegant earrings, a soft, friendly facecheeks only a trifle less full than in youth.
Suddenly, the bell ranga surprise, as their building was secured by intercom. Who would it be? Neighbour Mrs. Ford, perhaps, whom Barbara sometimes invited for tea.
She glanced towards the door, lipstick still in hand, and opened it wide.
Standing before her was a young, fair-haired girl in a striped top, long cardigan, jeans, rucksack on her back. Only later would Barbara recall every detail; for now, she saw only the girls anxious face and the bundle in her armsa baby wrapped in a brown fleece.
Narrowed eyes, tensed jaw, a rushed breaththen, abruptly, the bundle was thrust into Barbaras hands and a curt, This is for you! spat out.
Reflex kicked inlipstick still gripped, she felt the unexpected weight, glanced down, and gasped. It was a baby.
By the time she looked up, the girl was already bounding down the stairs.
Its Gregorys child, I need to get to class…the hurried words echoed behind her.
The front door banged below.
That was it.
Barbara lingered on the landing, dazed, half-expecting the girl to return any moment. At last, she stepped inside to the waiting bin bag and thought, almost abstractly, Dont forget the rubbish when you go to Mums.
There was another baga strangerswhich she hadnt noticed the girl deposit.
Heavens above! It really was a living baby. What had the girl said? Gregorys child? Did she really say Gregory?
Barbara, still cradling the baby, slumped onto her sofa. Yes, she was certain the name had been Gregory.
But what Gregory? Barbara had one son, Williama family man living in Brighton with his wife and two children. Her late husband, David, had passed on five years earlier.
The questions chased each other. On the sofa, the child stirred. Barbara gently unwrapped the fleeceinside, a tiny onesie, a newborn girl, not more than a few weeks old, with a frog-shaped dummy in her mouth.
There, there, little love, Barbara cooed, stroking the babys cheek, as she snuggled and drifted back to sleep.
Perhaps there were answers in that bagshe opened it, finding two bottles, a tin of formula, nappies, and baby clothes.
Still, a strange anticipation kept her on edge: surely the girl would be back soon, beg forgiveness, reclaim the child, and the day would return to its predictable rhythmbins, shops, Mum. She even finished her makeup and peered anxiously from the window.
Why wasnt the girl returning? What sort of business was this?
When the infant woke and whimpered, Barbara was awkwardshe had no right to undress, feed, or care for someone elses child. Still she found herself soothing, changing, preparing a bottle, as her long-dormant instincts took over.
The phone rangMum, of course. Where are you? At the shop yet? And then, a detailed order for pears not like the last ones, but the lovely, soft ones with red-streaked sides. Barbara barely listened, distracted by the baby wriggling in her arms.
After hanging up, she turned to the formulasomething must be done! But what? Her mind tumbled through possibilities.
William. It was nearly Junelast August had he been away on business? Had he given a false name, Gregory? Could he possibly…?
No, surely not. Yet the baby did resemble her granddaughter Sarah, if you squinted. If so, it would be a scandal. His wife would never forgive him.
The baby drank ravenously, smacking her lips; seeing her content made Barbaras heart melt.
When the child dozed again, Barbara phoned William, but his number was out of service.
Best delay everything, she decided. No need to involve social services just yetperhaps the girl would return. She seemed no troublemaker, more an overburdened student.
Certainly, she could not confess any of this to Mumotherwise shed be assaulted by dire warnings and chilling conjectures for days.
Barbara rang her grandson Matthew, who explained that Dad was installing gas lines in a remote region with no signal. Hed be home in two days time.
Oh, you might have told me! Barbara grumbled, but reasoned with herselfher sons work kept him busy.
She called her daughter-in-law, Helen, asking her to have William ring her that evening.
Is anything the matter? Helen pressed.
No, just tell him Ill be waiting for his call, please…
Barbara promptly fabricated a story about twisting her ankle and not coming round todaythere was enough stew and bread for Mum anyhow. Her mother fretted and called back, repeatedly, over the hours.
Afterwards, Barbara changed out of her smart white trousers into a house dress, settled beside the baby, and let her thoughts meander.
Had she perhaps lost her senses taking in this infant? Or was it fortunes joke?
Why not just call the police? Well, she was afraid for William, even if he was no Gregory. What if it was his child, after all? What if hed misled the girl? Also, she really did not fancy explaining this all to the authorities. And, third, she just couldnt shake the memory of the girl’s haunted looka blend of despair and stubborn hope.
She needed to talk to someone. Who else but her old friend?
Vicky, brace yourself. Someone just left a baby with me…
Vicky was unfazed, channelling her inner Sherlock Holmes, and promised to come after work.
Dont panic, Barb! Well sort this. Whatever you dodont call the police just yet.
Wait for Gregory!? But what Gregory? Barbara fretted.
Any Gregorys in your building? Vicky asked.
Barbara shruggedthere were over fifty flats.
Maybe she mixed up the flats, Vicky judged.
The entire day spun by in a haze of bottles and nappies. She Googled baby carefeeding schedules, massages, bath time, lullabiesand found herself enacting them with affection.
Mum called to check if shed be over tomorrow, but Barbara felt cautiously confident the matter would resolve itself by then.
In the evening, Vicky joined her, searching the babys belongings before doing the rounds of the neighbours, spinning some tale of a lost letter for Gregory.
Finally, she returned, triumphant. I found a Gregory upstairs on the sixth floora perfect candidate! She mustve just gotten the wrong flat.
Barbara hesitated, but curiosity drove them up to the sixth. When an elderly lady answered and called for her grandson, a scruffy, bearded young man appeared.
Are you here about the iPad? he asked.
No, its about something else, Vicky explained breezily. Barbara heres found your child.
Gregory turned pale. A baby? Thats not mine.
But youre the only Gregory in the building! Vicky insisted.
Gregory staggered, bemused. Ive never had children. I wouldnt even know where to start. I barely leave this flatI build websites for a living! Who was this girl?
She didnt say her name, Barbara admitted regretfully.
Well, if you ever need help, I know how to get the word outmedia, social networks… offered Gregory.
No, thank you, Barbara declined. She still feared for William, and protocol demanded she call the authorities, not post announcements online.
Afterwards, Vicky shook her head admiringly. You believe him? I do. Hes not the love-’em-and-leave-’em type.
By late evening, William hadnt called. When Barbara finally reached Helen, the conversation was lost in the usual torrent of child-related chaos.
Barbara made herself promise: tomorrow, shed ring social services. Yet, as soon as she lay down, the image of the desperate girl haunted her thoughts. What would become of the baby if she called the authorities?
Barbara tossed and turned all night. The baby woke frequently, and she paced the room with her, feeding and soothing, until dawn finally granted both a little sleep.
A phone call from Mum woke her up. Will you come over? Dont forget the pears!
Ill be there, Barbara replied, glancing from the window to the sleeping baby.
She slung a makeshift sling out of a scarf, dressed the baby in her nearly new clothes, and set off for the shopdelighting in the new sensation of shopping not alone.
Of course: the fifth floor.
Mums eyes bulged when she saw the infant.
Whats that? she croaked.
Not what, who, Barbara replied, handing over groceries. Shes just Nan Fords granddaughter. Im watching her for an hour.
And your ankle?
Healed overnight.
Mother and daughter gazed adoringly at the baby; for once, there were no dreary monologues about symptoms or remedies.
Oh my, how she grips your finger! Whats her name?
Didnt ask. Only got her for an hour.
How could you take a baby without asking her name? Mum chided, shaking her head.
On her way home, Barbara caught herself pondering possible nameswhy, she didnt know, but she longed to guess what her mother might have named her.
When she arrived, a text pinged: Williams number was available! Cradling the baby, she called at once.
What, Mum? Im a married man! he spluttered after the story.
But she said the father was Gregory, and… just think…
Mum, you called me William! This is a mistake. Just call the police. Or Ill do it myself.
No, Ill handle it. Im just… shes hungry, we just got in from a walk. Ill feed her, then sort it…
Mum! The police! Im worried about you…
Im fine, love. Got a little carried away, thats all. Shes just so…so sweet.
Barbara changed yet another nappy and fed the baby. Should she hand the girl over to a hospital? Yet, in her professional wisdom, she knew the child would be better off nowhere but here.
Butshe didn’t have forever. Prolonged, it would become a criminal matter.
Sighing, she looked in on the baby. Despite her exhaustion, the days had been unexpectedly full and bright.
She closed her eyes. The two of themBarbara and the babydozed off, nestled together.
A frantic knocking jarred her awake.
Where is she? Where did you take her? Why didnt you tell me at once? demanded a dishevelled figure at the doorthe same anxious girl in shorts and T-shirt, wild-eyed, breathless, hair astray.
Tell you what? Barbara muttered, still groggy.
That youre not heryoure not Gregorys mum! the girl blurted, panic in her tone.
Perhaps I am, Barbara said, raising a brow, though you ran off so quickly…
Butyou must know where she is? Please, you must know! That wild, desperate hope still burned in the girls gaze.
Barbara let her in, led her to the bedroom. The girl saw the baby, gasped, and sunk to the floor, sobbing.
Barbara fetched water, tea, and a slab of chocolateold nurses habitsand soothed her until the tears abated.
Eventually, the girl spoke. Her name was Ellie and the baby was Daisy.
The tale was as unremarkable as it was sad: young, naive, a student from a country village, love promised and fled in the arms of city-boy Gregory from the college down the road, who evaporated after New Yearphone off, no address, vanished into the fog.
Pregnant, disowned by her father, shunned by her stepmother, clinging to dreams of becoming a nurse, scraping by in a shared dormitory with only a distant aunt for the occasional tenner.
Ellie had believed Gregorys assurancehis mother would help. Shed seen her on Facebook; how easily her mind had mixed up identical post-war estates, mistaking one block for another.
In despair after a sleepless night, terrified, rejected, burdened by internet photos of Gregory’s new life, she had run to the twenty-first flat, pushed her baby into strange arms, fled, and spent the evening cramming for exams, grief gnawing at her heart.
The next morning she’d whimpered a cryptic note online, only to learn from Gregory that his mother never received a babywrong block, wrong Gregory.
So here she was, wild-eyed and trembling.
Barbara consoled her: The greatest folly is to create a masterpiece and refuse to claim it. I looked at your little one and thought: what mother could give up such a wonder?
Ellie shook her headshe would keep Daisy now, even if they had to return to the dormitory or take her chances with a distant aunt.
Barbara made tea, reassured her, and suggestedgentlythat she could stay for the month at least.
Oh, I couldnt, I havent the money, Ellie mumbled.
Nonsense. Stay. Revise for your exams. Daisy can sleep while you study. Ill make sure theres foodlittle ones fine. You neednt rush off.
Ellie drowsed in an armchair, Daisy curled beside her.
Later, Barbara quietly phoned Vicky.
No, Vicky, not Williams, and not the neighbours. She came back. Shell stay. Im so glad I didnt ring the policeId have hated myself.
Ellie found her milk, passed her exams with flying colours. She became a frequent visitor to Barbaras mother, who preferred her medical opinions to Barbaras. Shes got the latest training. Smart girl! Mum would exclaim.
Within weeks, Ellie landed a jobBarbara had contacts at the ambulance service, and, delighted, Ellie often sought her advice.
And so, in the autumn, Ellie and Daisy moved upstairstwo floors upto nurse Gregorys grandmother (whod grown quite fond of Barbaras visitor) and to heal her own heartache, writing her future in a fresh, determined hand.
