Edward settled comfortably at his desk, laptop open in front of him, a steaming mug of tea in hand. There was still some work he needed to wrap up. Suddenly, his concentration was interrupted by the piercing ring of his mobile. The number wasnt one he recognised.
Hello, speaking.
Edward James? Im calling from the maternity ward. Are you acquainted with Charlotte Bennett? asked a male voice, distinctly older by the sound of it.
No, sorry, I dont know anyone called Charlotte Bennett. Whats this about? Edward asked, puzzled.
Im afraid Charlotte passed away yesterday during childbirth. We contacted her mother, and she told us youre the father of the child, the voice fell silent, apparently waiting for a response.
What child? What father? I dont understand any of this! Edwards anxiety was clearly mounting.
Charlotte gave birth to a girl yesterday. And, well, youre down as the father. Provided, of course, you are Edward Michael James. Youll need to come to the maternity ward tomorrow. There are important matters to be sorted, the man enunciated each word carefully.
What matters exactly? Edward was quite at a loss.
Please come to St. Georges tomorrow, ask for Dr. Nicholas Peterson thats me. Well discuss everything then.
Edward stood for a moment, gripping his phone, listening to the dial tone after the call ended. He placed the phone on the table, trying to process what hed just heard.
Charlotte… Who on earth is Charlotte? he muttered, pacing his living room. Think. How long are women pregnant for? Nine months? Its May now… so nine months ago would have been… September. What was I doing in September?
He glanced at the mug of tea, still warm in his hands, grimaced and set it back on the table. He craved something stronger at that moment, but…
In September, I was in Brighton, the memory suddenly sharpening, as if a forgotten photo had come into focus. A fortnight there… Thats it! Charlotte!
He remembered her only vaguely now. Blonde, blue eyes, if he recalled correctly… How many Charlottes had he known? Was he expected to remember each one? Hed never settled down, not even once, and at forty, marriage was nowhere on his list. Children? Never. He had his own routine and had no intention of disrupting it for anyone, let alone a Charlotte…
But shes dead now, he suddenly felt a heaviness in his chest, a relentless drumbeat of guilt.
How could she have died? he whispered, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if the answer hid somewhere up there. She could barely have been twenty…
A sudden urge to smoke flared up, though hed given it up long ago. An unfamiliar feeling unfurled within was it pity, confusion, regret perhaps?
The baby… he said aloud, as if to an invisible presence. Why cant Charlottes mother just take the child? Shes the grandmother, after all. And whos to say its even mine?
Edward had decided what hed do. Hed go tomorrow, see the consultant, sign away his rights and get on with his life as before. Despite his decision, he couldnt get to sleep that night. His thoughts raced, and something knotted in his chest that wouldnt let him be.
Lying in bed, it struck him that cold, lifeless body couldnt possibly be Charlotte. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, failing as it grew, sending branches of pain throughout his being. His eyes prickled with the threat of tears as he remembered her her laughter, the way shed chased waves along the beach, the warmth in her gaze. She was a lovely, silly girl hed already half-forgotten once he left the coast. Now she lay somewhere in the hospital mortuary. That was her he was picturing…
Edward bolted down the hallway. He gestured to Dr. Peterson, begging him for a moments pause.
Out on the steps of the hospital, he begged a cigarette from a passerby, inhaling desperately, tossing the fag away with shaky hands before striding to the consultant’s office.
Would you like to see your daughter? Dr. Peterson inquired.
No. Id like a word with Charlottes mother first. Where is she? Edward looked at the doctor, privately steeling himself.
Shes waiting in the corridor. You passed her just now.
Right. Ill be back, Edward answered, quickly stepping into the hallway.
He spotted the woman straight away: slight, veiled in black. She sat further along the corridor, hands tight together.
Hello, Edward managed at last.
She looked up at him. For a moment, it felt like he might drown in her grief.
She looks just like Charlotte, he found himself thinking. Practically her mirror image.
My names Vera. Vera Louise, she introduced herself quietly, Im Charlottes mum.
Edward, he said, then added by reflex, Middle names Michael.
I know. Charlotte told me all about you. Not that shell ever tell me anything again, Vera managed before bursting into tears.
Edward was lost for words, awkward and uncertain, standing beside her unsure of what to do, what to think.
After wiping her tears, Vera spoke, voice trembling:
Please dont turn your back on your daughter. I cant let my granddaughter end up in a childrens home. Please, try to understand.
But that wont happen. Youre her grandmother, she belongs with you, Edward tried to soothe her, while inwardly wondering, How can she be a granny? Shes no older than me…
They wont let me take her. Im unwell, have a heart condition… Just acknowledge the child as your own. Ill look after her, we wont trouble you, I promise, Vera pleaded, stretching out her hands.
Come on, said Edward, leading her towards Dr. Petersons office.
Dr. Peterson glanced up from his paperwork.
What do I need to do to formally acknowledge her as my child? Edward asked, voice tight with nerves.
Youll need a DNA test, Dr. Peterson replied, watching Edward for a reaction. Any name in mind?
Name who? Edward stammered.
Your daughter, of course. Have you chosen a name for her? the doctor smiled.
Would you like to go meet your baby girl? the doctor offered.
Edward sighed, exchanging a glance with Vera.
No, not now, he said quietly.
The formalities were surprisingly straightforward. The DNA results proved the child was his. Edward didnt know how to react or what his next move should be. He felt utterly unprepared for a child to enter his life, but he couldnt just turn his back and pretend the whole thing hadnt happened either. Still, he hadnt yet managed to say the word daughter it was just the child in his mind.
Ill help them as much as I can. Ill pay whats needed, buy her a pram, the things she needs, he decided, making plans just before the baby was to be discharged from the hospital.
But when Edward saw the nurse coming down the corridor, a pink bundle trimmed with ribbons and lace in her arms, his mouth went dry.
Vera took the bundle, turned back a bit of the lace and asked, Would you like to see her?
Edward didnt have time to answer, as the office door swung open abruptly, Dr. Peterson beckoning Vera in for a moment.
She passed the baby into Edwards arms and hurried into the office.
Edward froze no sound, no movement, just the warm weight of the bundle in his arms and the faint sweet scent of the newborn. Suddenly, a tiny wail rose from the bundle, a raw little sound not unlike a kitten, building quickly into full-blown crying. Startled, Edward gazed down and met a pair of eyes unmistakably his own. The resemblance was uncanny.
Feeling the ground giving way beneath him, Edward slumped into a nearby chair, gently rocking the baby until she quieted, then, for a moment, looked him right in the eye and, or so it seemed, even smiled at him.
Vera returned minutes later.
Give her here, let me take her, Vera reached out.
No let me, Edward blurted, beaming at the tiny face. She just smiled at me! At last, a genuine, elated grin split his face. Lets go home, Vera, he said softly, determination in his tone. Were going home together.Vera steadied herself beside him, relief and wonder mingling on her tear-streaked face. Edward, still half-disbelieving, cradled the child a little closer, feeling her warmth seep into the hollow places he hadnt known were empty.
They stepped from the hospital into the pale sunlight. A breeze carried the softest hint of salt from the sea. Vera took Edwards arm, and for once, he didnt pull away. The baby blinked up at the sky, her tiny fist wrapped instinctively around Edwards finger.
For a moment, Edward simply stood there, looking from the childs face to Veras, an unfamiliar certainty settling inside him. He realized, with a jolt, that his old lifeits careful routines and solitary comfortshad ended in a single heartbeat. And yet, as he walked forward, each uncertain step felt lighter than the last.
They caught a passing taxi. Vera gave the driver her address, but Edward was the one who spoke the words aloud, as if claiming a new language. The city passed by outside, unfamiliar and full of promise. By the time they reached the little garden gate, the baby had drifted to sleep, her face soft, peaceful, and impossibly trusting.
Vera unlocked the door, her hand trembling. Inside, sunlight fell across Charlottes old photo on the mantelpiece. Edward gazed at it for a long moment, then turned back to the child in his arms, the impossibility of what hed gained settling gently in his chest.
So, whispered Vera, brushing the babys cheek, will you name her now?
Edward cleared his throat. Hope, he said, conviction blooming in his voice. Her name is Hope.
As dusk gathered at the window, Edward sat beside Vera, the baby curled safe upon his chest, and felt the fragile beginning of something vastan unfamiliar but welcome sense that he truly, finally, belonged.
