So, picture this: James settled in at his desk with his laptop and a hot mug of tea, planning to polish off a few bits of work hed been putting off. Out of nowhere, his phone rangsome unknown number flashing on the screen.
Hello, James speaking.
Good morning, Mr. Laurence? Im calling from the Queen Victoria Maternity Hospital. Are you acquainted with a Miss Emily Harper? asked an older gentleman, judging by the sound of his voice.
Sorry, I dont know anyone called Emily Harper. Whats this about? James replied, rather puzzled.
Well Emily passed away yesterday during childbirth. We spoke to her mother. She informed us that youre the babys father, the man went on, his voice pausing for an answer.
What baby? What father? Im not following! James could feel himself growing uneasy.
Emily delivered a little girl yesterday. And you youre listed as the father. Thats if you are James Laurence, right? You need to come in tomorrow to the hospital. Well need to discuss what happens next The man spoke slowly and clearly.
Discuss what? None of this made sense to James.
Just come by Queen Victoria Maternity on Covent Garden tomorrow. Ask for Dr. Nicholas Peterson. Thats me. We can talk then.
The line went dead. James just sat there, phone in hand, listening to the silence. Eventually, he put the phone down and tried to wrap his head around what he’d just heard.
Emily who the hell is Emily? he muttered, wandering about the flat in confusion. No clue Right, lets think. How long are women pregnant for? Nine months, isnt it? Right, so nine months ago was its May now, so September What happened in September?
He glanced at his tea, wrinkling his nose. Hed have preferred something stronger, but
In September I was in Brighton. Two weeks. Of course! Emily! Thats it!
He suddenly remembered herblonde, blue eyes And, honestly, how many Emilys had there even been? Was he supposed to keep a log? James had never been married, not at forty, and had never fancied the idea. Kids, marriagenever on his list. He liked his life exactly how it was, and nothing was going to change that. Especially not for some girl he knew for a fortnight last autumn.
But shes gone something knocked inside his head, a sharp reminder.
How could she have died? he said out loud, gazing at the ceiling as if an answer would appear. How old was she, anyway? Twenty, if that?
He felt the old itch for a cigarette, but, nohed given that up. Somewhere deep inside, a strange feeling stirred. Was it pity? Dismay? Regret?
The baby he said aloud, as if to someone invisible. Well, surely Emilys mum will take her in. Shes her grandmother. Anyway, whos to say the baby is even mine?
James had already made up his mind. Hed go see the doctor, sign the forms, and that would be that. Life as usual.
The trouble was, even after deciding, sleep refused to come easily. His mind was a jumble, and his chest felt tight, restless
He just couldnt imagine that cold body being Emily. James tried to swallow the knot in his throat, but it grew, spreading through his chest and up to his eyes. His vision stung. He remembered. Her laugh. The way shed run barefoot along the Brighton beach. The look she gave him, bright and lovestruck. That dizzy, giddy girl hed forgotten as soon as he got home. She was gonelying in the morgue right now. And all he could do was stand there, staring, feeling useless.
James dashed out into the hall, gesturing to Dr. Peterson that he needed a moment
He managed to bum a cigarette off someone outside, inhaling deeply on the NHS maternity steps before tossing it aside, then strode purposefully back to the chief doctors office.
Do you want to meet your daughter? Dr. Peterson asked gently.
No. I want to speak to Emilys mother first. Where is she? James pressed.
Shes waiting down the corridor. You just walked right past her.
Ill be right back, James said, hurriedly heading out.
He spotted her easilythe slight woman with a black scarf sitting along the corridor. In two strides, he was by her side.
Hello James managed to say.
Emilys mum looked up, and James was floored by the grief in her eyes.
She looks just like Emily, he thought suddenly, spitting image.
My names Margaret. Margaret Harper, she said softly. Im Emilys mum.
Im James. Laurence yes, he replied, awkwardly.
I know. Emily told me about you. Cant say shell tell me anything else now, will she Margarets voice broke into sobs.
James was at a loss. He just stood there, feeling completely out of his depth.
Margaret wiped her tears. Please, dont turn your back on your daughter. I cant bear for my granddaughter to end up in care. Do you understand?
In care? But youre her gran. Surely shell live with you? James tried to comfort her, but in his head he wondered, Shes hardly any older than me
I cant. Ive got my own health issues heart problems but if youll just officially recognise her, Ill raise her myself you wont hear a peep from us, I promise! Margaret pleaded, reaching out.
Lets go, James said, and led her back to see the chief doctor.
Dr. Peterson looked up as they entered.
What do we do to register paternity? James asked, a quiver in his voice.
DNA test, Dr. Peterson replied, giving him a knowing look. Have you decided on a name?
A name? James tensed again.
For your daughter? Any thoughts? the doctor smiled.
Do you want to meet her? he offered.
James sighed, glanced at Margaret, and said quietly, No not just yet.
The paperwork went surprisingly quickly, and the DNA test confirmed the obviousit was his child. James felt completely lost, not at all equipped to deal with a baby entering his world. But letting Margaret and the girl just disappear from his life? That didnt feel right either. He hadnt even managed to say the word daughter out loudjust baby.
Ill help as best I can. Send over money. Buy a pram and whatever else they need, he decided before they left the hospital.
Then came the dayJames saw the nurse carrying in the most blindingly pink, frilly bundle youve ever seen, and he suddenly had a dry mouth.
Margaret took the bundle, folded back a lacey corner and asked, Do you want to see the little one?
James didnt have time to reply. Dr. Peterson called Margaret into his office just then.
Margaret handed the bundle to James before she left the room.
James froze. He couldnt speak or move. The little bundle was warm and smelt sweetlike candyfloss. Suddenly, a little noise came: a sort of kittens mewl, and then the baby let out a loud cry. Startled, James looked downand saw his own face looking back up at him. She was the absolute image of him.
He felt his knees wobble, so he dropped onto the nearest chair and gave her a little rock. She hushed, then fixed him with a look, and, honestly, it almost felt like she smiled.
Margaret came back into the room a moment later.
Go on, Ill take her, she said, arms outstretched.
Ive got her, James blurted out. She just smiled at me! Right then, the biggest, daftest grin spread across his face.
Lets go home, Margaret, he said softly. Then, more firmly, Were all going home together.Margarets eyes glistenedhalf in relief, half in disbelief.
I never thought youd say that, she whispered, voice trembling.
James cleared his throat, as if unused to it working properly. Neither did I, truth be told.
He stood andawkwardly, but with surprising certaintysettled the little girl in the crook of his arm. Her fingers curled around his knuckle, impossibly small, impossibly strong. Margaret linked her arm through his as they headed down the corridor together.
The whole place smelled of disinfectant and distant flowers, but, outside, the world felt fresh and enormous. A gust of warm May air caught them as they stepped through the doorsJames, uncertain but steady; Margaret, grateful by his side; and between them, the newest bit of hope any of them had ever held.
For the first time in months, James found himself wanting to remember every momentthe first squint of sunlight in his daughters eyes, the weight of her in his arms, the way Margaret squeezed his hand when he nearly tripped over the steps. He grinned, sheepish, then laughed aloud at himself.
It struck him, walking into the bright street, that his life hadnt ended after all. It had cracked right open, and something extraordinarysomething fragile and luminoushad slipped in. Maybe hed never planned for this, never been ready; but now, with every step he took, he realized he wanted nothing more than to learn how.
The world outside seemed softer than he remembered. The citys noise faded behind them as they left the hospital, and as James looked down at his daughterhis daughterhe whispered, almost to himself, Welcome home, Emily.
And somehow, he knew theyd be okay.
