How could you let him take you, you silly girl? Who would want you now, tied down with a child? And how will you raise it? Dont expect any help from me! I raised you, and now you think Ill carry your burden as well? Get out of my house, pack your things, and I never want to see you again!
Emily stood silently, eyes fixed on the worn carpet. Her last flicker of hope that Aunt Judith might let her stay until she found a job evaporated.
If only Mum were still alive
She never knew her father; her mother died fifteen years ago, struck by a drunk driver as she crossed the street. The authorities had been ready to send Emily to a childrens home when, suddenly, a distant cousin of her mothers stepped forward to take her inJudith, who had the proper papers, a house, and a steady wage.
They lived on the outskirts of a small town in Kent, where summers cooked the earth and winters left it soaked. Emily was never hungry, wore passable clothes, and learned early to workthere was always something to be done in a house with a garden and a few animals. Perhaps shed missed out on a mothers affection, but who really cared?
Shed studied hard, earned a place at university for teaching. Those years had flown by, diploma in hand, but now her heart weighed heavily as she returned to her hometown.
Go! Dont let me see your face again!
But Aunt Judith, at least just
I said go!
Emily grabbed her battered suitcase and stepped out into the glaring afternoon heat. How had she come to this? Humiliated, unwanted, barely showing her pregnancyshed admitted it, unable to lie.
She needed shelter. Wandering head down, lost in thought, she was stopped by an unfamiliar voice:
Would you like some water, love?
A robust woman, perhaps in her fifties, regarded her shrewdly.
Come inside, if you bring no trouble.
She handed Emily a jug of crisp, cool water. Emily perched on the garden bench and drank greedily.
Mind if I sit awhile? Its sweltering
Of course, dear. Whats your story, with all your luggage?
Ive just finished my degree, looking for a post at a school. But Ive nowhere to stay Do you know anyone letting a room?
The woman, Mrs. Margaret Howard, studied her. Neatly dressed, but shadows under her eyes.
You can stay with me. I wont charge much, but rent must be paid on time. If thats agreeable, Ill show you the room.
Glad for both the company and the income in her quiet corner of town, Margaret led Emily inside to a little room overlooking a tangled orchard. Bed, rickety wardrobe, an old deskenough for now.
The next days wove into a new routine. Emily settled in, helping out with chores. Each evening, she and Margaret drank tea beneath the untamed vines, talking softly as dusk crept in.
The pregnancy went smoothly. Emily confided her past: Tom, her sweetheart at university, son of well-off academics whod vanished at the first news of her condition. She’d kept the money hed leftshed need it soon enough.
You did the right thing keeping the child, Margaret grumbled, not unkindly. An innocent little one might surprise you with their joy.
February brought biting cold and then the pains began. Margaret took her to the clinic, and soon Emily gave birth to a sturdy boyHarry. On the ward, she overheard whispers of a baby girl abandoned after birth by her desperate mother.
Can someone feed her? Shes looking thin, the nurse said.
Emily cradled the small, pale infant in her arms.
Ill call you Daisy, she murmured.
Her world shifted the day Captain David Graham, the little girls father, appeared. Discharge day dawned, and outside, a car loaded with blue and pink balloons waited. The officer helped her carefully inside, gifting her two parcelsone blue, the other pink.
The town had plenty to gossip about in the months that followed. The captain, moved by Emilys kindness, had asked her to marry him. So Emilywith Harry in her arms and Daisy now her ownstepped into a new life.
Who would have imagined that a sweltering summers day and a jug of water would change everyones fortunes? So it goeslifes next page is always the one youve never read.
