Ally grew up in an orphanage, and for as long as she could remember, she was surrounded by other kids just like her and the carers. Life hadnt been kind, but shed learned to stand up for herselfand for the younger ones. She had a strong sense of fairness and couldnt stand seeing the weak picked on. Sometimes she took the brunt of it herself, but she never cried. She knew she was suffering for what was right.
Her full name was Albina, but at the orphanage, theyd shortened it to Ally. The day she turned eighteen, she was sent out into the world on her own. At least she had a tradeshed trained as a cook and had been working as a kitchen assistant in a café for a few months. They gave her a room in a shared house, but it was in such a state she could hardly bear to look at it.
By then, shed already been seeing Victor, who was three years older and worked at the same café as a delivery driver for a van. Soon enough, they moved in together at his tiny flat, left to him by his nan.
“Albina, just come live with me,” hed said. “Whats the point of that dingy place? The locks barely working. Needs a proper fix-up.” She agreed without hesitation.
She liked Victor because he was older, more serious. Once, when they talked about kids, hed said flatly, “Cant stand the little brats. Nothing but noise and hassle.”
“Victor,” she said, surprised, “but if its your own childyour flesh and bloodhow can you say that?”
“Give it a rest,” he scoffed. “Ive said my piece. No kids. End of.”
It stung, but she pushed the thought away. Maybe if they got married, hed change his mind.
Ally worked hard at the café, even filling in for the head cook, Valerie, when she called in sick with a “headache”though everyone knew Valerie just couldnt stop drinking.
“One more slip-up, and youre out,” the manager, Max, warned her. But he knew Valerie was a good cook, and the regulars loved her.
“Your chefs brilliant, Max,” friends would say.
So Valerie clung to her job, gritting her teeth through the warnings. She knew they only kept her because she could cook. But shed noticed Allyquick, capable, putting heart into her work. Even Max had started paying her more attention.
One day, Ally overheard Max talking to the floor manager. “If Valerie skips work again, shes done. Allys young, but shes got skill. Shes not spoiled, shes reliable.”
She walked away before hearing more.
“Blimey, Max has his eye on me,” she thought. “But I feel bad for Valerie. Shes decentjust cant kick the habit.” She decided to keep it to herself, even from Victor.
Time passed. Valerie went missing for a week, and Ally took over. Not a single customer complainedno one even noticed the switch. When Valerie finally returned, she was a wreck. Shaking hands, dark circles under her eyes, barely able to lift her head.
Max walked into the kitchen. “Valerie. My office. Now.”
She was sacked on the spot. Later, he came back and announced, “Ally, youre head cook from today. Youve got the knackand room to grow. Good luck.”
“Cheers,” she said, nerves fluttering. It was a big step.
She was chuffeddecent pay, and she was still young. “Ill prove myself,” she decided.
That evening, Victor brought home a bottle of bubbly. “Lets toast your promotion. Well done, Ally. Youve earned it.” He grinned, but there was something off about it.
Theyd been together a long time, but hed never mentioned marriage.
Months rolled by. Ally worked hard, Max praised her now and then. She had a real talent for cooking. Nearly three years with Victor, and he didnt drink, was usually behind the wheel, never raised a hand to her. They argued sometimes, but made up fast. Still, no ring. She wondered.
“Maybe if I get pregnant, hell come round. A proper family.”
She remembered his words about kids. But they hadnt talked about it since, and she wasnt ready yet anyway.
Then, one day, she realised she was expecting. The doctor confirmed it, put her on the register. She was over the moon.
“My own little one,” she whispered, touching her still-flat stomach.
When Victor got home, he saw her beaming. “Whats got you so happy?”
“I saw the doctor today. Were having a baby.”
His face went cold. “Not happening. Either get rid of it, or get out. I meant what I saidI dont want kids. You knew that.” His voice was calm, but it terrified her.
“Youre from the orphanage,” he added. “Where will you go, especially now? Think about it.”
The next day, after her shift, Ally packed her things and went back to the shared house. She stood in front of peeling door number thirty-five, sighed, and shoved it open with her shoulder.
The hinges creaked as she stepped inside. The room was damp, dusty, the ceiling flaking. Dead flies littered the windowsill.
“Bloody hell,” she muttered.
A rusty bed with a stained mattress, a wobbly table, a battered wardrobe with a door hanging off. She set down her baga few clothes, some books, cups and plates. Her hand rested on her stomach.
“Well manage,” she whispered.
Next door, someone shouteddrunk, swearing. A door slammed. She jumped.
“Welcome home, Ally,” she murmured.
The kitchen was shareda grimy stove, an old fridge, cockroaches scuttling by the bin.
Back in her room, she bolted the door. The ache in her chest nearly made her cry, but she swallowed it. Instead, she felt free.
Victors words echoed: “Where will you go?”
Well, here. Her own space. Shed clean it up, make it livable. She wasnt afraid of hard work.
Shed do it for the two of them.
The window was grimy, but shed scrub it till it shone. Outside, the weather was rubbisha dreary, drizzly summer.
“Well manage,” she repeated. “Because we have to.”
She got to work straight away, scrubbing, wiping, mopping until the place was clean. Fresh air blew in through the open window.
“Right. Now for the shopsblankets, pillows, towels, soap. A new lock first. Then dishes”
Bit by bit, life settled. Old Pete, the handyman at the shared house, fitted the lock for her. He was kind, always cracking jokes.
At the café, a new bloke, Tim, started as a waiterthough it wasnt his main job. Hed been watching Ally, and soon everyone knew shed be going on maternity leave.
One evening, he walked her home. Out of politeness, she invited him in for tea. That night, she realised he fancied herbut she pushed the thought away. She was pregnant.
Tim didnt give up. One day, he said, “Ally, marry me. Youre on your own, so am I. Got an old nan in the village, but no one else here. I love youyou and your little one.”
She glanced down at her bump.
“Dont say anything,” he said softly. “Hell be mine too. I want a house full of kids.”
She couldnt help comparing him to Victornight and day. Tim was warm, caring, worked two jobs.
She said yes.
When the time came, Tim drove her to the hospital, waited until she had their son. He raced home to fix up the roomnew wallpaper, a cot, a pram.
When she walked back in, she barely recognised the place. Tim had done it up right. Balloons everywhere, spotless.
They were home.
