How can you sink so low? Little one, arent you ashamed? Your hands and feet are fine, why arent you working? the words were hurled at the woman with a child.
Mabel Cartwright shuffled past the towering aisles of the new Sainsburys in York, eyeing the rainbowcoloured packs like a kid in a candy shop. She visited the store every day, not for work but because it was the only place she could escape the quiet of her flat. With no family to feed, there wasnt much to buy, yet each evening she fled her solitude for the bright, humming hall of the supermarket.
When the weather turned warm, a bench with the neighbours made the days bearable. Winter, however, left her no choice, and Mabel grew fond of her trips to the massive food palace.
The place buzzed with shoppers, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and lowkey music. The brightly boxed goodies looked more like childrens toys than groceries, and they managed to coax a smile from even the sternest face.
Mabel lifted a pot of strawberry yoghurt, squinting at the label and ingredients, then promptly returned it to the shelf. Such a treat was beyond her modest budget, but a quick look never hurt. As she surveyed the abundance, memories of a different era flooded back.
She recalled the endless queues at the local grocer, where shopkeeperslike feral tigersfought over the scant supplies. She remembered the thick grey paper bags in which purchases were wrapped.
A soft laugh rose from the memory of raising her daughter. To make the girl happy, Mabel would stand in any line, no matter how long. Thoughts of her child made Mabels heart thump louder. She paused by a low freezer of frozen fish, leaning heavily on it.
The image of her daughter, Poppy, materialised: a head of copperred curls, big grey eyes, a sprinkle of freckles across the nose, and cheek dimples that seemed permanently amused.
How beautiful she once was, Mabel thought, a twinge of sadness in her voice.
Under the shopkeepers disapproving glance, she moved toward the bakery display.
Poppy had been Mabels sole joy. She grew into a clever girl, and when she realised a ninetofive job wouldnt bring her happiness, she turned to surrogacy, just as Mabel had warned her it was a dubious path.
At twenty, who heeds a mothers advice? If only a caring father had been there, things might have turned out differently. Yet the crooks pushed an inexperienced girl into the business.
IrenePoppys younger sisterlaughed and stroked her rounded belly. Mabel shook her head, grief thick as fog. How could she give away a child she had carried for nine months?
Irene brushed it off: Its not a baby, its good money.
Complications followed, and the birth went tragically wrong. Three days after the babys arrival, the infant slipped away, and the effort to save her was halfhearted at best.
The newborn girl was handed over to her parents straight away. Of course, Mabel received not a penny; the money went to Poppy, not to the mother who had tried.
Mabel buried her daughter and was left alone, with no relatives to cling toa void she preferred not to fill. It was simpler that way.
Now she ambled toward the bread aisle, intent on buying something to prove she wasnt just wandering. She felt a few copper coins in her pocket, counted them, and handed the exact amount to the cashier, tucking the rest into her fist.
She recalled spotting a young beggar on the second day after the supermarket opened, barely a month ago. The girl was making her first rounds, eyes wide, clutching a baby in her arms. What had drawn the old womans attention? Perhaps the girls visible youth, or the tragic stillness of her pose, or the way she held the infant so protectively.
How can you sink so low? Mabel mused as she approached the familiar figure. She set down a small tin of pennies and addressed the girl: Little one, arent you ashamed? Your limbs are finewhy arent you working? You still have a chance to earn.
A few passersby hurried past, too busy to stop.
Thank you for the change, but please get on your way. I need to collect more, otherwise Im in trouble, the beggar replied, eyes flickering with desperation.
Mabel winced, shook her head, and moved on, not wanting to be a nuisance. She helped in her own way, though no police or social services seemed interested. Everyone was so used to beggars that they ignored them completely.
The image of the beggar and her child haunted Mabel all the way home. Their grey eyes and the young voice felt oddly familiar, as if shed heard them somewhere before. She tried to place the memory, straining her mind.
She locked the front door, slipped off her modest warm slippers, flicked the light on, and shuffled to the kitchen with the loaf of bread. Fifteen minutes later she was sipping hot sweet tea from her favourite mug, nibbling on a slice of seeded loaf with a thin slice of ham.
How hungry she must be, out in that cold! What a life, Mabel thought, peering out the window. Two roughlooking men were shoving the girl into a car.
Mabels heart raced. She reached for the phone to call the police, then stopped, fearing she might make things worse.
She looked out again; the forecourt of the supermarket was empty. She decided to wait until morning, knowing shed never get a clear view of the cars number plate from that distance.
A restless night passed, thoughts of the girl and child looping in her head. At dawn she dreamed a strange vision: her daughter Poppy standing at the supermarket entrance, clutching a shivering baby. The child was blue with cold, and Mabel pressed her close, trying to warm her. The baby said, Im not cold, mum, and Mabel, in a panic, brushed aside a patch of a warm blanket that covered the childs face, revealing a large pendant with a bear charm.
The bear charm, Mabel whispered, startled awake. Her eyes landed on the wall clock opposite the bed.
Why had I slept so long? She glanced at the timenine oclock. She sprang up and rushed to the window.
The girl and child were still where theyd been, the right side of the supermarket door, everything calm.
Thank heavens, she sighed, crossing herself.
Outside, New Years Eve was creeping in, the wind biting hard. The child had been out for over an hour and could freeze to the bone by nightfall.
Mabel fetched the loaf, slapped together ham sandwiches, poured sweet tea into a thermos, and hurried to dress warmly.
When the frantic girl saw an elderly lady approaching, she covered a bruise on her temple with a warm scarf.
Dont worry, love, Mabel said, handing over the food. I dont want you to starve.
The girl smiled with her eyes and took the sandwiches, settling on a bench a short distance away. She devoured the bread, chewing barely, coughing as she swallowed. She glanced anxiously at the baby wailing in someone elses arms, shoved the last bite into her mouth, washed it down with tea, brushed crumbs off, and hurried back to Mabel.
Thank you. Well manage until seven, then theyll collect us, she said.
Throughout the afternoon Mabel kept glancing out the window, watching the thermometers mercury creep lower.
By five p.m. she ladled a pot of stew into a tin and set off for more supplies.
Passing another young woman, she placed a tin of food beside her, slipped a few pennies into her pocket, gave a conspiratorial wink, and darted back into the warmth of the shop.
She wasnt planning to linger. She needed sausage and pickled cucumbers for a modest New Years salad. She couldnt afford a lavish feast, but she could avoid hunger. When she left the store, the beggar was nowhere to be seen, and the tin of stew had vanished. She must be eating somewhere, Mabel thought, smiling, and hurried home.
She would now slice the snacks, pop a carp into the oven, and set the table. Perhaps a neighbour would drop by.
As ten oclock approached, Mabel glanced out again, wanting to be sure the girl had been taken home to warmth.
She scanned the festive lights twinkling outside the shopping centre. On a bench beneath a bright lantern sat a familiar figure, shoulders trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Mabel flung herself around the house. The celebration was two hours away, and a person outside was still shivering. She threw a warm scarf over her shoulders, slipped into her house shoes, and bolted down the stairs. She stopped beside the beggar, catching her breath, and tried to steady her pounding heart before collapsing onto the bench next to the girl.
I have nowhere else to go, the girl whispered, grief thick in her voice.
Hope flickered in the girls eyes as she clutched a small bundle and, with a shaking hand, handed it to Mabel before limping toward the road.
Mabels mind swirled. The young womans intentions were now crystal clear. She wasnt fleeing a happy life; she was desperate. Mabel gathered her strength, lunged after the girl, caught up, and turned her toward the nearby fivestorey block.
Inside the warm room, Mabel placed the baby by a radiating heater.
Whats your name? she asked, then stopped, noticing a tiny bear pendant around the childs neck.
The girl followed her gaze and said, Dont worry, thats all I have left from my mother.
Mabels eyes widened. She recognised the pendantit was the one she had once given to her own daughter, Poppy, years ago when money was tight. Back then shed sold a silver brooch to a jeweller, who, after much haggling, turned it into a bear charm. He paid her enough for a gold chain and a modest celebratory dinner for her daughters friends.
The girl, now shivering, asked, May I use the shower?
Mabel nodded, and the girl slipped away for a quick wash while Mabel sipped a calming draught.
So the beggar is her granddaughter, but that cant be right, Mabel mused.
She tucked the nowfed baby onto a sofa and set a place for her guest at the modest spread.
Alice! Mabel called, as if on a whim.
How do you know my name? the girl asked, puzzled.
Mabel waved a hand vaguely. I think I heard you eating.
Cold sweat beaded on Mabels brow. No doubt she had taken in her own grandchild. The name Alice had been chosen long ago for the child that never got to be born, the one her daughter Poppy had once carried.
Alice smiled gratefully, eyes widening at the dishes before her, and began to eat.
Mabel watched her, searching for familiar features.
So, Alice, tell me what happened to you, she prompted.
Alice, as if waiting for the question, swallowed and launched into a rapid, tangled tale, spilling out the pain shed bottled up.
She spoke of living with her dad and mum until she was five, even having a pony. Then her parents fought, split up, and her mother, one day, simply left her at a childrens home, signing an abandonment form. The girl never understood why. She was tossed out of a fairytale like an unwanted toy.
Twelve years later she left the orphanage, moved into a council flat that was supposed to be demolished, and met Vass, a plumber. When Vass discovered she was pregnant, he vanished. The flat was cleared, and she was allowed to stay in a rundown house until the baby arrivedonly to find the new flat already occupied.
She wasnt cut out for fighting for herself, especially with a baby strapped to her. She drifted from station to station, begging for change in the underground. Thats when Igor Grey, a local gang leader, spotted her.
The pretty beggar with a baby could fetch good money, he thought, offering her a room in exchange for the alms she collected.
Thus she and her son lived in a cramped basement of a tower block, surrounded by others in similar plightcripples, the sick, and a troupe of selfstyled theatrical beggars who painted bruises and fake bellies for extra donations. The genuine beggars, like Alice, earned far less.
Days blended together. In the mornings, the beggars were dispatched to their spots; evenings brought the collection of whatever theyd earned. Conditions were bearable, but lately the pressure mounted. They were told there wasnt enough money, and a crying baby was a nuisance to the others.
Today, no one came for her; she was left to fend for herself. She stared at her halfempty plate.
Thank you, I dont even know how wed have survived the night, she whispered, placing her fork down and yawning.
Well leave in the morning, dont worry, I just need a bit of sleep, she muttered, collapsing into the chair.
Mabel roused the girl, helped her to a bed, and coaxed the baby onto a comfortable armchair.
Mabel sat at her modest New Years table, smiling as the presidents speech droned on the TV. Shed never let her granddaughter and her son go, not tomorrow, not the day after, never. They would stay with her; it was the right thing to do. In due time shed reveal who she really was, help the girl stand on her own feet, and raise the boy properly. For now, shed let things settle and heal.
When the clock struck twelve, Mabel poured herself a small dram of sweet liqueur and took a sip.
She moved to the window, watching the street illuminated by lanterns, admiring the gentle snowfall. Thank you, Lord, for this unexpected happiness. Farewell, loneliness! I have a family again, she thought, the smile on her face warm enough to melt the frost outside.
