On a bitterly cold night, the wind howled outside while a barefoot, heavilypregnant woman pounded at my front door. Inside, the cottage was warm and cosy; the fire crackled in the grate, the telly was showing the latest episode of *Coronation Street*, and the snow drummed against the panes. Margaret, an old lady whod been the village nurse many years ago, was settled in her battered armchair, watching the drama and stroking her cat Morris, who had curled into a tight ball on her lap.
Suddenly the window rattled, then the front gate. Our dog Rex let out a fierce bark that made the house shiver, and then everything fell silent.
Who could be out in this weather? Must be a trick, Margaret muttered, pulling on her slippers and thick coat before trudging out to see if there was firewood to fetch.
She fought her way through the drifts, opened the gate and froze. Standing there, barely keeping her balance on the icy ground, was a young woman in a nightshirt, barefoot, wrapped in a knitted shawl. Her belly was round and unmistakable.
She whispered hoarsely, Please, dont turn me away! They want to take my baby!
There was no time for doubt. Margaret ushered the girl inside, threw a coat over her shoulders and said, Heavens above! Who would be so cruel as to cast a pregnant woman out into the frost?
Having been a nurse, Margaret knew the dangers of a winter outdoor walk for a expectant mother. She boiled water, warmed the girls feet, rubbed them with antiseptic, wrapped her in blankets, offered a mug of hot tea with raspberry jam, and put her to bed without asking any questions. Mornings wiser than night, she thought.
The girl fell asleep instantly, murmuring a grateful Thank you. The night outside was restlesspeople shouted, cars screeched, and headlights spun in the storm.
Emily awoke to the comforting smell of fried eggs and fresh scones. The baby in her womb stirred, demanding nourishment. She slipped out of the covers, noticing a cosy nightgown and warm slippers waiting by the bed. For a moment she felt the same safety she remembered when she was a child visiting her grandmother in a countryside hamlet, and she didnt want the harsh world back.
In the kitchen, Margaret was laying golden, buttery pancakes on a plate. She glanced at Emily and said gently, Come on, love, wash up and have breakfast. The little one must be hungry. After you eat, you can tell me whats happened to you.
Emily ate heartily, then sighed and began her tale.
I grew up in an orphanage. I never knew my parents. My grandma Agnes raised me until I was five, then she died and I went back to the home. After I left, they gave me a flat and sent me to a teachers college. At a disco I met a very rich fellowSimon. All the girls stared at him, but he chose me. He was ten years older, owned a house in the next village, his father was a bigshot. He courted me, brought flowers, took me to the cinema, and I fell utterly in love. He made me feel like the world was under my feet.
They lived together in his house. At first everything was fine, but when Emily discovered she was pregnant, Simons temper changed. He began drinking heavily, came home drunk, and started lashing out. He abused her, and two weeks ago he brought another girl home and made a sport of it in front of her. Emily decided to leave, but Simon blocked her, threatened, You wont go anywhere. Youll give birth to my child, then Ill throw you away. Youll never see your son again. He locked her in a room, had the housemaid bring her food, and she cried and pleaded.
One night, the maid, Inga, unlocked the door. Emily ran, not remembering much beyond the cold wind, and somehow ended up at my cottage. She sobbed, Thank you, thank you
I asked, Is this really happening? What will you do now?
She replied, I dont know. Please dont turn me away. Simon will take the baby after its born and abandon me. Im nothingno wife, just an orphan. I might kill myself.
I told her to throw those thoughts away. My son, Detective Greg, is on patrol soon. Hell hear your story and maybe help.
Detective Greg, a local police constable, had just finished his shift, mulling over how unfair life could be. Hed recently split with his wife Helen, who despised his modest police salary and wanted him to quit and chase a glamorous career, eventually leaving him. After the breakup, Helen found a wealthy man and moved abroad, leaving Greg back with his mother in the family home, bitter about womens greed.
Greg entered the kitchen, shouted Hey, mum! and headed for the scent of food. Margaret introduced Emily, This is our guest, Emily. Shes in trouble. Could you listen to her, maybe think of a way to help?
Emily, pale as a frightened fawn, looked like a deer caught in headlights: big, watery blue eyes framed by long lashes, golden hair tied in a loose bun, a protruding swollen belly. She whispered, Please dont turn me over to them.
Gregs heart clenched. Hed never seen anyone so vulnerable. Dont worry, Emily, we wont let anyone take you. He asked about her documents. Everythings with Simon at his cottagepassport, keys, everything. Im terrified to go there, she sobbed.
Greg proposed, Stay with us for now. Ill go into town, buy you some clothes and supplies, and use my contacts to find out who this Simon fellow really is and get your things back. Deal?
Emily hesitated, Its dangerous. Im to blame. Im sorry for dragging you into this.
Greg smiled, Helping people is my job, love.
Through his police colleagues, Greg discovered that Andrew Marshall, a wellknown local businessman, was Simons father. Andrews empire was shady, with rumors of drug ties, but evidence was thin. Greg decided to confront Simon directly.
When he arrived at the cottage, a polished young man opened the door, Who are you and what do you want?
Greg introduced himself, Im Detective Greg Hughes, your local constable. I need to speak with you about Emily. The young man sneered, Make it quickIve guests.
Greg said, I know youve kept Emilys documents and belongings. Return them. Shes terrified and wants no more contact.
Simons face flushed with anger. You little pest! Ive got no use for her. Ill take the baby and thats the end of it. Who told you she should even be pregnant?
Gregs temper rose, You have no right to strip a mother of her child without consent! Simon laughed, My father controls the whole area. No one will stop us. He slammed the door.
Greg, enraged by the brashness, decided to go after Andrew. Hed spent a month gathering evidence on the familys illicit dealings. He confronted Andrew in his sleek office, presenting documents that linked his son to illegal activity and the kidnapping of Emilys belongings.
Andrew, after a moment of contemplation, replied, Ive heard enough. Ill have the items returned and sort this mess. I dont need trouble with the law. He instructed his secretary to send Emilys passport, keys, and other things back to the cottage.
Greg raced home, breathless, and found Margaret, Emily, and the little boy Samher newbornbusy making pastries. Emily was dusted with flour, her hair a mess, but smiling. Greg announced, Emily, youre safe now. Simons gone, your things are on their way. She threw her arms around him, sobbing, Thank you, Greg. I thought Id never see daylight again.
Margaret, still wiping her hands, interjected, Will she have somewhere to live? Shes got a baby and no work.
Greg replied, Well look for her relatives, maybe a sister or aunt. Emily, startled, said, Ive never even known where my family started.
Together they traced old records, found a retired caretaker from the orphanage, learned Emilys grandmothers maiden name was Violet Whitaker, and eventually uncovered a distant aunt living in a nearby town.
The revelation stunned everyone. Margaret wept, Emily, you look just like my sister Violet. Ill find her photograph. She rummaged through yellowed albums, holding up a picture of a young woman with strikingly similar eyes and hair. Thats her. She vanished after a tragic birth, then fled. Perhaps fate brought you here.
Greg lowered his head, whispering, So were halfsiblings? He stepped outside, fell to his knees, and wept, Why? Why this cruel twist?
Life slowly settled back into its familiar rhythm. Emily gave birth to a healthy boy, Sam, and moved into a modest flat of her own. On weekends she visited her aunt, and Margaret delighted in holding the infant, humming lullabies.
Greg, however, seemed a changed man. He lost weight, grew sullen, and turned to the bottle, avoiding eye contact with Emily. The love hed felt for her now lay buried beneath shame and sorrow.
Margaret, seeing his torment, prayed nightly, Lord, give me the strength to tell the truth, so these children may find peace. She had kept the secret of Emilys parentage for years, but now she could no longer bear the silence.
One evening, after Emilys visit, Margaret placed baby Sam on the porch, called Greg and Emily inside, opened an old wooden chest, and began, Greg, my dear, I thought youd never learn the truth. Im not just your mothers friendIm your birth mother. I adopted you after a girl abandoned a newborn in the ward. I raised you as my own, fearing youd reject me.
Greg stared, stunned, then cried, Mum, why? Why keep this from me?
Margaret sobbed, I was terrified. Your father died young; I never wanted to lose you again. I hid the truth, hoping youd never have to suffer.
Emily, frozen, whispered, Is thisreal?
Greg, still in disbelief, fell to his knees, embraced Margaret, and said, Thank you for telling me. I love you, Mum, for everything youve done.
Emily, shaking, managed, I I accept this. The three of them held each other, tears spilling over.
Later, Greg turned to Emily, Emily, Ive loved you from the moment I saw you. I know we cant be together, but I can give you and Sam a home, a future. Will you marry me, so we can raise Sam together as a family?
Emily smiled through tears, Yes, I will.
Thus the horror of the past faded, replaced by a bright, hopeful future. Emily, now married to Greg, raised Sam in a warm cottage, while Margaret continued to crochet and bake, her heart finally at peace.
