Jenny was nervously twisting a piece of paper in her handsthe DNA test order for Julie. Why? Who needed this? Had Julies birth parents been found? Then why hadnt they come to see her, to talk? So many questions, and no answers.
“Mum, whats wrong?” Julie touched her shoulder. “Ive been calling you, but youre just staring.”
“Just thinking.”
“Whos the letter from?”
“Oh, no one,” Jenny said quickly, stuffing it into her apron pocket. “Ive filled a bucket with honeysuckleits so sweet today. And Ive drawn water for the garden. Do you need help with anything else? The girls and I are going to the river. Its boiling out there.”
Distracted, Jenny replied, “Go on, thenjust be careful.”
Julie snatched a couple of warm pastries, grabbed a towel, and dashed off.
Jenny needed to clear her head. She stepped outside and sat on the porch steps. *What do I do? Tomorrows Julies birthday. What a birthday present this is. No wonder Ive barely slept all week.*
A luxury car slowly rolled down the lane and stopped at the gate. An elegant older woman stepped out. “Hello, are you Eugenie Nicholson?”
Jennys heart clenched. She *knew*somehowthis woman was connected to the letter.
“Thats me.”
“May I speak with you? My name is Margaret Whitmore.”
“Of course! Come inside,” Jenny said, flustered.
The woman signalled to her driver, who retrieved a large bag from the boot. Jenny watched, dread creeping in.
“Alexander, youre free until” Margaret checked her expensive watch, “three oclock. Ill call if I need you sooner.”
“Why dont you take a walk down to the river?” Jenny suggested, bustling nervously. “Just follow that pathits lovely by the water. Ill lend you a towel. And park the car under the birchesno sense leaving it in the sun.”
Margaret waited until the driver left before asking, “May I sit?”
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jenny said, brushing imaginary crumbs from the table. “Ill put the kettle on. Do you like blackcurrant tea?”
As the kettle heated, Jenny turned to find Margaret staring at a large photo of Julie on the wall. Tears welled in the womans eyes.
“Thats Emily. Ive found her.”
Jennys legs turned to jelly. The room spun. She gripped the chair to steady herself.
“Thats *Julie*! Her name is *Julie*!” Jenny slammed her hands on the table, buried her face in them, and sobbed.
Margaret moved to her side, rubbing her back. “Im not here to take her from you. I just want to be part of her life. Please, calm down.” She hugged Jenny gently. “We need to talk properly.”
Sitting opposite, Margaret took Jennys hands. “Tell me how she came to you. I know bits, but not everything.”
Jenny met her gazethose eyes, so full of sorrow.
“I found her at the edge of the woods, looking for our cow,” Jenny began, voice shaky. “Tomorrow marks twelve years. We celebrate *her* birthday on that day. She was soaked, filthy, asleep in a ditch hugging a teddy just as muddy. At first, I thought it was rubbisha coloured bag. Then I saw her.”
Jenny twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Poor thing couldnt stand, too weak even to cry. I carried her home, fed her, and she slept for hours.” A nervous tremor ran through her.
“I sent the neighbours lad for the nurse and to call the police. The nurse came, wanted to examine her, but Julie clung to me like a limpether little fingers white with the grip. The nurse said she looked about two, healthy but starved.”
The kettle whistled softly, but neither woman noticed.
“The constable came, took notes, said no missing children had been reported nearby. Promised to escalate it. Later, neighbours brought clothes and toys, but she wouldnt let go of that teddy. I washed them together.”
Jenny paused, lost in the memory. Margaret waited patiently.
“Three days, she wouldnt leave my arms. Always hungry. The nurse said small meals, often. For a year after, she hid bits of bread everywhere. I named her Juliefound her in July. She learned to stand, then run. I was so proud, watching her grow stronger. Slept beside me but screamed in her sleepnightmares, maybe. Didnt speak at first.”
Jenny took a breath. “A month later, social services came to take her. By then, she was calling me Mum. They couldnt pry her away. Left me with paperwork, told me to bring her in. Never set a deadline. I was frantichow could I send her to a home? *I* grew up in one. I know what its like.”
Margaret stroked her hand. She wanted to ask something but hesitated.
“I tried to adopt her, but they said nosingle woman. In desperation, I proposed to a local chap: Marry me, just for the paperwork. Well divorce after. Wrote him a note, no claims later. Ended up with a husband *and* a daughter. Life works strangely. Were still togetherhappy, too.”
Whether from Margarets soothing touch or her attentive silence, Jenny calmed.
“You wanted to ask something?”
“Yes, dear. How did *you* end up in care?”
“My parents died on an expeditionvolcanologists.” Jenny meant to take the kettle off but forgot. “I was eight, staying with my gran here for summer. They wouldnt let her keep mehealth issues. No relatives qualified. Some dodgy businessour London flat sold the day before they died. Their friends tried to investigate, but” She shrugged.
Margaret studied her. *Good soul*, she thought.
“They sent me to a home far from London but near Gran. I kept running away. They threatened to send me to a psych ward. Then the local headteacher, Mr. Thompson, arranged for me to live at home but stay on the homes books. Three years later, paperwork cameGran got custody as next of kin. I owe him everything. He helped with Julie, too.”
Jenny blinked, suddenly remembering. “Goodness, I promised you tea!” She jumped up, setting out fresh pastries.
“I brought treats, toochocolates, biscuits, fruit,” Margaret said, unpacking elegant boxes.
“You shouldnt have! But tell mehow are you related to Julie?”
“Im her grandmother.”
Jenny sat back down. “But you said you wouldnt take her?”
“Darling, I wont. Shes been through enough.” Margaret pulled out pills. “May I have water?”
Jenny handed her a glass. “Are you ill?”
“Worse than Id like.” She paused. “Youll wonder how I found you. Mind if I say you?”
Jenny shook her head.
“I hired a detective. All clues led here. He dug up your history, too. After meeting you, Im certainEmily stays with you. Ill likely buy a place nearby. Well figure the rest out.”
“*We*? Ive never hidden Julies adoption. She knows. Sometimes she asks for the storyhow I found her in the woods. Shell stare at that teddy, like shes trying to remember. I let her. She shares everything with me, but some spaces are just hers.”
“Its not you. Its a fifteen-year mess. Our son fell for a uni classmatebrash, sharp. Something off about her. He didnt see it; we blamed her upbringing. Smart, though. Ambitious. They married in their final year. We werent thrilled but welcomed her. Jeremy and Tanya were a striking pair. Odd, thoughno family at the wedding. She mumbled about alcoholic parents, brothers. Never let us in.”
Margaret spoke softly, choosing words carefully.
“We gave them our London flat, moved to the country. Emily was born in Maywe were overjoyed. Jeremy adored her.”
“He finished his degree; she dropped out, took leave to care for Emily. Later, we hired a nanny so she could return. She didnt. Started demanding moneya car wed promised for the baby. Wed just invested in the family business. Jeremy threw himself into work. We flew to Germany for equipment deals. When we called, the nanny said Tanya had taken Emily the day we left. She wasnt answering calls. We rushed back. The flat was ransacked, things missing. Police took printsfound matches, but no arrests.”
Margaret wiped her brow. The retelling exhausted her.
“Jeremy reported them missing. Police shruggedMothers rights. Just paperwork: Unable to locate. We kept searching, but nothing.”
The kettle screamed unnoticed.
“Nine months ago, I lost them both. My husband was driving when his heart gave out. Jeremy was beside him. In hospital, his last words were, Find Emily. I had to honour that.”
Her voice was flat, pain simmering beneath.
“I hired an ex-detective. Started with the printsbelonged to a convict, Tanyas half-brother. Hed visited her after prison, brought a mate. Tanya had taken up with this bloke. He admitted theyd dumped Emily on a roadside when she cried. Gave a rough direction. No idea where Tanya is now.”
Jenny shook her head, horrified.
“From there, it was recordspolice reports, social services. The detective overstepped, got that DNA order sent to you. I was in Switzerland, didnt know. Came straight here when I got back.”
Jenny laid the letter on the table.
“Im sorry, love. Mustve scared you.” Margaret reached into her bag. “Herephotos of Jeremy and Emily. No test needed, but well do it. Shes his heir.”
Jenny studied the photos. It *was* Julie.
“How do we tell her?”
“Whos this? Hello! Whats going on? And whys the kettle boiling dry?”
Neither had heard Julie return. Margaret paled, clutching her chest.
“Julie, this is your grandmother,” Jenny blurted.
“Gran?” Julie eyed the woman warilythen lit up. “*Gran*! I knew youd find me!” She flung herself at Margaret. “You gave me my teddy!”
All three hugged, weeping. Much was left to sort, but one thing was clearMargaret had found more than just her granddaughter.
And the kettle kept whistling.
