**Diary Entry 15th March**
The boy was staring out the window, tugging at his grandmothers sleeve.
“Gran, when are we going out?”
“Not today, love. Its freezing, and Ive got knitting orders to finish,” she replied. Edith Wilson knitted hats and scarves from home to make ends meet, and today she had a seta hat, mittens, and a scarfto complete.
But her grandson, Oliver, wouldnt let up.
“Alright, alright,” she sighed. “Well go for a short walk, but not long. Its bitter out, and Ive work to do.”
Outside, the playground was desertedeveryone else had the good sense to stay indoors. Oliver darted about, while Edith shivered, her fingers numb.
“Thats enough, Ollie. Well catch our deaths out here,” she called.
But the boy was already off, vanishing into the maze of climbing frames before falling silent. She called his name, her voice sharp with worry, until he finally answered.
“Gran! Theres a doll in here! Can we take it?”
Edith stepped inside the structureand froze. A handbag sat on the damp wood, a faint whimper escaping from within. Her stomach lurched. She unzipped it and gasped. A tiny baby, wrapped in nothing but a thin blanket, lay inside, its face blue with cold.
She snatched the child to her chest, dialling 999 with shaking hands. The ambulance and police arrived swiftly. The baby was rushed to hospital, and Edith and Oliver stayed to give statements.
“How did you find her?” an officer asked.
Edith wiped her eyes. “If not for Oliver running off, Id never have heard her. Shed have been left to” She couldnt finish.
The officer ruffled Olivers hair. “Good lad. Youve saved a life today.”
Edith couldnt fathom ithow could anyone abandon their own flesh and blood?
The officer just shook his head. “Youd be shocked what we see. Some leave em on doorsteps, others in bins. Nothing surprises us anymore.”
Before leaving, Edith begged for news. The baby was stablejust mild hypothermia. But the officer said another hour, and she wouldnt have made it.
At home, Edith couldnt focus on knitting. The next morning, she phoned the hospital.
“May I ask your relation to the child?” the receptionist inquired briskly.
“No relation. My grandson and I found her.”
The womans tone softened. “Oh, its you! The little girls doing well. Thank God you were there.”
“Could we visit? Bring anything she needs?”
“Against policy, but come tomorrow. Nappies and formula would help.”
The following afternoon, Edith and Oliver arrived with supplies. The babytiny, perfectlay swaddled in a hospital blanket. Tears pricked Ediths eyes. Shed brought a soft grey scarf, edged with an intricate pattern, one shed knitted on a whim. It wasnt for salejust a quiet gift waiting for the right moment. She tucked it around the infant, whispering a blessing.
They followed the girls progress. Named Sophia, she was placed with a childless couple who adored her the moment they saw her. Her birth mother, tracked down, lost all rights.
Years passed.
Today, eighteen years later, I baked Olivers favouritesteak and ale piefor his visit. Hed been cryptic, promising a surprise.
The door opened.
“Gran, meet my fiancée, Sophia,” Oliver said, beaming. “Feels like Ive known her forever.”
My heart leapt. “Wonderful news! Welcome, love.”
Sophia smiled shyly, unwinding a scarf from her coatand my breath caught.
“Thats a lovely pattern,” I managed.
She touched it fondly. “Had it since I was little. Cant bear to part with it.”
I knew then. The very scarf Id given that baby. Fate had woven Oliver and Sophia together long before theyd met. Some bonds, it seems, are written in the stars.
**Lesson:** Lifes twists are beyond our graspbut sometimes, against all odds, they stitch together a perfect fit.
