Philip had loved Emma since their schoolyard days, and they whispered about marrying someday.
Philips mother, Margaret Whitcombe, who ran the maternity ward at St.Albans Hospital, disapproved of her sons choice. She had long favored a nurse named Charlotte, a girl adored by the staff and patients alikea daughter of a long line of doctors.
After finishing school, Philip entered medical school, while Emma enrolled in a school of foreign languages to become an English translator like her mother and grandmother. Their friends decided to mark the occasion with a weekend in the countryside and drove to Philips familys cottage in the Cotswolds.
They lingered there almost a month, reluctant to return. At last term began, and preparations were required.
One autumn evening Emma said to Philip:
Im pregnant. How will you react?
What else could I do? Ill sweep you up and take you to the register office.
Im not light, Im heavy.
Scare a sportsman? I used to wrestle at school. Youre as light as a feather to me, Philip joked, delighted.
But what about our studies?
About the studies, love, youll need a years break after the baby arrives.
Ill switch to distance learning, like my mum. She had me at nineteen and juggled everything. But lets agree, Phil: after the wedding youll move in with us, keep a respectful distance from my mother. Ive known shell never accept me. Shes a character.
Only for your peace of mind, love, Philip answered.
Emma and Philip lodged their marriage notice at the register office and then drifted apart. Emmas flat was full of guests. A friend of her father arrived with his wife and their son Arthur, sixteen but already looking older.
Back at his own house, Philip told his parents the news and warned them to start thinking about the wedding.
Margaret detested the idea and, that night, went to Emmas parents home to cause a scene. She rang the doorbell repeatedly, but nobody answered. In the livingroom a gramophone played a tune that matched the bells chime, and no one paid attention. Arthur was taking a shower and, hearing the noise, wrapped a towel around his hips and opened the door.
Margaret, momentarily startled, realised she still held her phone. She pressed record and began filming the hallway, focusing on the towelclad boy.
Are you here to see MrsHarrington? Arthur asked, bewildered by the phones movement.
Not any more, Margaret whispered, hurrying down the stairs.
Later she showed Philip the clip, emphasizing how long it had taken Arthur to answer.
Do you recognise the hallway? Still no clue who Emmas carrying.
I get it, Mum. You were right. Shes not the one for me.
Philip sent a furious text to Emma, then switched her phone off completely. Emma, baffled, tried to call him, but after midnight she walked to his door anyway.
Margaret, expecting Emma to come for answers, watched from a cracked window. When she saw the girl, she rushed to the hallway and flung the door open herself. She barred Emma from entering, stepped onto the landing and called out:
What do you want from Philip? Hes asleep. And you, playing both sides? Keep seeing other men, you twofaced thing, she snarled, then slammed the door behind her and retreated to her flat.
Emma, tears streaming, collapsed onto the stair. After a while she returned home. In the kitchen, MrsHarrington was washing dishes, and her sobbing daughter clung to her.
Lucy, whats wrong? The weddings near; you should be happy.
Mum, theres nothing left but this child Im carrying. It seems your husband stirred up trouble after learning wed applied for marriage, Emma said, showing her mother the angry message Philip had sent about a mysterious lover.
If Philip behaves like this, hell keep obeying his parents. God has kept him away from you. Well raise the child ourselves, her mother tried to soothe her.
After the fallout with Philip, Emma endured a hard pregnancy. She was rushed to the maternity ward while her parents were at work. The baby was delivered under anaestheticthe only option. Later the doctor told her the infant had been stillborn.
The paperwork handed the tiny, lifeless body to the parents, who buried him quietly. Emma remained in the ward, missing the ceremony.
Soon after, Philips parents sold their house and left the village.
Its for the best, love. Youll never have peace with Philip, and hell just stroll past with a smug grin, Margaret said.
I hope Ill forget him faster, Emma replied.
Eight years slipped by.
Emma worked as a translator for a modest firm when Philip suddenly appeared in her office.
Why have you turned up now? Ive long since forgotten you, she said coolly.
Im sorry, but tragedy has dragged me back to you, he replied.
Thats odd, Phil. You have a nice mum. Send her your worries. I have no time for you. Please leave, Emma snapped, turning back to her screen.
I beg you, Lucy, listen. It matters to you too. Ill wait at the café across the street after work, he pleaded.
Ill only come out of curiosity, Emma said, her gaze fixed on the monitor, signalling the end of the talk.
That evening they met again.
Im sorry, Lucy, but my son is ill and needs a donor, Philip said.
Youve got the wrong address, Phil. Your mother has more resources nearby, Emma retorted.
Weve been waiting, and no donor is available. I even listed my flat for sale. Youre a mother; you have a better chance of helping our boy.
This is a joke? Our son was stillborn. My parents buried him, Emma protested.
Hes alive now, eight years old.
How?
Remember the day we filed our marriage notice?
Ill never forget your nasty message.
Philip repeated the story his mother had told him about the night shed filmed the hallway.
Emma explained who Arthur was, and Philip turned pale. He still loved her and had never remarried. She, too, remained single, fearing another pregnancy loss and the grief that would follow.
Phil, tell me about our son. What did your mother do? Emma asked.
When you were in the maternity ward, my mother saw you being wheeled down the corridor to the operating theatre. She guessed, halfin jest, that the baby might be yours. The test proved my paternity, but she refused to give you the child. Im to blame for agreeing. My grudge haunted me. It seems God punished us; our son Samuel is ill.
Lets take him to the clinic. Test my compatibility. If Im not a match, then he must share my blood type, which is
Yes, Lucy, Im typeO.
Emmas hands trembled as she entered the ward where a small boy lay.
Samuel, Ive finally found our mother. Weve been lost, but people have led us to each other, Philip whispered, while Emma stood speechless.
Mom, Ive been waiting for you. I imagined you just like this, even though we have no photos of you at home, Samuel said.
Sweetheart, everything will be alright. Im here and will do anything to make you well, Emma sobbed, hugging him.
Son, let your mother go. She needs to speak with the doctor, the nurse urged.
Emma turned out to be a perfect match; Samuels treatment succeeded. Philip sold the last of his property and settled the clinics bill. They now lived together in a modest flat above Emmas parents house.
Lucy, forgive me, but we must marry, and you should have another child. Our sons doctor says siblings make better donors than parents.
Ive read that, Phil. For our childrens health Im ready for anything.
They wed, and beside Samuel they raised two more childrena boy and a girlunder the soft glow of English rain, their lives a strange, lingering dream that never quite woke.
