July 7th! This can’t be! Just a coincidence—yet the name’s Andrew.

July7th! This cant be just a coincidence. And the name Andrewdifferent middle name, different surname. As if an adoptive family could change a childs patronymic and last name, even his first name She stared at the portrait of the man, as if hoping to glimpse something familiar.

In the humanresources office of the Birmingham City Council, the clerk processed the paperwork for a new employee. She then called out:

Miss Anne, could you come into my office? Your new colleague is waiting.

Soon after, Anne entered the office and the senior lady, already weathered by years of service, addressed her:

Are you the new cleaner?

Yes, Anne replied.

Im the caretaker, AnneAnderson, the woman introduced herself. And you?

VeraAlexander, the newcomer corrected, the silence in the seniors eyes asking for clarification. VeraAlexander.

Come with me, Ill show you your workplace, the caretaker said as they left the office, still chatting. Your floor will be the whole third level

***

Vera felt a surge of happiness at landing the job. She smiled brightly while surveying her new surroundings:

Two years left until I retire, and I could even keep working after that. The wage is £200 a week, plus occasional bonuses. With Derek Ill manage fine. The children are grown and have moved out. Oh, I dont even know the mayors name! It would be embarrassing if someone asked. Lunch is soon. Theres a photo of every mayor on the ground floor. How could I have missed that?

***

On her way back from the canteen, she passed a display board and read the mayors details: AndrewBoris, born 7July1983.

Oh, hes still quite youngunder forty, Vera thought, and a memory flickered. Andrew? 1983?

She turned back to the board and read the birth date again:

July7th! This cant be just a coincidence. And the name Andrew. Different middle name, different surname. As if an adoptive family could alter a childs patronymic and surname, even his first name”

She stared at the portrait of the man, hoping to see a familiar face.

***

The new job pushed stray thoughts to the background.

That evening she talked at length with her husband. Afterwards he went to his room to watch football, and Vera retired to hers.

Their flat was a spacious threebedroom house. With the children gone, it felt roomy. The husband sometimes shared the bed with Vera, but that happened less and less.

Now, lying in her own bedroom, thoughts whirled through her mindmemories of youth and a secret she had never disclosed to her husband.

She had a son by her first partner, and they named him Andrew. She was nineteen then, without money or work. She lived in a cramped dormitory after leaving school, not meant for a child. She managed to keep the baby for only six months before placing him in a childrens home.

Three years later she married Derek. They never discussed the period before the wedding. Soon they had two daughters. The older went to university in the county town, married there, and now has grandchildren in primary school. The younger married and lives in Manchester.

Vera never completed formal training for a trade. For the past twenty years she worked as a caretaker in a factory workshop. The factory recently went bust and all staff were laid off. A friends daughter then offered her a cleaning post at the council, and she accepted.

Now the mayor, AndrewBoris, born in 1983, sat in the council chambers. Vera didnt complain about her life, but she continually remembered the son she had once had. He visited her in dreams a few times. She just wanted to be sure that he was doing well.

***

A few days later Vera was tidying her floor when voices rose from the corridor. Mayor Andrew Boris stepped past a group of colleagues, nodding at Vera before continuing his conversation.

In that instant Veras mind flashed to Victor, the boy she had fallen for forty years earlier. He had been handsome and cheerful, and she had always imagined him as a serious, businesslike man. Seeing the mayor, she realized that the younger version of Victor shed once wanted was exactly the type of person she now saw in Andrew.

Victor had left her the moment he learned Vera was expecting a child, claiming he would go abroad to earn money. At first she waited, then hoped, and finally understood he had simply run away.

Could Andrew be my son? she wondered. If I hadnt given him up, would he be different? My daughters have done wellmarried, own a flat, have cars. The younger is also thriving. But I have no son.

Would I have married Derek if Id kept him? she mused. My fate, his fate, and Andrews would all be altered. Perhaps Andrew isnt my son after all. Could there be such an incredible coincidence?

In the end it mattered little. He had parents who raised him from six months old, and they probably never told him he wasnt their own. His childhood, despite the mystery, had been happy. Its rare for an ordinary lad to become mayor.

***

After lunch, Veras young colleague Olivia approached her.

Hi, Aunt Vera!

Hello!

Were celebrating Lucys birthday on Friday. She cleans the sixth floor and turns fortyfive. Will you join us?

Of course! Vera smiled.

Great, the contribution is £5, plus you can bring a little something special.

Alright, Vera reached into her purse and handed over the five pounds.

Thanks, Olivia. Just call me Vera; were colleagues, after all.

Will do, Vera!

***

On Friday, after work, the team gathered on the seventh floor where a spare office had been cleared and a table set. As usual, everyone offered toasts in order, each sip of red wine punctuating the words.

The door swung open and Mayor Andrew Boris entered, smiling.

Lucy OLeary, happy birthday! he said, handing her a small box. A little gift.

Thank you, Mayor, Lucys eyes glistened with tears.

Andrew, have a seat with us, the caretaker invited.

Just for a short while, he agreed, settling next to Vera.

She placed a fresh salad and slices of ham on her plate, poured wine into glasses, and listened as the mayor gave a toast. Vera watched him, her heart trembling. She no longer doubtedthis was her son.

Andrew lingered for about twenty minutes, then bade farewell and left.

Thats a good man! remarked Katie, the longestserving council employee, who seemed to know everyones business. Its not every day the former mayor sits with us.

How long has Andrew been here? Vera asked.

A year. Remember we elected him last year? Katie replied.

Vera drew a blank; Derek usually made the decisions.

You know his parents are wealthy and wellconnected, Katie continued. But you also know they arent his biological parents.

What? Theyre not his real parents? Lucy, surprised, asked.

It came out two years ago when he prepared for the election. He never seemed to react at all, Katie explained.

How do you know all this? Vera pressed.

The former mayors deputy, Olga Parker, kept tabs on Andrew. She wanted her boss to stay in power, but the old mayors supporters didnt back him, Katie said. He apparently never learned who his birth parents were.

Does he even know? Vera asked.

Seems not. He loves the people who raised him. By all accounts, hes a decent man.

Vera stared at the doorway where the mayor had just stood, feeling both joy and sadness. Joy that the boyher boywas thriving; sorrow that she could never hold him in her arms. The fault, she realized, lay with herself. She whispered silently:

I wont trouble you, my son. Ill always be near, in spirit.

The lesson lingered as she watched the city lights flicker outside: the past cannot be rewritten, but we can choose how we love the present and the people we have today.