Oh, have you seen, ladies, the woman in our ward? She’s already an old lady… — Yes, completely grey. She must have grandkids, and everything’s the same — the baby demanded, at her age…

Hey love, have you seen the older woman in our ward? She looks really frail

Yeah, shes almost grey. Must have grandchildren, but stillshes there because the babys coming early, at her age

My mum looks younger than she does, honestly. I wonder how old her husband is.

Shes quiet, a bit sullen. Doesnt talk to anyone.

Thats probably why she keeps to herself. We all try to be friendly, but I cant even remember what to call her. I think they call her Agnes.

Maybe we should use her full name and surname

The conversation in the maternity ward got lively just as one of the expectant mums stepped out for a moment.

Agness life has been tough. When little Emily was four, the whole family came down with typhoid. Her mum, dad, a oneyearold brother and even her grandfather didnt make it. From then on, Emily was raised by her grandmother, Margaret, a stern, ironfisted woman who never showed affection.

Fast forward to 1941: Emily and Tom were both thirteen. They lived in different hamlets, but both moved to the town centre to work at the steelworks there was a shortage of hands. The factory had a small block of workers cottages, and thats where they met. From those early years they laboured side by side with the older lads.

When Tom turned fifteen he tried to enlist, but the army turned him down. We need you here more than on the front, they said, people like you are hard to find. So he stayed, and Emily, fieryredhaired and full of spirit, kept him company.

At eighteen they got married no grand ceremony, just a quiet promise. The postwar years were bleak, not exactly a time for celebrations. Margaret, disapproving as ever, sent Emily to live with Tom. Their farms were about thirty miles apart, so they settled somewhere in between.

A year later their son William was born. The young couple were over the moon, and for a while everything seemed perfect. Theyd endured enough hardship to deserve a slice of happiness, even if it was brief.

Six years on, William turned six. Emily and Tom still lived handinhand, the envy of the whole village. Tom worked as a stovemaker; his furnaces were famous all round the dale.

One winter they were asked to install a new stove in the neighbouring village across the river. Tom took little William with him because Emily was at work. It was a biting cold day, and they were crossing the frozen river on foot. Tom lugged a heavy toolbox he never trusted anyone elses tools. William was darting about, ignoring Toms pleas to stay close. With just twenty metres left to the bank, the ice gave way and the boy slipped into a snowfilled ripple. Tom lunged to pull him out, but

Agnes had gone grey when she was twentyfive, after losing both her husband and son. She couldnt bear to stay in a house that reminded her of them, so she returned to her native village and lived with Margaret again.

Emily shut herself off completely; life lost its colour. She never even thought about starting a new family.

Now Agnes is fortythree. At her age, single and with a baby on the way, Emily decided to be brave. She knew the road ahead would be hard, but the thought of being alone scared her more than any future trouble.

The village where Emily lived is pretty remote, getting there isnt easy. The weather was fierce, and fearing help might be delayed, she arrived at the hospital early, worrying constantly about the little ones health shes not that young any more.

From the moment she walked the sterile corridors that morning, Emily felt halflost. Eighteen years ago shed lost the love of her life and her son. Time hasnt healed that ache.

Emily became a mother again, naming the healthy boy David. She always remembered how William used to dream of a brother.

Buy me a little brother, hed say. Dad makes so many toys! Ill play with my brother.

What will you name him? their father would ask.

David! William would shout.

Then itll be David, Victor laughed, exchanging a grin with Emily.

At that point Emily held onto hope. Victor knew exactly what it meant. For a while they kept Williams memory quiet. When both her husband and son died, Emilys grief was overwhelming.

Now, finally, David is here just as William had imagined.

Grandma Margaret wasnt thrilled when she first saw Emily coming back from the hospital with a newborn.

Why are you crying again, my dear? Emily cooed, soothing her son.

Oh, you its embarrassing, love, Margaret muttered, her voice creaky. The whole village will have a field day about your scandal.

I havent shown my face in a week. Theyll start questioning everything. What will I tell them? That my old granddaughter has lost her mind?

The gossip in the village went on for ages. Nothing rattles a rural community more than a thirtythreeyearold spinster with a newborn.

Margaret kept on nagging, but after a year she, surprisingly spry for her age, passed away peacefully.

Emily mourned, even though Margaret had raised her after all.

David grew up to be a striking young man tall, darkhaired, with hazel eyes, nothing like his mother, and he adored her fiercely.

When Emily turned seventy, David learned that his sister had been born. He and his mother rushed to the hospital, where his wife, Susan, was waiting on the first floor.

Susan, Susan! he shouted, overjoyed. Show us the baby!

Susan walked to the window, cradling the little girl. Emily beamed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Look, Mum! Shes a redhead, just like you! David laughed. Seeing his mothers happiness made Agness old heart swell. Her little boy had grown, and there was nothing left to fear.

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