A Mother for Other People’s Children

Take the wheel, Anne! Maggie sighed, exhausted. Do whatever you like!

Yes, it feels like a fairytale, the girl replied with a bright grin, winking at her friend before slipping out of Maggies flat. The moment she settled into her car, Annes smile faded. She glanced at the rearview mirror, muttering, What luck Id rather be looking after four kids like you, Maggie!

On paper Anne seemed to have it all a respectable job, a decent car, a modest flat, a father who ran a successful import business. Yet nobody could imagine the emptiness that lingered behind her perpetual cheerfulness.

She longed for a child, a big, closeknit family, but that dream never materialised. By the time she turned thirtytwo, hope had abandoned her. She tried every remedy she could find folk cures, the latest medical treatments, even oriental practices all to no avail. No children.

Why is it so? she whispered to her pillow after yet another failed attempt, tears staining the fabric. It seemed cruel that some men and women, reckless with drink or drugs, could father five or six youngsters, while she remained barren.

Anne had long learned to hide the ache; she despised pity and gossip. Even Maggie knew little of this private torment.

I just want to live for myself, she would joke when the subject of children arose, only to break down in solitude later.

She had never been married. Her last relationship, with George, ended over their differing views on parenthood. Georges mantra was, Dont worry, live for yourself and be happy! Anne protested, I want to care for someone. If I cant have a baby in three years, Ill adopt. George recoiled. Children especially someone elses werent part of his plan. He cared more for Annes allowance and her fathers business.

Why take a child with a poor pedigree? Hell turn out foolish, just like his parents who drank and abandoned him! he argued. Anne retorted, Not every child is that way. Some lose parents; it can be checked. The quarrel grew, and within weeks they were apart, the chasm between their worldviews too great. Anne felt a strange relief when George collected his things from her flat.

Driving home from Maggies, Anne remembered the pantry was empty of eggs and she needed something for tea. Maybe Ill treat myself to a new handbag on the way, she mused, turning toward the shopping centre. She planned a brief stroll through the stores, a quick stop at the food hall on the ground floor, then home nothing else demanded her attention, and an empty flat didnt appeal.

After the bag she thought about shoes, then recalled a scene at Maggies: their neighbours daughter, Emily, had burst in asking her mother to buy a dress for the upcoming New Years party.

Emily, Im short of cash, her mother had said. Please, Mum! Everyone will be dressed up!

Sorry, love, I cant now, the mother replied. Annes heart clenched at the memory of Emilys crestfallen face, and she drifted toward the childrens department. She often bought small toys for Maggies kids, so she knew the size Emily needed.

Entering the aisle, a wave of melancholy washed over her. Once she imagined buying something for her own child in this very space, but now she barred herself from such daydreams.

She examined the dresses with earnest curiosity, scanning prices, imagining how a little girl would look in each, pondering colour and cut. A sudden argument drifted from a nearby row. A mans voice and a childs muffled pleas tangled together.

Dad, please, lets keep looking! I havent found what I want! the girl begged.

Were late, Lucy. I dont have time to hunt for a dress! the father snapped.

Please, Dad I really, really want it!

Lucy, weve been here half an hour. Davys waiting for us

The girls voice trembled with tears. Anne, compelled by an instinct she could not name, stepped forward and asked, What dress are you looking for?

The man turned, smiling at the stranger. He was not a shop employee. Since his wifes death three years earlier, Charles had been willing to accept any help, though he knew nothing about childrens clothing.

Lucy cared little for the strangers identity; she simply wanted the blue dress shed spotted with her friend. She and her mother had roamed the aisles together, but now the perfect skyblue frock with ruffles and a floral brooch eluded them.

She looked at Anne with hopeful eyes. Though she barely remembered her mother, Lucy knew she was better at picking outfits than her dad. By Lucys logic, if her mother could buy something lovely, this lady could too.

I need a blue dress, kneelength, with ruffles here, and a little flower brooch on the chest, Lucy rattled off in one breath, staring at Anne as if she already knew where it hung. Anne, without needing to search, led Lucy to the rack where the dress rested, beside the one shed intended for Emily.

Charles watched with amused surprise as his sevenyearold daughter trusted a stranger, then shook his head and followed them.

Anne and Lucy examined the dress; Lucys eyes sparkled. Thank you! Im Lucy, she said.

Anne introduced herself, winking at Charles, who visibly relaxed when the problem was solved. As Lucy slipped into the fitting room, Charles expressed genuine gratitude.

Thank you so much! I dont know what Id have done without you. Im Charles and you are?

Anne, she replied.

Are you buying for a child as well? he asked, scanning the area for any sign of a youngster. Anne shook her head.

No, Im alone and have no children.

Lucky me, I have two Emily and Davy, three years old. Davys already waiting for us, and the nanny has called three times already, Charles rambled, stealing glances at Anne. Thanks again! How can I repay you?

I dont need anything, Anne said, ready to leave. Yet Charles, clearly taken by her, asked tentatively, Would you like to meet for coffee tomorrow, just as a thankyou?

Anne hesitated. She had only recently ended things with George and wasnt ready for a new romance, but it was merely a cup of tea, nothing more.

Your wife? she asked.

She died three years ago, Charles replied simply.

I’m sorry, Anne murmured, feeling a pang of awkwardness.

Never mind. So, shall we meet tomorrow?

Yes, lets. They exchanged numbers and went their separate ways. Anne drove home, thinking of the new acquaintance. She hadnt intended to make plans; raising two children alone seemed daunting, and she sympathised with Charles, but she agreed out of curiosity, not pity.

The next morning, Anne was nearly dressed for an evening out when her phone rang. The display read Charles.

Hello Charles? she answered.

Yes, good morning, his voice sounded pleading. Im sorry, we cant meet at the café today.

What happened? Anne asked, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

Davys fallen ill, and Lucy has a performance later! We were picking out her dress for the concert. The nanny cant come, and Im torn I thought we could chat after the concert, but his doctor moved the appointment.

Without hesitation Anne asked, Do you need help?

Charles laughed uncertainly. He hadnt called for assistance but to warn her, and now felt a little flustered.

I dont know

Whats the problem? I have no children, but I often look after friends kids. I could stay with your son for a couple of hours. Whats wrong with him?

His temperature spiked last night, Charles admitted, relief evident in his voice.

Anne quickly changed into comfortable jeans, setting aside the dress shed almost put on. She knew the next few hours would be spent tending to a sick threeyearold, not sipping coffee, but she also recognised how hard it could be to ask for help.

She recalled Lucys determination the day before and understood how important the concert was for her. The fathers presence mattered doubly now.

She arrived at Charless modest house. He seemed a little embarrassed as she entered. Come in, the place is a bit messy, he said, gesturing toward the scattered toys.

No trouble, children are children, Anne replied with a smile, recalling similar scenes at Maggies flat.

Davys in there, already awake, so lets go meet him, Charles said, leading her toward the nursery.

Anne followed, feeling a strange trust in this almost stranger. Charles, despite his doubts about finding a partner with two kids, seemed relieved to leave his son in capable hands.

For the next three hours she tended to Davy: changing his compresses, offering water, brewing lemon tea, and finally reading him a short picture book. When Charles and a beaming Lucy returned, they found the flat quiet, Annes voice still echoing the story.

Charles slipped away, and the door was ajar; Anne, still seated, finished the tale oblivious to his return. She heard his footsteps, but chose to see the children through her own eyes.

Davy, eyes bright, asked sleepyly, Will you come again?

Anne, startled, glanced at Charles, saw the hope in his expression, and answered, Ill try, love. You wanted to show me your drawings, didnt you?

He nodded, his gaze softening. She gently patted his lightbrown head, rose, and headed for the door, already feeling that she could not simply walk away.

Anne, youve charmed him, Charles whispered as he stood in the hallway.

Yes, hes a wonderful boy. Its a shame the café didnt work out, Anne replied with a light chuckle.

Do you like children? he asked, the question hanging heavy for her.

She could not answer before Lucy burst out, smiling broadly.

Anne, I sang at the concert! Everyone clapped! The dress was brilliant! Everyone was jealous!

Lucy sang a soft tune from her performance, then Charles tucked her into bed, casting a lingering, wistful glance at Anne.

That evening, despite the chaos with the little boy, Anne felt an unexpected peace settle in her heart. Perhaps it was Davys wide eyes, or Lucys song, or the simple gratitude in Charless voice. She realised she would not simply walk away.

Should I call a taxi? Charles asked.

No need, I have my car, she replied.

And your mother? he inquired.

She passed three years ago in childbirth. Davy never knew her, and Lucy barely remembers.

I see I meant something else. How would you feel about a walk in the park once Davy recovers? I understand you have no one to look after your own children.

Charles stared at her, eyes soft, while Anne blushed and stumbled over her words.

Dont think Im imposing I could just leave I simply like you, and your children are wonderful.

Is that so? Charles said, surprised, then broke into a broad smile. Anne, lets meet! Id be delighted, and the kids adore you.

Anne flushed, said a hurried goodbye, and headed home. The night was late, and work still called.

She drove through the twilightfilled town, a faint smile on her lips. She knew nothing would be simple. Perhaps a relationship with Charles might never blossom, and she would not become a mother overnight, but for the first time in years her heart held quiet contentment, and a small, stubborn hope that things might, after all, turn out alright.