Everyday Heroes: The Lives of Ordinary People

The High Street was noisy today, just like any spring day here in London when the city finally wakes up to that rare warm sunshine after a long, grey winter. The snow and grit that used to coat the pavement have melted away, leaving little streams of water glistening like silver ribbons down the cobbled lanes, past the old church on St.Johns Road. Even the church was bustling this morning. A tiny group of ladies stepped out of a minibus, all dressed in light summer dresses and matching scarves pastel blues, greens, whites the scarves almost halfcovering their faces. The men were in crisp suits, with ties and polished shoes.

From a smaller car, a woman in a neat coat got out, looking focused and a bit nervous.

Emily! Youre on your own, love! We should have waited, I could have given you a hand! her husband shouted, dashing around the car towards her.

Dont shout, Tom, Emily whispered. Billys asleep. Please dont make a scene. Im scared She was trembling. Shed never baptized a baby before this was her first time as a mum, and she worried little Billy might cry out like he did a week ago when they gave him a bath and he shrieked so loudly the neighbour called a doctor.

A calm, slightly stern paediatrician, DrMargaret Whitby, arrived. Shed been standing in the hallway, then walked into the room where a young mother cradled a squirming infant, coughing softly.

Put the baby down, Margaret instructed.

What? I cant hear you, Emily muttered, looking utterly dazed.

Lay him down, youre shaking him like a rattle! Youre going to knock the little bones loose! Margaret snapped, loud enough that Emilys husband winced.

Oh, God, Emily gasped, eyes wide, staring at Tom.

He gave a small grin.

Emily was still a girl at heart, but shed already given Tom a son their first child, their heir. Neither of them knew how to raise him.

Just put him down, love. Come on, dear, were a strong pair, arent we? the nursemidwife chimed in, chuckling. He looks just like his father!

Tom puffed up proudly. Thats right! My mother always said Id be a proper English bloke, he joked, rubbing his nose.

Little champ, Margaret continued, whats on your mind, dad? Close the window, keep the draft out of the baby!

Tom hurried to shut the window.

Doctor, whats wrong with him? Hes never acted like this before, Emily whispered, tears welling.

Whats a boy without a dummy? A girl wouldve been easier, dear! Tom teased, halflaughing, halfcrying. Dad, your father was a similar terror in his day, wasnt he?

Margaret, though trying to stay professional, let a smile slip. Hes got a full set of thoughts in that tiny head. Keep him warm, close the curtains, and make sure he doesnt catch a chill.

She examined Billy, gently rolling him, stretching his tiny legs, and soothing his clenched fists.

Colic, Margaret finally said. Ill write a note for you. And please, no more shaking, mum! Hell be fine, a strong lad. How about a pacifier?

Were absolutely against pacifiers! Tom stepped forward, looking resolute. Theyre pointless.

Against? Margaret raised an eyebrow. Emily right, give the baby back to his father and head to the kitchen. Swaddle him well, thatll be safer.

Emily shook her head, then, looking exhausted, handed Billy to Tom.

Right, love. Lets have a cuppa, Margaret said, laughing. Tea, tea! Nothing like a proper brew for a tired mum.

She took Emilys arm and led her away.

Tom, cradling his son, stayed by the window, trying to calm Billy.

The kitchen was cool, smelling of fresh coffee.

Got a kettle, got some sugar, lets brew a pot, maybe a biscuit or two Margaret surveyed the room, humming.

Emily set two mugs on the table. She didnt know the usual banter of a hospital ward, but she tried.

What do you mean usual? Margaret asked.

Emily shivered a little. I just Ive never been scolded, never been told what to do, just trying to do right by my baby. Being a doctor must be nice, you know, you can fix anything.

Margaret laughed. Books help, but nowadays everyone reads online. The problems are the same. Youre a responsible mum I see the thermometer in the bath, the clean bib, the tidy little boy. Have a cup of tea while you can, love.

Emilys eyes welled again. Im so tired. I want to sleep. Billy eats a lot, hates wet nappies, and Ive got no energy left I cant keep up with my exams, three more to go, and Im just Im breaking.

Margaret, thoughtful, asked, Any help at home? Family?

Emily sighed. My inlaws live far away, cant come. My parents didnt approve of us at first, then they liked Billy, but mum says its too soon, that we should have sorted our own lives first. I feel its all my fault.

Emily sipped her tea, eyes closed. Guilty? For having a son? For putting a few extra pounds on myself? Hes four kilos and six hundred grams, you know?

Margaret winked. Thats a lovely gift, dear. You should be proud, not ashamed.

She handed Emily a small note: Dont stress, eat, rest, keep him fed, and remember youll get through this.

Emily wolfed down a meatball, a slice of applespiced crumble, and promptly collapsed onto the small sofa, pulling a blanket over herself, too weak to even adjust it properly. She fell asleep right then, as if nothing else mattered.

It feels like it was just yesterday.

Now, Emily is in a cream dress with lowheelfs, holding Billy in her arms outside the little church hall on the corner. Todays the day hell be christened and shes a bundle of nerves.

Emily, come on, give him over, Tom coos, patting Billys chubby cheek. My sweet little lad!

Soon theyll step inside, the ceremony will happen, Billy will sniffle a couple of times, then his blue eyes will open wide, taking in the painted saints on the ceiling, looking amazed. The godmother, Emilys old school friend, will nod approvingly.

Billys a tough nut! shell whisper to Emily. Well done, you two!

DrMargaret Whitby will slip through the iron gates of the churchyard, crossing herself.

Shell spot a man in a flat cap and hoodie, looking a bit out of place, and say, Would you mind taking the cap off? Were in a church, after all.

He reluctantly pulls it down, revealing a patchy bald head. She shakes her head, thinking how traditions have changed.

Hes a good couple, lovely baby, Margaret comments, not approaching Emily directly.

The man mutters, Baptisms are just a fuss, the childs the real trouble.

Margaret sighs, You dont understand, love

Later, in the waiting room, the couples son, Sam, a grownup now, will reminisce about his own childhood how his own dad, Michael, once bragged about building houses, how hed laugh about fishing trips, and how hed once gotten a frantic call from the hospital about a newborn catching a serious infection. The panic, the endless paperwork, the sleepless nights all of it.

Michael, a designer turned microgreen enthusiast, will recall his own panic, What? I cant hear you! hell say, baffled by the doctors urgency.

The whole scene will be a chaotic mix of doctors, nurses, and a stubborn old friend named Ian, wholl argue about whos to blame for the babys illness. Ian will eventually storm out, slamming the door so hard the frame cracks.

Years later, Sam will be a teenager, sneaking out of school, and one day a stray dog will corner him. A calm hand will rest on his shoulder, saying, Stay still, itll go away. Sam will later tell his mum it was an angel looking after him.

Back at the church, Margaret will watch Emily and Tom carrying Billy to the baptismal font, feeling a warm glow. Shell fix her scarf, step back onto the bustling street, the sun sparkling on the nowclear river, everything fresh and ready for springs renewal.

The man whod reluctantly taken off his cap will head towards the registry office, where couples line up for weddings. Both he and Margaret will pause, watching the happy couples, thinking about love, family, and the strange ways life pushes us forward.

And that, my friend, is the story of ordinary folk, a small church, a nervous new mum, a helpful doctor, and a whole lot of English springtime chaos, all wrapped up in love, tea, and a few good laughs.