Borrowed Happiness Anna was toiling away in her garden; spring had arrived early this year—only the…

Borrowed Happiness

Anne was busy in her garden; spring had come early this year, even though it was only the end of March and all the snow had already melted. She knew the cold would return, but for now, the sun coaxed her outdoors, and she fancied mending her fallen fence and patching up the old wood shed.

She thought, perhaps it was time to get some hens or maybe a piglet, and perhaps adopt a dog and a cat as well.

Thats enough, she chuckled at herself, youve had your fun.

She longed to dig over the vegetable patch, to breathe in the familiar scent of earthlike when she was a childkick off her wellies and run barefoot over the freshly turned soil, her toes sinking into the warm, soft ground.

Well keep on living, yet, Anne said aloud to no one in particular.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Excuse me, called a timid girl at the gatea teenager, really, still just a child. She wore a grey college coat that Anne recognised straightawayone of those cheap ones they give out at the local techand shoes that were nearly worn through, with thin nylon tights quite unsuited for the still-cold weather.

Too early to be out in those, Anne thought, shell catch her death. Those shoes are hopelesscardboard soles, rubbish really, she noted in a glance.

The girl fidgeted, shifting her thin legs from side to side.

Good afternoon, Anne said brusquely.

Sorrymay I use your loo? the girl mumbled shyly.

Oh! Yes, of course. Straight ahead and then just around the corner.

Anne watched her dash away, a flush of intrigue flickering in her eyes.

Thank you, youve saved me, the girl gushed upon her return. Im looking for a place to stay… You arent letting a room, are you?

No plans to, and why do you need one? Anne raised an eyebrow.

I want to rent a room. I dont want to live at the hosteltoo much drinking and smoking, lads everywhere.

Oh? How much can you pay?

Five pounds. Thats all I have.

Come inside, lets talk, Anne motioned.

Actually can I visit the loo again, please?

Go on then.

Whats your name? Anne asked as she brought the girl into the house.

Emily, she squeaked like a mouse.

Emily, then. Why are you really here? Anne locked eyes with her.

I I wanted a room

Dont fib, Emily. Why have you come?

Another plea for the toilet, tears streaming down now.

Anne followed her.

You keep needing the looare you alright, dear?

It stings. I cant help it, the girl sobbed.

All right, well look into it. Now, tell me why youve come.

Emily hesitated, summoning courage.

Well? If youre here to rob me, youll find nothing worth stealing. Who sent you?

No one, she whispered, I came alone. Are Are you Mrs Anne Watson?

I am, Anne replied.

You didnt recognise me Mum? Its me, Emily. Your daughter.

Anne sat ramrod straight, her weather-beaten face unmoving. But her voice cracked, Emily my daughter Emmie

Yes, Mum. Its me. In the home, they never gave out your address, wouldnt you believe, said it wasnt allowed. But I talked my teacher into helpingMiss Sarah Turner, shes wonderfulshe found your full name and somehow we found the address So here I am, Mum.

Anne sat motionless, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Emmie my darling girl

Mummy, mummy! Emily flung herself into Annes arms, sobbing, I looked for you everywhere. I wrote letters but they laughed and said youd left me like an old coat But I believed in you, Mum, I did!

Anne hugged her daughter, her tough hands clasping Emily, her girl, her child, her little Emmie

They sat together, saying nothing. It was all understood.

Later, Anne made up the fire, brewed fennel tea, and nursed Emily back to health with all the remedies her own mother and grandmother had taught her. Emilyher purpose, her meaning. There was reason yet to live; it wasnt all lost. She found her daughter when she had almost given up hope, stashing away what little money she had, ready to leave this world, when in walked Emmie

***

Mum

Yes, love?

Mum

What is it, you sweet thing?

Emily nibbled at a homemade scone as her cheeks rounded outMum had dressed her up beautifully, almost as if she grew younger herself.

Mum, I think Im in love.

Well I never!

Yes! Hes lovely, Mum. His names JackHe wants to meet you

I Im not sure, Anne replied, feeling the twinge of an ending approaching. She thought, happiness is fleeting; whats given, can be taken away.

Mum, are you alright?

Im fine, love. Youve grown up so fastI hardly had time to cherish you. Forgive me, Emmie.

Oh Mum, dont ever say that. Well give you grandchildren, Jack and I. You know I love you more than anyone. I searched for you for so long! My dearest, kindest Mum.

Their meeting went wellJack was local, a practical and thoughtful chap. Anne thought, a good lad, worth trusting.

Times were toughsome starved, while others fed their pets better than people. But Anne, Emily, and Jack managedthey were never in want. Annes factory had closed, but she found work at a co-op, good pay there, and she dressed Emily and Jack in the best she could find.

Jack was always busy: built a sturdy new fence, helped redo the lower timbers of the cottage with his brothers, mended the shed for the pig. The house now sang with life, especially after Emilythe clever, beautiful girlhad come home.

Annes heart thawed and warmed. She wanted to live three times as much nowto make the most of the days, to redeem the shadowy past that at times still haunted her dreams.

Mum, are you in pain?

No, love, just tired. Come, lie down beside me.

My little girl, my darling, my heart overflows with love, Anne would think, squeezing Emily tight, grateful for a mothers love shed never believed shed know. A blessing, at long last.

Soon came a wedding at homeEmily and Jack stayed with Anne, who blossomed with joy. Even at work, everyone noticed Anne Watsons stern face now glowed with gentle smiles.

I think a grandchilds on the way, she whispered giddily to the others at the co-op.

Mrs Watsons daughter is so happy, shes blessed, her friends would say.

And then a grandson was born! Little Henry, named after Annes own motheralways strict, but fair. Such a lovely baby! Anne bragged, I never thought Id hold another.

After so many years, she held her grandchildand happiness thudded in her chest.

Every thought now ran to Henryhandsome and clever, and always snuggled up with Granny.

Jack built a bigger house at the edge of the village, a place with plenty of room for Annethey couldnt imagine a life without her. Jack and his brothers started a building firm, opened a shop, living quietly but well.

More newsa granddaughter was born! For Lucy Anne, Anne sewed tiny dresses and knitted bonnets by the dozen. The house rang with childrens laughter, day after day.

Life was good. Still, Anne sometimes felt her chest burna deep ache she kept to herself.

Mum, my dearest Mum, why didnt you tell me you were ill? Where does it hurt?

Its nothing, sweetheart, nothing at all

***

Theres nothing we can do. Im sorry.

But Doctorshes my mother

I know, Im sorry.

***

Emmie, my dear my time has come. Forgive me; Ive lived longer than I deserved. You saved me when you knocked on my door, remember?

Mum, dont say that

I have to tell you, dearest, oh, dont interrupt me, its hard to speak Im not your real mother, Emmie. Forgive me

Mum! Dont ever say thatnot to anyone. Youre my mother. I dont care what anyone says, youre my mum, always.

Alright, love In the drawer, there’s my diary. Forgive me, Emily. I love you.

And I love you too, Mum Mum Mum

***

Emily, have something to eat

I will, Jack. Just give me a minute.

Emily lingered in her mothers room, the diary open in her lap. There was Annes whole lifescrawled in blunt, uneven lines: tough, messy, sad and joyful.

A strict mother, a father lost to the war, a wild youth spent following the wrong sort, and a harsh adulthood that brought only loneliness. AnneAnne, Annie-flower.

She fell in love with a rogue, courted risk and excitement. He vanishedprison, likely. With her, she lost everything: even her chance to keep a child, her femininity stolen by a winter illness as shed once helped her lover escape the law.

No child, no kittensnothing remained but the home her mother left, and gradually, she settled, softened a little.

Doctors offered little hope, the days were uncertain. She prayed in church, begged forgiveness. Then, unexpectedly, she was sent a giftEmily.

She thought shed try to be a mother for just a while, to learn what it felt like

Emily, her darling, her lifes light. She never believed shed live so long. Happiness, she wrote in third-person, like anyone, I live and work. My daughter, my soul, my heart.

Shed been terrified at firstwhat if Emily learned she wasnt her real mum? A mistake at the orphanage perhaps, their only connection a shared name. But the fear faded. She learnt to live like anyone else. At last, she believed she deserved it.

Forgive me, darling, for stealing you from your other mother. This is my borrowed happiness.

Mum, Emily sobbed, my dearest Mum, I hope you hear me. I knew I almost always knew. When I stayed here, someone at the council told me the details didnt matchthey even gave me my birth mothers name. I found her, just to know.

She didnt want me. Married, busy with her family. She was scared people would find out. Stuffed some money in my hand. I left straightaway, and afterwards I was illremember the fever, Mum? But I am grateful every day that God sent me to you. I looked for you for so long. You are my mother.

Its funny, isnt it? Maybe it wasnt even a mistake at allperhaps were sent where were needed most. Now I have to learn to live without you, Mum…

Emily, Emmie

Let her grieve, Jack. Shes buried her mum, after all

***

Grandma, was Granny Anne a good woman?

The kindest, darling.

And pretty?

The prettiest, Annie.

Who gave her that name?

I dont knowher mum, or her dad, perhaps.

Like you named me after her?

Yes, your dad loved his grandmother very much.

Can she see me?

Of course she can. Shes always watching over you.

I love you, Great-Granny Annie, the girl whispered, setting a crown of daisies on the headstone.

We love you too, darling, whispered the silver birch, and the wind carried the words away.

Life has a way of sending us the family we need, not always the family we expect. Sometimes happiness comes borrowed, or by mistake, and sometimes its the greatest gift of all.