“Why Did You Come Back? — The door barely cracked open as her mother scolded, ‘How can I face people…

“Why have you come back?” Her mother held the front door half open, her expression hard. “How am I supposed to show my face around here now? You’re not my daughter. The gossip only just stopped, your father and I haven’t dared go into the village shop for six months. What did you come for? Well?”

“Who is it, Helen?”

“Your eldest has come back.”

“Emma?”

Her father opened the heavy oak door so the hinges clanked. He looked Emma up and down, and she shrank under his gaze.

“Go where you want, just not here. I don’t want to see you. Look at you! And in that state as well.”

Emma stared at the ground, peeking out from her thick fringe, hope flickering in her eyes. She thought perhaps her parents’ hearts would soften. She had nowhere else to go. She’d lost her job when they found out she was pregnant, and she couldn’t pay for her little bedsit any longer. No work meant no money, and no money meant no roof over her head. No one cared to understand. She was scared.

Emma stepped down from the porch, pausing to support her belly.

“Don’t try to change my mind,” her mother said coldly, turning away.

Her father firmly shut the door.

Emma pressed her arms around herself to keep from crying. She forced the tears back. The baby squirmed anxiously inside her. So this was coming home…

The snow crunched under her boots, almost as if it shared her pain. Emma slipped out the garden gate, glancing back at the kitchen windows where the lights glowed behind drawn curtains.

Inside the village shop, warmth wrapped around her as she stepped in. It looked just the same. The counter ran down the right, with Mrs. Jenkins, the shopkeeper, behind it. On the left, glass-fronted cabinets and an old blue-painted cupboard drew the eye.

“Bread, please,” Emma carefully counted out her pound coins.

“Oh! Look who’s back!”

Emma didn’t meet her gaze, repeating quietly, “Just the bread, please.”

“Here, take it. Though it’s not really my business to judge, my job is to serve…”

Mrs. Jenkins handed over the loaf, then seemed about to add something more, but a young couple came in, letting cold air in with them.

Emma had left the village in a hurry, with her paperwork and just one small suitcase, and now she had returned with that same little case.

She tried to tuck the bread away, but the loaf was fresh and generous, sticking out from her bag as if begging to be eaten there and then.

Mrs. Jenkins started whispering to the couple, glancing at Emma, who made for the door as quickly as possible, determined not to hear a word.

Snow began falling again as she walked. The wind had dropped. She broke off a hunk of bread, closed her eyes, and chewed slowly. One less problem for the moment.

Behind the shop, she leaned against the rough brick wall, peeling off more pieces of bread, eyes pressed shut. The smell of the crust took her straight back to childhood, home, and happiness.

“Emma?” came a voice right in front of her.

She opened her eyes, startled.

“Hello,” Emma mumbled, lowering the bread as she recognised Mrs. Carter, Andrew’s nan.

“Why are you hiding back here?”

The old woman’s eyes took in Emma’s growing bump.

“I’ve nowhere to go. My parents turned me out.”

“And you couldn’t settle in… wherever you were?” The woman nodded towards the edge of the village.

Emma shrugged.

“Come along, then,” the old lady said simply, no more questions needed.

She set off, leaning on her stick.

Emma waited a heartbeat, then followed. She didnt think much at all, just that she was so deeply tired, her eyelids heavy.

Emma recognised the little cottage on the edge of the village. She and Andrew had run past it ages ago, out to their secret place in the fields. Once, Andrew had stopped by the gate, waving.

“Morning, nan! I’ll pop in tomorrow.”

“Hello,” Emma had nodded, not wanting to seem rude.

She’d only seen Andrew’s nan a handful of times, but she’d remembered Emma. How could she not, after everything that had happened? Now Emma longed to turn the clock back, to strip away the shame and feel carefree again, the taste of young love fresh on her lips…

…She’d never really understood why Nick, her quiet classmate, had taken notice of her in Year Eleven. He only ever shrugged when she asked: she wasnt a beauty, nor particularly outgoing, not even top of the class.

But she didn’t turn Nick down. It felt nice to be liked. Nick was thrilled, always carrying her bag, walking her home after school. Their friendship turned deeper, or so both of them thought. Talk of a wedding even began.

Both sets of parents were quietly pleased, though cautious.

“Let Nick finish his National Service, then well talk,” his father said.

But behind the scenes, they’d already started preparing.

It was meeting Andrew that changed everything, though Emma could never have predicted it.

It was a stifling May day. Emma was returning from the city after finding out about university admissions. Nick hadnt gone; he was helping out on the farm, so didnt meet her on her return. From the bus stop, it was a couple of miles to walk back to the village.

Emma got off and strolled along, clutching her shoes in her hand by then the bus had been like a furnace.

A dark cloud loomed behind her, the field ahead green and bright. Suddenly thunder cracked so close she clapped her hands over her head, heart pounding.

Turning around, she saw the rain sweeping quickly across the fields, drawing a clear line between dry and drenched. The downpour hurried towards her, the nearest shelter far away. She spun in indecision. Nowhere to run. Nothing but open meadow. Fat raindrops began drumming the dry road almost at her toes. Emma fished a plastic bag from her handbag, shoved her sandals inside and held it over her head.

The rain caught her, thick and powerful. At that moment, a hand closed on her arm.

She turned. A battered car waited by the roadside, the young driver pulling her towards the open door.

“Ive been honking and honking and you never even turned round,” he yelled over the roar of the rain. “Wow, its coming down hard you alright?”

Emma shrank back, uncertain.

He peeled off his t-shirt, flinging it in the back, then dug out a jumper. “Take this, don’t worry. Im from Ashfield, too. Dont you remember me? Im Johns son. Andrew.” He wrapped her in the jumper, moving so close she flushed scarlet.

“You’ll warm up soon. I had a jacket somewhere but its filthy… Did you just get off the bus?”

“Yeah…”

“I’ve been into town for tractor parts. Hey, stop shivering, youll catch your death,” he said, gently touching her shoulder now.

“Whats your name?”

“Emma.”

“Emma, then…”

“Why arent we driving?”

“Rains gone straight for the village, wed be soaked the whole way. Well wait.”

Emma nodded. He was right, after all, and shed made a fool of herself.

They got talking. Andrew worked at the farm with his father; his mum had passed away when he was a boy. He hadnt gone on to college, missed the deadlines, and decided to stay on the farm.

When he dropped her at her house, he smiled in farewell.

So did Emma.

Theyd spoken as though theyd known each other forever, not just an afternoon.

With Nick, Emma had never felt that spark, that warmth in conversation. His kisses or hugs never brought a rush of feeling.

Emma spent that evening in a thoughtful daze, unable to stop smiling.

Her mother noticed, but couldnt make sense of it. She asked, but Emma just smiled and said nothing. After that, every car passing down the lane made Emma look up, hoping it was Andrew.

She wanted to see him again, craved that feeling.

When Nick came over that evening, Emma couldn’t even meet his eyes. Bravely, she said it was time to part ways.

“Why?” Nick stammered, stunned.

“You’ll go off to National Service and I’ll be at university. Let’s part as friends, and if fate brings us back together, then we’ll see, maybe even get married,” she explained.

“No way. What, Ive waited for you since Year Eleven and now this?”

“Im sorry. Its for the best.”

She left him on the doorstep. Shed never seen him so angry; his glare made her shiver.

Nicks parents arrived the next day for a showdown. His mother yelled so long that Emma escaped out the gate and down the garden, then wandered the lanes and woods for hours.

Suddenly, she found herself by the road to the village.

“Emma! Emma!” Andrew waved from his car.

She froze, but then, unable to help herself, ran to him and stopped, breathless. He just stood there, looking at her.

“I thought it was you. Need a lift?”

“No, theres been an argument at home. I just walked out…”

“What happened?”

“I broke up with Nick… I keep thinking about you.”

“I know. So do I. Since that day I gave you a lift. I didnt come by because everyone said you and Nick were engaged.”

“Well not anymore.”

He bent closer, then kissed her softly, holding her tight.

They stayed like that for ages, believing everything would work out. Emma crept home late, switching off the kitchen light after her mother had gone to bed.

“What have you done, Emma? Three years you went with that boy, and now you just drop him? How could you?” her mother demanded.

“I love someone else. Truly,” Emma replied, finally standing up for herself.

Her father entered, face grim. “Ill sort this ‘true love’ out for you. Youre staying in now till your exams.”

But her parents couldnt keep her in. She met Andrew whenever she could, using their secret spot in the fields.

Eventually, the village saw them together and word got to Nick. He and Andrew fought, right by the riverbank where everyone could see. Two elderly ladies tutted in dismay. The rest just watched in silence.

Andrew stumbled backwards, and the ground simply vanished beneath him.

His father, rushing up the bank, barely had time to gasp before stripping off his boots and diving in after him.

“Emma, come on! Theyve had a fight by the river, Andrew fell in, and they reckon hes… gone,” shouted Zoe, one of Emma’s school friends.

Emma dropped her watering can and bolted after her. The bank was crowded.

“Theyve called an ambulance!” someone cried.

“Its too late. Now Nicks in trouble, probably…” murmured another.

Emma barely reached the river before the ambulance whisked Andrew away. His father had driven.

Emma’s legs turned to lead, and she collapsed onto the grass.

“Well? Happy now? Ones gone, and now my Nick will be sent away!” Nicks mother loomed over her, dabbing her eyes.

“No,” Emma whispered.

She went home and threw herself on her bed.

“What have you done?!” her mother stormed in. “Youve ruined everything! What now?!”

She raced out, slamming the door.

Emma hardly thought. She packed her bag, collected her paperwork, grabbed the little cash she had left, and slipped out through the garden. Within an hour she was on a bus to the city…

Mrs. Carter’s cottage was warm when they arrived, the sky outside already dark and fresh snow covering the ground.

“My legs start playing up before the weather changes,” Mrs. Carter muttered, lowering herself onto a bench by the fire and tugging off her boots.

“I’ll help,” Emma offered gently.

“No need. Ill turn idle if you do everything for me.” She nodded at Emmas rounded bump. “How long left?”

“Due in February.”

“So soon then Andrews?”

Emma met her gaze and nodded. “Yes.”

“Youre sure?”

“No doubt at all.”

“Very well then. Ill set up a bed for you, well see what can be done tomorrow.”

The cottage was small, two rooms and a kitchen. The familiar smell of baking filled the air Andrew had brought her some of his nans cakes once or twice.

Emma couldnt sleep, tossing until a ginger cat landed beside her and curled up against her bump. She tried to shoo it, but the cat wouldnt budge, so she drifted off at last.

She woke to the smell of yeasty dough.

“Do you want jam tarts or cheese pasties?” Mrs. Carter called.

“Jam please,” Emma replied from her spot by the fire.

“Never got your name properly, did I? Im Mary everyone calls me Nana Mary.”

“Thank you, Nana Mary,” Emma smiled.

“Youre due soon, arent you? Bet the baby comes early. Girls hardly ever stay put.”

“Why do you think its a girl?” Emma couldnt help asking.

“My old heart tells me so”

Sure enough, a week later just as Nana Mary guessed Emma went into labour early one morning. By midday, a baby girl had arrived.

“Thank you, Emma,” Nana Mary said, cradling the newborn with a wide grin.

“What for?” Emma, exhausted, asked softly.

“The truth. Shes Andrews girl. I knew from the moment I saw her. And look, the little toe on her left foot is just like his. Hell be pleased.”

“He? Who?”

“Who do you think, love? Andrew.”

“What do you mean?” Emma pushed herself up in bed.

“Hes alive didnt you know? Weak as a kitten, but alive,” Nana Mary hugged her gently.

Relief broke in a torrent of tears. “I have to see him. Please, Nana Mary, I can’t just lie here knowing hes so close. Is he in the village?”

“Of course, duck. At home. But you need to rest for your little girl’s sake. Youll need your strength, else your milk will dry up. Hes not running anywhere now and neither are you, by the looks of things!”

Emma laughed and wept all at once.

Not long after, Emma and her daughter returned to the village. Nana Mary went off for a while and then reappeared, Andrews father in tow.

“There now. Look Katherine! Doesnt that sound grand?”

He didnt look at Emma, but when he saw the baby, he melted and smiled.

“Shes registered under Andrews name?” he asked.

“Of course. Look at her toe, just like his,” Nana Mary beamed, uncovering the babys foot.

“Thank you, Emma. Thank you for my granddaughter. I havent told Andrew yet. Shall we go?”

“Yes. Im ready.”

“Oh and your parents have asked about you, Emma. Said theyd like to see you.”

“Not now, Nana Mary. Not yet.”

Emma stopped several times on the path to the door. Andrews father went in first, took off his shoes, lifted little Katherine into his arms and nodded towards the room.

Emma walked carefully in, legs trembling. She saw him lying by the window, phone in hand.

“Andrew,” she whispered, reaching for him.

He smiled, reaching back. Emma clung to him and at last all the tears spilled out.

“Well, Daddy, heres your daughter.”

“My what?” Andrew blinked.

“Your daughter, of course,” his father declared, grinning. “Katherine do you like it? Katherine Andrews?”

Nana Mary and Andrews father took the baby out to the kitchen, leaving Emma to sit down and breathe, finally at peace.

“I didnt know you were alive no one said a word. But now Im not going anywhere,” Emma told him.

“Dont. Im so happy to have you and my daughter beside me.”

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