No Triumph Without Struggle

There is no joy without struggle

How could you get yourself into such a mess, you foolish girl? Whos going to want you now, with a child on the way? And how exactly do you think youll raise it? Dont expect my help. I already brought you up and now you think Ill take in your child as well? Youre not welcome here. Pack your things and leave my house!

Sarah stood in silence, her head bowed. The last hope shed had that Aunt Margaret might let her stay a while, at least until she found work melted before her eyes.

If only Mother were still alive.

Sarah had never known her father, and fifteen years before, her mother had been struck by a drunk driver on a zebra crossing. Orphaned, Sarah nearly ended up in the childrens home but then, out of the blue, a distant relative appeared, a cousin of her mother’s. Aunt Margaret had a steady job and a house of her own in the outskirts of a southern market town, so guardianship was arranged without any fuss.

Life with Aunt Margaret was never luxurious, but Sarah never went hungry. She was taught the value of a days work, tending the garden and the hens, the chores never-ending. Warmth and affection were scarce, but who cared for such things in those times?

Sarah worked hard at school and later on, gained a place at a teachers college. Her student days passed in the blink of an eye, and soon enough, exams behind her, she returned to the town shed come to call home but the homecoming was grim indeed.

Aunt Margaret, having let off steam, grew colder yet.

Thats all there is to it. Get out. I dont want to see you here any longer.

Aunt Margaret, please, may I just

No. Thats the end of it!

Sarah quietly took her suitcase and stepped out into the lane. She had never imagined her return going like this shunned, humiliated, and carrying a secret she no longer wished to hide.

She had to find somewhere to stay, but as she wandered the narrow lanes, lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the world around her.

It was a ripe southern summer. Orchards were heavy with apples and pears, golden plums glimmered in the hedgerows. The scent of ripening fruit and new bread drifted on the warm air, while bees hummed lazily on the breeze. Sarah grew thirsty in the heat and, spotting a cottage garden, called to a woman busy by an outdoor stove.

Could I have a drink of water, please?

Mary, a hearty woman in her fifties, turned with a questioning glance. Come on in, if youve no mischief in you.

She filled a mug from the kitchen jug and handed it over. Sarah sat down wearily on the bench, drinking slowly.

Would you mind if I just sat here for a bit? The heat’s a bit much.

Of course, love. Where have you come from? Only, youve got a suitcase with you.

Ive just finished at college. I want to start teaching, Sarah replied, eyes downcast. But Ive nowhere to stay. Do you by chance know anyone who lets out a room?

Mary looked her up and down. The girl was neat enough, but she wore a look of deep fatigue that sort of exhaustion born of worry.

If you like, you can stay here a while. Liven up the place a bit. I wont ask much for rent, just keep things tidy. If youre agreeable, Ill show you the room.

The prospect of a lodger was a pleasant one for Mary a bit of extra money never hurt, especially in a quiet place like this. Her son was far away and seldom visited; she would welcome the company on these long evenings.

Sarah, scarcely able to believe her luck, hurried after her new landlady. The room was small but cosy, looking out into the orchard. A table and two chairs, a narrow bed, and an old oak wardrobe it was more than enough. They quickly agreed on a price, and, after changing her dress, Sarah made her way to the Education Office.

So her days began to pass: work, home, work again. Before she knew it, another page of the calendar was gone.

Over time, Sarah and Mary grew close. Mary was a kindly soul, and very soon she came to care deeply for this modest, serious girl. Sarah helped out around the house and, as autumn crept slowly into the south, they would often sip tea together in the garden after dusk.

Sarahs pregnancy was an easy one. There was no sickness, only a soft roundness to her cheeks. She confided in Mary her tale was unremarkable, no different from dozens of other girls.

In her second year at college, Sarah had fallen for Charles, the charming, clever son of lecturers from the local university. His way ahead was laid out for him studies, graduate work, a career alongside his family. He was striking to look at, popular, and much admired, but he had chosen Sarah. Perhaps it was her shy smile or the steadfastness he saw in a girl familiar with lifes hardships? Or maybe, deep down, they were somehow alike. They spent their last years at college almost always together, and Sarah saw her whole future entwined with his.

The memory of that day was sharp. She awoke unable to stomach her breakfast, smells turned her away, and nausea clung to her. Most of all, she realised her period was late. How had she not noticed before? At midday she bought a test, returned to the student house, drank a glass of water and waited. Two lines. She stared, barely believing it two. Examinations were looming, and now this! What would Charles say; this was never in any of their plans.

Yet, a wave of tenderness for the tiny life within swept over her.

My little one, she whispered, laying a gentle hand against her stomach.

That evening Charles took her to see his parents. Sarah could still recall the humiliation. It was brief: his parents told her to have an abortion and, after graduation, go her own way Charles had a promising career ahead and she was not right for him.

What was spoken between father and son she never knew. The next day, Charles entered her room, left an envelope of money on the table, and walked out.

Sarah didnt consider abortion for an instant. She already loved the child inside her. It was hers alone. Still, she took the money, knowing she would need it soon enough.

On hearing Sarahs story, Mary comforted her, saying, It could be worse, dearie. Youre a brave girl for keeping your baby its a blessing, you know. Perhaps its all for the best.

The notion of ever reconciling with Charles was repulsive to Sarah. She could not forgive being discarded so easily.

Time went by. Sarah finished teaching, waddling like a duck as her due date drew near. She often wondered what the baby would be, but the midwife hadnt been able to tell. So long as it was healthy, she didnt mind.

One Saturday at the end of February, the pains began, and Mary hurried Sarah to the maternity ward. The birth was swift; a sturdy baby boy arrived into the world.

My darling Henry, Sarah whispered, stroking his round cheek.

In the ward, Sarah made friends with other new mothers. They told her that, just two days before, an army wife had given birth to a little girl. The parents werent properly married, just living together.

Her husband brought flowers, chocolates, even a bottle of whisky for the nurses turned up every day in his car. But something went wrong. She kept saying she didnt want children and after a day, she left a note and disappeared. She said she couldnt cope.

What about the baby?

Theyre feeding her from a bottle, but the nurse says shed do better with real milk, only all the mothers here have their own hands full.

Later, when the nurse brought the tiny girl in for feeding, she asked, Would anyone mind feeding her? Shes so frail.

Ill do it, the poor lamb, Sarah said softly, laying Henry in his cot and gathering the little babe up.

So tiny, and fair-haired! Ill call her Emily.

Compared to sturdy Henry, Emily was a little wisp.

Sarah nursed her and the child clung hungrily to her breast, falling asleep in moments.

Told you she was tired, sighed the nurse.

So it was that Sarah fed both babes.

Two days later, the nurse came to say that the girls father had arrived, wishing to thank the young woman whod been feeding his daughter. And thus Sarah met Captain Thomas White a short man, with the resolute blue eyes of a soldier.

What happened next was retold throughout the entire maternity hospital and soon, all over town. It became a story to be remembered.

On the day of their discharge, the staff, doctors and nurses gathered at the door. Parked before the steps stood a car, decked with blue and pink balloons. The young Captain, resplendent in his uniform, helped Sarah into the car, where Mary waited, and handed her first a blue bundle, then a pink one.

Under a chorus of cheers and well-wishes, the car rolled away and soon disappeared round the bend.

So it goes you never know where your choices will lead. Sarah gazed out of the window, clutching the two babes to her chest, while Mary smiled quietly at her side. The air inside was sweet with flowers and the scent of babies talc. Captain Thomas, who had earlier that very morning knelt by Sarahs bedside and asked for her hand and her heart, now drove in silence, glancing in the mirror as little Emily slept, her finger curled around Sarahs own.

At last they were going home to a sanctuary not just of walls and roof, but of love: tea and jam, an old oak wardrobe soon to be filled with children’s toys, and a life unimagined, a life already radiant with meaning.