Dad, do you remember Mrs. Nadine Martin? It’s late today, but come see me tomorrow—I’ll introduce yo…

Dad, do you remember Margaret Beecham? Its late today, but come over tomorrow. Ill introduce you to my little brotheryour son, too. Thats all. Goodbye.

The boy was sleeping right outside her door. Mary was surprisedwhy would a child be sleeping in a strangers stairwell at such an early hour? She had been a teacher for ten years and couldnt just walk by. She bent over him, gently shaking his slender shoulder.

Hello, young man, wake up!

What? The boy scrambled to his feet, still half asleep.

Who are you? Why are you sleeping here?

I wasnt sleeping, not really Your doormat is quite soft. I just sat down and must have dozed off, he replied, embarrassed.

Mary had only lived in this block of flats for half a year, having bought her flat after divorcing her husband. She barely knew any of her neighbours, but it was clear this boy was from somewhere else.

He was perhaps ten or eleven, dressed in old but clean clothes. He shifted from foot to foot, barely standing still.

Mary realised he needed the lavatory. Go on, but hurryIm running late for work, she said, letting him in.

He looked at her warily, his eyes a striking pale blue.

Such an unusual colour, she thought, suddenly. While her young guest washed his hands, Mary quickly made him a ham sandwich.

Here, have something to eat.

Thank you! He was already by the door, smiling gratefully. Youve saved me. Now I can wait in peace.

Who are you waiting for? Mary asked.

Granny Doris Ashworth. She lives close by, maybe you know her?

I know Doris a little, but she was taken to hospital two days agoby ambulance. I saw when they carried her out as I returned from work.

What hospital is she in? The boys voice quivered.

Yesterday, it would have been St Marys in town, I imagine. Most likely shes there.

I see. And your name? he asked, mustering his courage.

Mary Johnson, she replied, already heading out the door. At school, Mary soon became swept up in work, but the blue-eyed boy stayed on her mind.

Perhaps its some dormant maternal instinct waking up, she sighed. Shed had no children, which was why her marriage had ended. Shed let her husband go quite calmly, especially since he soon had a daughter with another woman.

During her lunch break, Mary phoned the hospital. The news wasnt good: Doris had suffered a stroke, and at seventy-eight, her prospects were uncertain.

After work, Mary again spotted the boy in her buildings stairwell, perched by the window.

I was waiting for you, he said, his face lighting up. They wont let me see Grannyshell be in hospital for ages.

Mary asked his name, finally. He answered, Edwin. Edwin, not Eddie.

Clean and fed, Edwin submitted to a gentle interrogation.

Did you run away? Your parents must be worried.

I havent got parents. I stay with my aunt.

So your aunt is worried? Mary was concerned.

No. I told her Id gone to see Granny. She doesnt know Grannys in hospital. I dont want to go back. Shes kind, not a drinker, but her husband drinks every day and gets nasty. Theyve got four of their own childrensoon fiveand now me too.

They said theyd send me to a childrens home, but I dont want that. Im not much trouble, am I? Mum always said I was hyperactive, just like my father, and had these same light eyes. Shes been gone two years now.

And what was your mothers name?

Margaret Beecham. She was kind and beautiful. Worked as a secretary at a chemical factorycant remember the proper name.

And your father? Marys voice tightened.

There never was a father. Not ever, Edwin answered softly.

Suddenly, Mary understood why this meeting with the blue-eyed boy had unsettled her so. The eyes! The only other person she knew with those eyes was her own father.

And her father had been the director of a factory!

Marys heart raced: A romance between a director and his secretarywhat could be more ordinary? Did he know shed had his son? Did he notice when she disappeared?

And sheshed named her son after his fathershe must have truly loved him.

Mary was an only child, though as a girl shed often wished for a brother or sister.

Pop to the shop and get some breadjust across the road, she said, sending Edwin off with some coins.

Immediately, she rang her father.

Dad, do you remember Margaret Beecham? Its late now, but come see me tomorrow. Ill introduce you to your little sonmy brother. Thats all. Goodbye. The rest tomorrow. Mary hung up firmly.

Ive made up your bed on the sofa in the lounge, she told Edwin, returning bread in hand. Have a shower and get some sleep.

She didnt know how things would unfoldbut she knew she wouldnt let her brother be sent to those hopeless relatives, and certainly not to a childrens home.

Her father arrived early next morning. Normally, Mary enjoyed a long lie-in on weekends, but today shed hardly slept.

She adored her father. Hed always been present, helping her through every difficulty, unlike her mother, who considered herself of grander stock despite her farm childhood. It was her father whod encouraged Marys teaching ambitions and later helped her through divorce, even as her mother raged.

He arrived immaculate as ever, his trousers sharply pressed, shoes shining as though new, a hint of expensive cologne completing the picture of a prosperous, self-contained gentleman.

Sowhats this about a brother? I barely slept, worrying all night, he said as he entered.

Quietly, Dad, my guest is still asleep, Mary ushered him to the kitchen. Lets have breakfastyou must be starving.

Through breakfast, Mary recounted the story.

How curious! her father replied. Yes, I had a secretary, Margaret Beecham. Intelligent. Young and beautiful. She always looked at me so devotedly. Im an older chap, but a man all the samecouldnt resist the charm! Embarrassing to admit, but complete fidelity is rare, you know. She flattered me, and I enjoyed the attention. Im guilty, Mary, but I never meant to leave your mother.

Once, Margaret asked me, almost as a joke, if Id like a little boy. I replied I already had a daughter, and I was rather past the age for sons.

Then her mother fell ill, and Margaret took a long leave to care for her, returning home to her village. An older temp filled in. Margaret came back after about a yearlooked refreshed, almost glowing.

I teased her about whether shed married and had a little boy. She said yesa good husband, a son, renting a flat together. But legally her name was still Beecham.

They all live together these days, unmarried or otherwise. After that, it was strictly business between us.

Three years back, Margaret became ill. Was off work a long time, then suddenly passed away. I only found out because I signed off the condolence payment. Tragic, she was so young. But youre mistaken about a son, Mary. Her husband was listed as father.

At that moment, their guest stirred and, as a well-brought-up child should, poked his head into the kitchen to greet them. Her father paled. Side by side, the likeness was even more striking.

Lets introduce ourselves! he said, his voice trembling. Frederick Johnson.

Edwin Frederick Beecham, said Edwin, slipping his small hand into his fathers strong grasp.

Both raised their eyebrows in identical surprise.

I seem to have an abundance of Fredericks visiting today, Mary smiled, overwhelmed.

While Edwin went to wash up, Frederick the elder looked long and hard at his daughter.

I dont understand. Hes just like me at that age. Werent she married? Wasnt the boy another mans?

No, Dad. She never married. She left, so you wouldnt know about the baby. Check the records yourselfwhen was she really on maternity leave?

She invented the husband so you wouldnt feel guilty. You can tell she loved you dearly. Edwin insists hes never had a fatherever. Understand?

Wait, another odd thingMargaret was an only child, her mother died years ago. Where did this aunt and granny appear from? wondered Frederick.

Edwin, having overheard, answered from the doorway. You mean my mum? Auntie Val isnt really my auntjust a distant cousin. They moved to the city when Mum got sick. Granny Dorisshes Aunt Vals mother. After Mum died, Aunt Val took me in.

Where could I have gone? Had to leave the rented flat. They even get some money for having meUncle moans it isnt much.

And I remembered you, Frederick! Mum kept your photograph in a frame on the dressing table. I thought you were a famous actor once. Asked her who the gentleman was.

She said shed tell me when I was bigger.

Mary fed Edwin breakfast, then sent him off to a morning picture show at the cinema down the road.

So, Dad, do you really still doubt it? she asked.

Not really, but we ought to get a DNA test. The paperwork for parental rights will demand proof in court, her father replied.

After that came the hysterics, a supposed blood pressure episode, and an anxious heart scare from Fredericks wife, Evelyn. She calmed down soon enough and disappeared to the seaside for a while, only returning to meet Edwin much later.

Evelyn found Edwin pleasant enough over tea, but wanted no part in raising him, citing her nerves and fragile health.

I have a housekeeper, but shes not a nanny, Evelyn declared.

No one insisted. Frederick the elder, on the other hand, took real joy in spending time with his sonso alike in their shared aversion to porridge but mutual adoration for cats.

Alas, Evelyn was severely allergic, and Edwin, without a home of his own, had never kept a cat.

They spoke with the same shy lisp, just a touch. And by now, the family resemblance was stunning.

At length, the legal formalities were completedtwo long months. Frederick came to Marys, called Edwin to his side, and said:

From today, you are my son in the eyes of the law. Heres your new documentation. I want you to know, youve always been my son, I just didnt know it until now. I cant make you call me Dad, but call me what you like. Just know youre not alone anymore. Youve a protector and a familyme, your father, and Mary, your sister.

I knew straightaway you were my dad, when I first saw you, Edwin smiled.

My goodness, arent children quick these days, Frederick said, hugging his son tightly.

Mary saw the tears in her fathers eyes, but he quickly regained composure. Edwin stayed with Mary, visited Evelyn now and again, and his father came daily to see him. Then, Mary and Edwin adopted a kitten.

An old man at the supermarket gave away kittens for freeEdwin chose the runt and named him Whiskers. In that moment, Edwin felt he was the happiest boy in the world.

PS:
Frederick Johnson had a white marble headstone placed on Margarets grave.

He and Edwin often visited, bringing fresh flowers.

Once, when they came with flowers, Edwin said: You know, Dad, the day before Mum died, she told me not to cry too much. She wasnt really leaving, just crossing overshed still be watching me. And shed try to help me, even from there. I think shes the one who helped Mary find me, and you too! I just know it! Do you believe me, Dad?

Of course, said his father gently.