The Forsaken DollShe lingered in the attic, clutching the cracked porcelain, waiting for the night when its whispered lullaby would finally summon the missing child back home.

Edith Green slipped into the flat where her son Sam and his family lived, heart humming with a joyous excitement that had lain dormant for years. What marvel and surprise she would spark with her sudden entrancemore precisely, with the little treasure she carried for her beloved granddaughter, dear little Ethel. In her hands she cradled a halfmetrelong box, its pink satin ribbon crossed in a neat bow that fluttered like a flag.

Edith had spared no effort, no strength, no time, no penny for this present. She had launched a whole covert operation. She travelled to York, to a craftsman who specialised in the restoration of antique dolls, and, with her own deft fingers, stitched a tiny blue dress and a lace cap for the doll. She added a felt coat, a pair of sheepskin boots, a knitted scarf with a matching hat, delicate lace ruffles with a tiny bodice, and even a second dress patterned with tiny white peas. Everything was made by her own hands. This was the very doll she herself had received as a birthday gift in the late 1950s, when she was a modest eightyearold girl from a poor family. It had been the only beautiful toy she ever owned, and the memory of it still brought a rush of joy to her mind. Edith resolved to breathe new life into it, for modern dolls, in her view, were soulless, stiff, often with grotesque faces, whereas this one still held a spark of humanity.

Goodness, murmured her daughterinlaw, Martha, eyes widening, where on earth did you dig up this rarity?

This was my very first and only doll, Edith replied, unaware of Marthas puzzlement. I drove to my sisters cottage in the village to collect it; it had been left in the old family house. All our children were boys, so there was no one to look after it after me. It lay for years in a box with a broken leg I wept countless times when that leg snapped! Time has changed it, but look nowlike new, even better. The restorer worked wonders!

Grandma, let me have it! Ethel sprang forward, her tiny feet pattering on the worn carpet while the adults examined the doll.

Do you like it? Edith asked.

Its beautiful what a dress I want one just like it! the fiveyearold declared.

Shall I stitch one for you so youll have almost identical ones? offered Edith.

Mother, who now wears such blatantly retro outfits? interjected Sam, trying to keep a straight face.

Quiet, dear, I want it, I want it! Ethel gushed, eyes alight.

It shall be yours, my little pearl, it shall be yours, Edith promised. By the way, her name is Natasha.

Beee, the girl protested, thats a terrible name! Shell be called Ill call her Chelsea!

But love, thats a name for a dog! Edith chided.

No, Chelsea, like the cartoon character! Ethel stamped her foot, smoothing the dolls cheek. The newly christened Chelseas blue eyes flickered open, a startling sapphire gleam. Did you see that?

Martha, unlike the sceptical daughterinlaw, expressed genuine admiration. I had almost the same one as a childsoft, stuffed body. What a charm! Ethel, may I hold it for a moment?

Reluctantly, Ethel passed the doll to her other grandmother, who inspected it with a reverent smile.

What a beauty! Look at that rosy complexion and those bright eyes! Such an open, moving gaze! The clothes are stitched so neatly; I remember having exactly the same blue dress in my youth! Martha exclaimed.

I crafted the patterns myself, using the old Sovietera patterns, Edith explained, a faint blush colouring her cheeks like rubies.

What? You made everything yourself? The dress, the coat, the accessories? Remarkable workmanship! Oh, dear Edith, what a craftswoman you are! I never knew you sewed, Martha gasped.

My husband, Arthur, chuckles and strokes his wheatcoloured moustache, added the patriarch, a grin spreading across his face.

Unaccustomed to such attention, Edith waved her hands, the crimson spots on her cheeks matching the dolls own blush.

Marthas eyes reignited with the same twinkle of wonder shed felt in her own youth. Shall we see what this doll can do? Come now, Natashaer, ChelseaLord help us

Martha pressed a finger to the dolls tummy, and it let out a childlike electronic cry: Mummum!

The parents exchanged an ironic glance and a restrained smile. Tears wellled in Ediths eyes, nostalgia for her own childhood flooding her. Martha croaked a vague hmm, and her face broke into an almost childlike grin, pure as fresh water.

Ethel clapped her hands, reaching for the doll. Give it back, Grandma!

Hold on a moment, Martha replied, setting the doll on the floor and singing softly, Tap, tap, tap goes the little one Look, shes walking! The dolls tiny limbs swayed.

Mother, Sam stammered, I dont think modern children find this that astonishing

You know many things, Sam. As a child I would have given my soul for a doll like thatperhaps even a kilo of boiled turnips, if you can imagine! It wasnt just a toy, it was a dream, not something for todays world. Edith, youre wonderful! Martha concluded, handing the doll back to Ethel. The best gift today came from you!

Ah, thank you, Edith murmured, moving toward the table. Her gaze drifted to Ethel, who was peering under the dress for a missing button. Mama! Mama! the dolls tiny voice kept repeating.

Ethel, darling, please dont take the button apart to see how it works, alright? Weve restored that too, Edith advised Martha, everything had fallen into disrepair with age.

Martha thought politely about how the elderly always pull out old treasures only to fuss over the bits and pieces.

Ethel, did you hear Grandma? she asked her daughter.

Yes, Ethel whispered.

The adults fell into their own small talk, raising the first toast to the birthday girl. Ethel flitted between the table and new toys, eyes glued to the cartoons on the television. The nowundressed doll lay on the floor, and beside it a cat settled, gently licking the dolls neatly arranged hair. Edith, seated by the window, missed the scene entirely; the others had forgotten the doll for a spell.

Wheres our older grandson, Andrew? Edith suddenly asked.

Hes out with his friends, Sam replied. He finds his own amusements at that age.

Did you even wish the birthday girl?

I did, Sam said, I lifted her by the ears five timesonce for each yearand then, still wailing, I handed her a set of crayons and a colouring book.

Good heavens, you cant pull a childs ears! Martha exclaimed.

It was only a joke, the daughterinlaw replied, recalling old grievances. When my older sister used to tug my braids, you never seemed to mind.

The fatherinlaw set down his glass, rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, chuckled heehee, and rested his hand on his wifes arm.

No more quarrelling. You fought, you didnt love each other, but I tried to keep the peace, Martha complained to Edith, she says everyone beat her, tormented her. Our father never raised a hand, but I could only swat with a towel!

No, we were beaten, I remember. Olive was the favourite, and I, the daughterinlaw protested.

Remember the good, not the invented tales! How much we gave you, ungrateful child! Martha snapped. We bought you a flat, paid for your college, supported you until you were twentytwo! Olive earned her own money and bought her own home; we only helped.

The daughterinlaw pursed her lips, ready to retort, but Edith, sensing the tension, changed the subject with a lighthearted anecdote.

Did I tell you I now have a parrot? she said. Imagine, I stepped out onto the balcony this morning and there it was, perched on the cupboard door, saying Hello, beautiful!

Everyone, except the stillsulking daughterinlaw, burst into laughter. The fatherinlaw guessed it must belong to the neighbour.

I asked everyone who opened their doors, and no one knew! Aunt Martha, our neighbour down the lane, gave me her old cage; the bird had once lived with a finch. We named him Petrovich. Hes a handsome, redgold fellow, a bit small for his cage, but a charming fellow.

Suddenly Ediths face twisted into a horrified grimace. She pointed toward the table.

Oh, what are you doing, my pearl! she shrieked, toppling the table, You must notstop! Put those crayons away this instant!

Ethel lifted her innocent eyes, clutching Chelsea in one hand and a bright red crayon in the other, which she had used to add a dab of colour to the dolls cheeks.

Stop it! Sam lunged, snatching the crayon. Why would you ruin the doll? Grandma will weep, and Chelsea will be upset!

Martha shook her head, glancing at Edith, whose face was as somber as if at a funeral.

The little girl burst into tears, flinging the doll aside and running to her mother. Sam lifted the doll, his expression full of remorse.

Perhaps it can be washed? he asked.

Try it in the sink with soap, but dont soak the hair, Martha suggested, leaning toward Martha (the other grandmother) and squeezing her hand in sympathy. A spoiled child doesnt value anything; theyre all like that now. Dont be sad, Edith. Its just a toy

Its not just a toy, Edith whispered softly. Ill step out for a moment and help Sam.

Sam returned first, followed shortly by Edith, who now cradled the doll as if it were a living thing. The room fell silent, guilty eyes watching her lift the blue dress from the floor, seat the doll on the settee, and smooth the crayon streaks from its cheeks. She brushed the dolls hair and smiled at her granddaughter.

Come here, Ethel. I have something to tell you. Walk over, dont be afraid, Grandma wont scold you, she said, seating the child on her knee while the blueeyed doll rested on the other.

When I was a little girl, just a bit older than you, I had almost no toys or new clothing. I wore handmedowns from my older sistersthere were three of them. We had an older brother, Colin, who worked on the farm before being called up to the army. We were poor; Mother barely managed on her own after Father died when I was not yet a year old. On birthdays Mother could only buy us a bun for sixpencethat was the size of a present. As the youngest, I got whatever was left over, but I never resented it; I understood our circumstances. Mother did all she could, and from the age of five I helped her with chores, even feeding the geese.

During Colins second year in the army, times were especially hard. One spring the village shop received a shipment of toys, among them a stunningly beautiful doll. We girls ran to the shop just to admire it! No one bought it; it was far too expensive. We named it Natasha.

Edith paused, her eyes fixing on the doll. Ethel leaned in, breath held.

What happened next?

Colin returned the day before my birthday; I was turning eight. Mother baked a cherrytree cake and a strawberry one, invited friends Suddenly a gang of girls burst into the yard shouting, Edith! Edith! Your brother bought you a Natasha! How lucky you are! Let us play with her, please! I stood frozencould this really be? Id never owned a new toy, let alone a doll! It seemed a dream, a prank perhaps.

Then Colin appeared, hiding something behind his back. He beamed, kissed my cheeks and said, Happy birthday, my dear sister! Heres a little gift for you, lovely girl. May you always be pretty, obedient, and sweet. He handed me a box containing the doll.

I could barely believe my eyes. I was jealous of my own luck! He whispered, When I saw her, I knew she was yoursone face for both of us!

How many joys that doll brought me! I sewed her clothes, fed her, taught her to read, slept with her One day a boy broke her leg on the street, yet I kept her until I was fourteen. Every night she lay beside me, guarding my sleep, humming songs, sharing our secret jokes. When I finally stored her away in a box, Natasha remained forever in my heart.

Lord, Martha sighed, tears spilling over her husbands shoulder.

Edith looked around at the gathered family, her recollections carrying her far beyond the present moment, forgetting everyone but the doll and her granddaughter. Even the daughterinlaws lips trembled, a wet streak forming under her eye.

Now, my dear, this doll is yoursrestored, renewed, as good as new. You may do with it as you wish; I wont mind. Its yours, Edith declared.

Ethel clutched the doll tightly, rocking gently, then pressed the dolls head against her own blouse. Grandma, Ill never hurt Natasha again. Shell be my most beloved, truly. She deserves itAnd as the gentle clink of teacups mingled with soft chuckles, the family lingered together, their hearts warmed by the resurrected doll and the lasting bond of generations.