The Girl Sat on the Bed, Legs Tucked Under, Repeatedly Murmuring in Frustration:

Evelyn sits on the hospital bed, her knees drawn up, and repeats angrily, I dont want him. Im done with him. All I want is Andrew, and he says he doesnt want a child. So I dont want one either. Do what you like with him it makes no difference to me.

The child, dear, you cant just abandon your own baby. Even beasts dont act like that, says Mrs. Thompson, the ward sister.

Do I care what beasts do? Discharge me this instant or Ill make a mess of things here, Evelyn snarls, her voice shaking with fury.

You foolish girl, forgive me, Lord! Mrs. Thompson sighs, knowing that medicine can do little in this case.

A week ago they moved Evelyn from the maternity ward to the paediatric unit. She is a quarrelsome, highmaintained young woman who flatly refuses to breastfeed the infant, no matter how often they beg her. She will only express milk, but even that she cant manage because theres nowhere else for her to go.

Dr. Hannah, a brighteyed junior doctor, tries in vain to reason with Evelyn. The girl throws tantrums at every turn. When Hannah warns her that the babys health is at risk, Evelyn declares she will run away. Hannah, flustered, summons Mrs. Thompson, who spends a strained hour pleading with the irrational mother. Evelyn insists she must see her boyfriend, insisting he wont wait for her he will leave without her.

Mrs. Thompson refuses to give up; after many years she has seen enough mothers like this. She can keep Evelyn here for another three days, hoping the time will make her think twice. When Evelyn hears three days, she erupts.

Are you mad? Andrew is already angry with me because of this cursed baby, and youre now throwing me a bone. If I dont go south with him, hell take Katya away. She bursts into tears, shouting that everyone is stupid and doesnt understand that Katya is only waiting to snatch her boyfriend. She believes the child exists solely so she can persuade Andrew to marry her.

Mrs. Thompson sighs again, orders a dose of valerian, and heads for the door. The senior registrar, who has been silent, follows. In the corridor she pauses and asks quietly, Do you really think a child can thrive with a mother like that, if you can even call her a mother?

Sweetheart, Mrs. Thompson replies, what else can we do? Otherwise theyll send him to a baby home and then an orphanage. At least the families involved are respectable hers and his. Maybe we should talk to the parents? After all, this would be their first grandchild. And the lad is a handsome one. Find out the parents details; I need to speak with them.

That very day Evelyn flees. Mrs. Thompson phones the parents, but the young mans family refuses to speak. Two days later the father arrives a stern, unpleasant man. Mrs. Thompson tries to discuss the baby with him, offering to let him see the child.

The man replies that he isnt interested and says his daughter will write a refusal letter, which he will deliver via his driver. Mrs. Thompson tells him that wont do; the mother must sign herself they cant discharge her without it. She warns that everything must follow protocol or there will be trouble. The man stiffens, his bureaucratic fear shows, and he backs down, promising to send his wife to handle it.

The next day a small, pallid woman walks in, sits on the edge of a chair and starts sobbing, muttering about tragedy. She explains that the babys parents have whisked their son off to the continent; they are wealthy and have big plans, and now this unpleasant episode has unfolded. Her daughter cries all day, shouting that she hates the child. She first called the boys parents, now says she will travel abroad to fetch him. She vows to be with Andrew, even if the whole world erupts in anger. The womans wails fill the ward.

Mrs. Thompson sighs and asks to see the baby, hoping the grandmother might feel something. The grandmothers eyes light up at the sight of the infant, but she then weeps even harder, clutching a fresh handkerchief. She cries that the child is beautiful and she would love to take him, yet her husband forbids it and her daughter refuses.

Mrs. Thompson merely mutters Ah, dear, and orders a nurse to give the woman valerian, grumbling that such nonsense will soon empty the wards calming supplies.

She then reports to the chief consultant, explaining she intends to keep the infant in the unit for now. The chief, once a highly regarded paediatrician, smiles at the little boy, asks what hes being fed, calls him a proper little dumpling. The nickname sticks.

The boy, now called Dumpling, stays for months. Staff keep trying to persuade his mother to return. She visits frequently, playing with him, claiming she is saving money for a ticket once she discovers Andrews whereabouts. She has nothing else to do, so she keeps coming. It looks as if she is growing attached.

He also enjoys her visits, gradually recognising her. His grandmother also drops by, happily tending to the child, but always leaves in tears, apologising for her daughters madness, insisting the girl loves her boyfriend like a lunatic. Mrs. Thompson remarks that this is not love but lust.

Despite the visits, no one signs any paperwork, and the child remains unclaimed. Mrs. Thompson decides to have a serious talk with the mother and the grandmother about the babys deteriorating health. Everyone is anxious, and Dr. Hannah rushes to the bedside whenever she can. Dumplings hair is damp, his tiny curls cling to his forehead. He loses weight, becomes frail, and Hannah cradles him constantly, joking that hes no longer a dumpling but a pancake. Yet he regains weight, becoming the wards favourite again, giggling whenever Hannah shows him the coralcoloured beads she wears.

One day the idyll shatters. Evelyn learns that her boyfriend has married someone else. She flies into a rage, screaming that everything is a plot to keep them apart, that she loathes everyone, especially the baby. She believes that without the child she could be with Andrew and be happy. She decides to submit a refusal form, wanting the infant sent to an orphanage, then to travel to Andrew and persuade him to dump the child and marry her.

She hands the form to the chief consultant, places it on his desk, turns and walks away without a word. The chief summons Mrs. Thompson, who returns, darkeyed and angry, and says, Its done. Shes written the refusal. Well have to process the paperwork for the baby home. What can we do?

A junior registrar breaks into tears. Mrs. Thompson sits down, removes her spectacles and rubs them thoughtfully, murmuring to herself. Everyone knows that when the stern matron rubs her glasses, shes on edge. Occasionally, when emotions flood her, she even rubs her white coat against her face to hide tears, but she remains a strict professional.

Meanwhile, Dumpling delights in his cot. A nurse enters, and the baby squeals with joy at her presence. Suddenly he freezes, as if listening for something, then falls silent. The nurse, puzzled, checks on him; his bright eyes meet hers, and though she cannot name the feeling, tears roll down her cheeks. She later learns that his mother had just signed the refusal form, and the sudden sorrow overwhelms her. Mrs. Thompson snaps, Stop with the nonsense. No need for wild tales. She dismisses the superstitions, calling them childish stories.

Abandoned children always sense rejection, whether they feel it or angels whisper it to them. They try to become invisible, not to trouble anyone. It is as if they know the world will try to hide them away in dull institutions, and they must shrink into quiet shadows because no one needs you.

In this cold world, they hear no bedtime stories, feel no warm blankets, and the world pays them no heed. Yet a stray spark of hope remains: perhaps one day kindness will find them, however few the good deeds, and they will finally be seen.

Since that day Dumpling lies quietly in his cot, no longer playing, his eyes fixed solemnly on anyone who looks his way. Dr. Hannah tries to coax him, Dumpling, do you want a cuddle? Look, I have beadslets play. She reaches out, smiling, hoping he will grasp her hand, but he stares blankly, motionless, and she retreats, tears welling.

Finally, she erupts, Were betraying him! First those monsters, now us! He didnt choose to be born into this mess! She collapses onto the sofa, head in her hands, whimpering. Mrs. Thompson rises from her desk, sits beside her, and gently pats her shoulder.

Sweetheart, I dont know what to do. I feel sorry for Dumpling, you have no idea how sorry I am. Good heavens, what a job this is.

I wont just sit and wait; Ill act.

Then dont just sit, the matron snaps. If you keep moaning, youll soak my coat. Acting means it. And dont think youll get him. You have no chance of adopting. You live in a flat, no husband thats two reasons enough not to bother. How many Dumplings have I looked after in my career? Too many to count. So lets make a deal: well give you time, but you must find him a proper family. Good families.

Dr. Hannah throws herself into the search for Dumplings adoptive parents, her dedication infecting even the most jaded staff. At last she finds a couple: Laura and Leon, both in their thirties, childless after years of trying, now ready to adopt. Laura is gentle, with a soft smile and a lilting voice; Leon is tall, solid, a former army officer who dotes on his wife. Their home is bright and welcoming.

Mrs. Thompson meets them, eyes shining, and even lets out a soft whistle at Leons stature before apologising for her excitement. What was his birth weight, love? she asks.

Leon stammers, Im not sure Ill ask the midwife.

Laura laughs, Hell ask his mum a lot now, wont he?

The weight isnt needed for adoption, Mrs. Thompson clarifies. You just look like Dumplings family.

Laura pushes the door open, steps in, and sees Dumpling asleep, his tiny hands and feet curled, a single tear glistening on his cheek. He stirs, opens his eyes, and fixes his gaze on Laura. He frowns, then his eyes widen. Laura holds out a hand; the baby, surprisingly, clutches her thumb with a firm little grip. The staff laugh, commenting on his vigor, while Laura and the infant stare at each other, a silent bond forming.

A brief silence follows. Mrs. Thompson coughs softly, Lets call this first meeting to a close. Youll go home, think it over, decide.

Laura, without turning, replies, Weve already decided.

Mrs. Thompson raises an eyebrow, looks at Leon, who nods. Well, then, she says, youve chosen.

Laura smiles at Dumpling, pulls her hand closer, and the baby squeezes tighter, refusing to let go. The room holds its breath.

Ah, dear, Mrs. Thompson says, theyve got a strong grasp reflex at this age.

Laura answers calmly, Hes just scared Ill leave.

She looks tenderly at Dumpling, Please let me go now, I must leave, but Ill definitely return. You have to trust me.

Dumpling listens, then releases her thumb, bursts into a tiny grin, and lets out a highpitched squeal of delight.

Mrs. Thompson chuckles, Its just a reflex, Im sure, and hurriedly wipes her spectacles, muttering under her breath as she rubs her coat.

The ward settles back into its rhythm, the little boy now safe in the arms of a loving family, while the staff remember the chaotic days that led them here.