Made in Wirral: Free Creative Writing and Arts Workshops for Adult Beginners

 

Chance Meeting

By Jackie Breen

 

Leaves crunched underfoot and trees shivered under a heavy winter sky. The mould of rotting vegetation hung heavy in the air and a single robin warbled a cheery tune. The overgrown winding path took me to the small cottage deep in the woods. The thatched roof had sunken in parts like the face of an old woman and pictures of people and pets long gone were silhouetted in broken windows.

Pushing a straying lock of greying hair under my woolly hat, I stood as my memories took me back forty-four years to 1956 and my eighteenth birthday. I wiped a tear as it ran silently down my cheek, it was the day my grandmother told me it was time to leave. The drive to Prospect House in Hoylake was silent, my heart knowing it would be the last time I would see my grandparents. There were no goodbyes, just a swift drop off and then I was on my own.

My grandparents were now long dead and the cottage was mine but I never had the heart or the will to move back. I often walked through the woods and watched the steady decline of the cottage but never ventured inside.

I stared as the daylight faded, gosh it’s four o-clock, it’ll be dark soon, I thought, but I didn’t walk away, instead I walked over to the cottage. Placing my hand on the door, I gave it a shove but it was stuck fast. I pushed with both hands, the door flew open and I fell to the floor. Lifting myself up, the feeling I was being watched washed over me. My fingers frantically searched for my torch but my pocket was empty. I groaned as I got down on my hands and knees, feeling around the floor. Moving slowly forward, I stopped as a beam of light blinded me.

“Shine that the other way, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, sounding braver than I felt.

The beam of light slowly moved and there in front of me were two children, a boy and a girl. Their eyes glared at me with a defiance you get from a frightened animal. I could see, by the white streaks on their dirty faces, that they had been crying.

“Are you lost, where are your parents?” Silence was all I received.                                                          “Alright, if you are not going to speak, I’ll have my torch back and ask you to leave, you are trespassing,” I admonished as I reached for my torch. The boy put it behind his back. I jumped as a bundle of rags on the floor moved.

Sensing my fear he took hold of my hand, “it’s okay, it’s our mam she’s not very well and we’ve nowhere to live,” he said pulling the grubby blanket back.

She looked as though she’d not eaten for a month, her eyes were like two bottomless pits and her skin was almost transparent.

“She needs a doctor,” I said.

“No!” Both children exclaimed.

“Look, she’s very sick. She needs help,” I pleaded.

The little girl sobbed as her brother stood defiantly in front of me saying, “if you try to take her away, I’ll kick you.”

I knelt down and took hold of their mother’s hand, it was cold but very clammy. I need to be cruel here, I thought. “Okay, if you want your mum to die, that’s up to you. Just give me back my torch and I’ll leave you be.”                                                                                                                                                                         The little girl flopped down at the side of her mother.

“Please don’t die mam, I love you and it’s nearly Christmas.”

“They’ll put us in care,” said the boy.

“Where’s your dad?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” he replied.

“Let me call an ambulance and I promise to take you home with me.”

The boy eyed me suspiciously then, bending down, he whispered to his mam. “Okay, but if you break your promise…” he said.

“I know,” I interrupted, “you’ll kick me.”

Quickly dialling 999, I explained the situation and an ambulance was summoned.

I sat on the floor next to the children.

“We could be here a while; my name is Pauline.”

“I’m Jimmy, she’s Becky,” he answered, holding out a grubby hand.                                                                     I spotted a rucksack between them. “Is that yours Jimmy? It looks a bit heavy.”

“Well, I suppose, but it’s mam’s really. It’s got important papers and, if anything happens, they’re for us.”

“Do you mind if I have a look?” I asked, reaching out. “It might help when the ambulance arrives.”                 

“Ooh! I’m not sure missus,” the boy replied, grabbing at the rucksack, “you see they’re private.” He stood up, standing up to his full height of about four foot ten inches.

“Okay,” I replied.

We sat in silence for a while, then Jimmy slid the rucksack towards me. “Don’t suppose it matters, mam’s sick and we need help. There’s a big brown envelope, it says private, but I’ll let you look.”

“Thank you.”

Just then the cottage lit up with blue flashing lights and two paramedics walked in through the door.

Once underway we raced along roads and swerved around corners. The paramedic gave me back the envelope as we arrived at Arrowe Park Hospital and told me to give the information to reception. The children and I watched as their mam was rushed through the doors to be attended to.                    

“Right, let’s go and sort this out,” I said, waving the envelope in the air.                                                          We waited patiently and before long it was our turn to speak to the receptionist.

“Hello, can I have the patients name?”                       

“I don’t know, the children are Becky and Jimmy. Oh, hang on, this might help,” I said as I pulled out what looked like a birth certificate.                                                                                                                                    

“Are you no relation then?”

“No,” I replied, “I was out for a walk and came across them.”

“Then I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave.” 

“What about the children?”

“I’ll have to call social services.”

“Oh no, you can’t do that. I mean, I promised and I think I’m her mother.”

“What do you mean, you think you’re her mother? We can’t just let these children go with perfect strangers.”

I thrust the birth certificate at the receptionist, turned and walked towards the children.

“They’re not putting us in care, you promised. I hate you,” Jimmy shouted, as he grabbed Becky’s hand and ran.

“Are you satisfied?” I asked the receptionist.

“It’s procedure.”

“Procedure my foot, it’s an easy solution. Read the certificate, and my bus pass,” I bellowed as I raced after the children.

Outside, in the hospital grounds, I was frantic as I searched and shouted. “Are you alright?” a man asked and I quickly turned and came face to face with a security guard.

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” I replied.

“Mind what?” he asked, backing away.

“I’m sorry, I have just found my daughter after forty-four years.” I took hold of his arm, “it’s a long story, my grandchildren have run off.”                     

“So, you think they might still be in the grounds?”

“Yes.”

“Call their names and hopefully they’ll recognise your voice.”

“Jimmy, please come out. You must be hungry; I know Becky is, she told me before you ran off.”

Becky was the first to appear, followed reluctantly by Jimmy.

“You okay now?” asked the security man as his phone buzzed, “yes, they’re standing in front of me, okay, will do.”

“Thank you and goodbye,” I said.

“Sorry but I have to ask you to come back into the hospital Mrs?”                                                              “Pauline, Pauline Hughes and I’m not married.” I took hold of the children’s hands and we followed the security man.

Hours later, sitting in the police car as it journeyed its way back to my house in Townsend Street, I was content. Knowing the formalities had been put in place, I put my arms around my newly found grandchildren and my heart was full of love. The feeling of apprehension melted and I inwardly looked forward to the future and the joy of getting to know the daughter I was forced to give away all those years ago. My retirement didn’t look so daunting now as we fast approached Christmas and a new millennium.