I Choose You to Be My Mum

I Choose You to Be My Mum

Afternoon, are you headed towards Brighton? The woman pulled her car over at the layby near Reading.

Yes, I am, Victoria arched her eyebrows.

Her son had booked her a lift via BlaBlaCar, but Victoria hadn’t expected the driver to be a young woman.

But the woman stepped out, easily hefted Victorias suitcase into the boot, and asked where she’d prefer to sit. Victoria, liking the idea of watching the English countryside pass by, chose the front seat beside the driver. The road ahead was long almost all the way to Brighton so she’d have plenty of time to stretch out and rest later if she fancied.

I’m Emily, and you? introduced the driver cheerfully, looking to be around forty. Victoria herself had passed sixty.

Victoria Anne, but just Victoria will do. I must admit, it’s unusual to be chauffeured such a distance by a woman.

Well, that’s just it Im not technically chauffeuring. Im heading down myself, and it’s a bit dull on your own, plus it’s nice to have someone chip in for petrol. Ive done this trip plenty of times, there and back. It’s a popular route always someone needing a lift. Makes the drive much more pleasant.

Family in Brighton?

Me? Visiting Mum. You could say a bit of a holiday for the soul, said Emily, with a bright smile.

Im off to see my son. He moved to Brighton from here not long ago. I do miss him…

Its lovely when you meet a travel companion with whom conversation is easy. Victoria took an instant liking to Emily and knew the journey would pass by interestingly. She looked so at home behind the wheel, skilfully guiding the car, that it was hard not to admire. Dressed simply and tastefully: pale blue jeans, a loose light t-shirt, slender yet striking, large grey eyes, shapely brows, and her fair hair in a ponytail.

They got to chatting. Emily was married, two children, a caring husband. Only trouble was, his work in the Environment Agency meant they moved about every so often. So, they were often uprooting, starting again.

Victoria talked about her own son her heart heavy from how hed split up with his wife, the family breaking apart. That was why hed left Reading. He had two children, now with his ex.

Oh, life without kids is lonely, but with them, its never simple sighed Victoria.

They stopped at motorway services, had coffee, nipped to the loo, and within a few hours it felt as though they’d known each other for years. Its easy baring your soul to someone you may never meet again.

Victoria let slip how her sons eldest child wasnt his by blood his exs from a previous marriage but her son, soft-hearted, had adopted the boy. “If only he’d known things would end as they did… Now theres maintenance to pay.”

Should he really have taken that responsibility on? Victoria clapped her knees, glancing at Emily, whod gone quiet, Am I out of line? I do just worry for my son…

No, youre right, perhaps. A child is a serious responsibility, but if you take it on

Victoria fell silent. She didnt want to seem heartless. She sensed Emily didnt agree.

The miles slipped by, the woods beyond the window spinning by in a lush, almost enchanted whirl. Then, as if wanting to explain her own reserve, Emily began to share something very personal, almost apologetic.

My mum isnt my birth mum, you know. She took me in from the childrens home. Or maybe… I chose her? To this day, its hard to say, we still tease about it Emily smiled.

Really? How extraordinary. Will you tell me your story?

Absolutely. Well, the journeys long

Emily began.

The doctors told my mum, Susan, before she was thirty, that shed never have children of her own. She and her husband Nigel tried to adopt. Before me, theyd fostered a little girl, Olivia. She was three.

Olivias own mum had lost her rights and been in prison. When she got out, she set off to reclaim Olivia. After five years in their home, she was sent back. Susans biggest regret is that they hadnt adopted Olivia straight off money worries, mostly. Losing her hit Mum so hard, she ended up in hospital with a breakdown. But Dad I only know him from stories, he died before I can remember was a good, gentle soul. Ive always called him Dad, though he wasnt by blood.

So youre Emily Nigelson? Victoria half-joked.

No, its all far less straightforward! Im Emily Alexandra, though my real fathers David. See, Mums husband Nigel died before she met me. She was left utterly alone, grief crashing down, loneliness setting in. When Olivia was taken away, Mum became close friends with the ladies from Social Services. Needed to keep an eye on Olivia. Thats how she met Mrs Margaret Brooks, who ran the childrens home. Mum ended up working there perks, a good team, better than her last job at the old school…

They hit a traffic jam and paused to take stock. Emilys story was only just beginning.

Emily recounted things as her mum Susan had told her the kind of memories you never truly lose.

***

The children in the home were difficult. Mum could never forget her first day shed tried to hug a boy and caught a toy car to the head for her trouble. These were damaged children; pain gave them sharp edges, and mistakes werent rare.

After three years, shed learned to cope. The kids grew attached, shed grown fond of them, but strictness was essential. Couldnt have run the place without it.

I was the new girl, collected from hospital by Mum and the caretaker. Not her first time bringing a child from foster care or the local hospital. By the time I was ready to leave, all the papers were sorted. No going back.

Mum remembered: it was December, the city drowning in wet, grey slush. The depression weighed heavy all she wanted was to wrap herself in a blanket and hide. She was forty-two, a widow with no children. She thought it didnt matter much, apart from missing Olivia. But in truth, she longed for a child. Her heart ached for it.

They came for me usual duty. Mum confessed she regretted not bringing a pair of wellies for me; who knew what state my shoes would be in. The wait for my release papers was long. She sorted the paperwork, delaying meeting me. When she entered the ward, she saw me quietly sitting on a bed, staring at the floor.

Emily, someones here for you, said the nurse.

I looked up with flat, hopeless eyes. Mum Susan knew the look all these kids waited for their real mum to return. Id just turned six.

She bent down to me.

Emily, Im Susan. Youll come with me to a new house. Youll like it theres children to befriend.

I asked,

What about Mum?

My birth mum died in a car accident. Id been in the car but escaped with a broken arm and bruises. In hospital, after a stint in the foster system there was no family willing to take me in. My gran didnt want me. Id never met my dad. Mum was a single parent, wed lived in rented rooms. Theyd tried to explain that Mum was gone, but my childs heart clung to hope.

Shes always with you, people said to me, but I couldnt make sense of it.

Mum Susan said I was slight, bony, curled against her like a little bird in the car, my grey eyes peering out from under my hat. She held me close… My coat and boots were all right decent, even. But my fate was to live in a childrens home.

Mum felt her heart going soft. The snow seemed less miserable, December less bleak. She told herself not to get attached, but her heart argued otherwise. Maybe shed already decided then, looking back.

We arrived. The childrens home looked a lot like a nursery: flowerbeds, a playground, happy boisterous children. It had its share of problems, but sponsors and the council supported them, especially back before the local authority cuts.

Staff needed those contacts it made finding homes for the older kids easier, their greatest worry.

I kept to myself, never bonded with anyone else. But each time Susan came near, Id light up, following her everywhere, always seeking her out. Everyone noticed. Mrs Brooks, our elderly head, nudged her along.

Well, Susan, I can see Emilys yours. What do you think? School next year, too.

Ill apply for guardianship, Marge, replied Mum.

She loved me, simple as that. Life was lonely, and this seemed right. She worried the application might be refused. Mrs Brooks reassured her.

Itll be fine. Ill write you a glowing reference! And Claire, from the authority,ll help, wont she?

Claire was a mutual friend, head of social services, and things rolled on quickly. The authorities supported us. I had no family coming forward.

It seemed settled. They told me, though they shouldnt have. Susan said, Now Im your mum. Youll come home with me. And I did the legal stuff wasnt done, the court hadnt ruled, but she took me home nonetheless.

Emily finished this bit rather sadly, carefully overtaking a slow lorry.

Thats not where things ended, surely? Did something happen? Victoria was gripped by the tale.

Oh yes. It all changed at the last moment. The court date got cancelled, everything unravelled just days before.

Why?

They wouldnt let Mum adopt me, Emily gripped the steering wheel.

How come? Even with friends in the authority the head herself?

All true. But even Claire couldnt fight the person who suddenly showed an interest. Well, not a who, so much as a what. My birth father, a retired county councillor David Samson. Older than my late mum, married, decent family man, a Labour loyalist and not one to rock the boat.

My mum was probably a secret affair, maybe thats why Grandma never wanted to claim me. Strange, all of it. Looking back, Mum always drove her own car, which was rare for a woman then probably thanks to Samson.

Makes sense.

Apparently, he only learned of Mums death by chance. Decided he had to do something about his illegitimate daughter me. My middle name, Alexandra, is from my mothers father. She didnt want to expose David Samson, I suppose.

So you hadnt met him before?

Never. Not that I remembered. He had no legal claim over me, but his position gave him the upper hand.

I was rushed back to the home, everyone in a flap scrubbing everything spotless. An inspection was coming. Lunchtime was delayed for a special meal, even the crockery was brought out for the visitors.

They dressed me in a fluffy white dress. All the children were told to look their best. Then two dark cars pulled up outside. We pressed our noses to the windows.

The thing is, I was oblivious no idea the fuss was about me. Just that Mum Susan looked sad, and that Id slept in the dormitory again. But I didnt mind thought as long as Mum was near, it would be all right.

Susan knelt beside me, hands on my shoulders:

Im so sorry, Emily. I cant take you home to be your mum. But youll get a good family theyre lovely, I promise, she could hardly get the words out.

Mrs Brooks whisked me to the office. I looked around, hoping to spot Susan. But shed gone. Everyone in the room was a stranger.

A big man, smartly dressed, bent down to me. My own father.

I knew your real mum, my dear. Im sorry. But this lady here will be your mother now, and this is your new father, and he gestured to a thin, anxious-looking woman with sad eyes, already teary. I felt not the slightest connection; she was utterly foreign to me, and I hated the prospect.

I ran.

Emily let out a slow, heavy sigh. It hurt to remember.

I see, Emily, nodded Victoria, gently giving her space, So your father decided to find you proper parents, rather than claim you himself.

Emily nodded, a little embarrassed.

If its too painful, you dont have to go on…

No, I want to. I think about it all the time, how strange people can be. He knew I was his daughter, he wanted to do the right thing, but he was too cautious to claim me.

Still, he tried to help, in his own way.

I suppose… Later, I found out everything from Susan and from Mrs Brooks. David made inquiries. Susan lived in a shabby terrace, by herself, on a tiny teachers pension. Not good enough for his daughter. So he chose a couple in London money, comfort, everything he thought I should have.

That first day, I bolted as soon as they left the room. They had to chase me halfway down the corridor. I wanted Susan, no one else. I hit, shouted, until they called Susan in only she could calm me down.

Off I went with my new family. Susan had to make me get in the car. I thought shed come too, but she stayed. The ride was a blur sobbing, pleading for Susan, crying myself to sleep. The only thought in my head: I must go back.

My would-be new mother was called Elizabeth. She tried, I suppose, but I made life hell. Pulled the cloth off the table, nudged cups so theyd smash, wet myself deliberately in the street, anything to get sent back.

They carted me around doctors and counsellors. Course they did so many problems. I misbehaved, shrieked, ran wild, did anything so theyd give up. Eventually, I overheard Elizabeth crying; she and her husband were planning to return me. I started acting worse.

Once, I ran off in a shop. They found me straightaway, but not long after, David Samson himself turned up. He persuaded Elizabeth and her husband to send me back.

All the way to the childrens home, he scolded, tutting and fretting. He said I was just like my mother clever, stubborn. He was right, of course. When he said I was heading back to the home, I kissed his hands in thanks, pleading with my eyes for him not to change his mind.

He saw through me in the end.

You little fox! Just like your mum. I can see youre no fool. You didnt want new parents, thats all. Shame, really could have been such a good life, he shook his head, such a good life…

Back at the home, I ran down the hallway, Mrs Brooks waiting. Susan, it turned out, was in hospital again for the second time, her chance at a child taken from her.

We all went, Mr Samson, Mrs Brooks, and me, to see her. I clung to Susan in tears:

I choose you to be my mum! You! Dont let them take me away again.

And so, I stayed with Susan. Who chose whom? Did she pick me, or I her?

And your father, David Samson? Did he help after that?

He died when I was thirteen. But… Actually, the cottage in Brighton were heading to now he bought that for Susan, just to make sure I wouldnt live in hardship. Im grateful for that, and for giving me back to Mum.

Emily gave a deep, contented sigh, glancing at Victoria, her eyes full of a glowing fondness.

Mums seventy-five now, lives alone, so I make the trip as often as I can. She waits for me. Lovely home, a garden, little patch of veg. Shes the best mum in the world! Not everyone gets the chance to choose, but fate let me. And it was the best choice I ever made.

Victoria watched Emilys lovely profile as she focused on the road. Yes, she truly loved that woman the one shed chosen as her mother.

Emily glanced back, smiled, and put her foot down a little she was eager to get home.

The lesson I take from that day? Family is less about blood than it is about choice, loyalty and love. You dont always get to choose but when you can, choose with your heart, and never look back.