The Winds of Change
Shes lost her mind, Charlie! Your wifes completely lost it!
Mum
Dont you Mum me! Youve already got three children! Why on earth would you want anotherand not even your own? Who knows what sort of blood runs in that family! What if shes ill? Then what, youll neglect your own and devote yourselves to someone elses child? What are you thinking? Why do you need this? Who is she, anyway?
She.
What?
Shes a girl. Marianne.
I couldnt care less what her name is! I forbid it! I will never accept her or even want to know about her, is that clear?!
I heard you.
Charlie hurled his mobile onto the desk, his fist thumping the pile of paperwork sprawled before him. Just splendidwhat a way to ruin his day. Who told him to ring his mother now of all times? Then again, its better like this than later, when everyones home and the blow of his mothers disappointment would sweep away any joy left in the evening. Lizzie would get upset, the children, so sharp to their mothers mood, would inevitably start wailing. No, much better to get over all this, let it settle now. Still somehow, he had to tell Lizzie his mother was dead set against this child
His secretary poked her head round the door. Seeing her boss standing at the window with his back turned, she gently knocked against the frame.
Mr Bennetteveryones gathered. Just waiting on you.
Charlie nodded. Time to get back. The project was a nightmare, endless fuss and details, but worth every bit. He loved what he did, even if to outsiders it might all seem a game, like a great chess matchmove after move, guessing the opponents plan, calculating the next play, adjusting tactics. If only marriage were so simple that you might judge in advance how those you wish to share your life with will react to any given move. In his work he could more or less forecast what tomorrow, a month, or even a year might bring, risk and opportunity weighed and accounted for, winds of change or not. But in his personal life? Never. It all boiled down to a string of accidents that changed everything, forever, no matter how much he tried to control it.
It began back at school, when, after another punishing bout of tonsillitis, ten-year-old Charlie returned to his classroom to see his usual spot claimed by a gawky, bespectacled girl with skinny plaits.
Oi! Thats my seat! Charlie, never one for tact, wasted no time reclaiming his territory.
To his surprise, the girl simply nodded, gathered her things, and moved to the back. But within minutes, the teacher returned her to the front beside Charlie, giving him a disappointed look.
Charlie! Is that how we treat girls? Lizzie will be sitting with you now. Her eyesights poor, she wont see a thing from the back.
Charlie sulked, grumbling about pushy new kids who wormed their way in where they werent wanted. Yet Lizzie said not a word; she simply sat, unpacked her books, and listened closely to the lesson.
All that lesson, Charlie shifted and nudged, trying to annoy his new desk-mate. He drew a line with his pencil, pushed Lizzies elbow away when it strayed over, and spread his own elbows wide, hogging as much space as possible. At last, when his elbow drifted clear past the border, Lizzie just shuffled a little closer to the edge and shot him a mildly reproachful look.
Why arent you saying anything? Youre just going to dangle on the edge like that, are you? Charlie scowled.
A confused look in Lizzies eyes gave way to a mysterious glee, and she whispered, Youre ever so funny!
Heaven help herCharlie flushed with anger. How dare she! Princess, is it? Hed show her. No more of that!
What didnt he try after that? The frog in her satchel, which Lizzie calmly transferred to the classroom tank after permission. The pins left on her chair, brushed off each day without fuss. The leaky pen hed wedged among her notebooksfinally, her lips trembled then, struggling not to cry. The homework from the night before had been long and tricky, now ruinedand shed to copy it all out fresh on spare paper offered by the teacher. Head held high, Charlie pulled a face as he left, glorying in his victory as Lizzie rewrote her homework.
And then, something unexpected happenedthe more Charlie teased, the more Lizzie laughed at him.
Will you ever give it up? she giggled, fishing a limp cockroach out of her bag, No pointif you like me, just say so!
Charlie nearly choked. Like her? That tall girl, all glasses and threadbare ribbons, a head taller than him? The cheek of her!
Later, when they reminisced, Lizzie would rest her head on Charlies shoulder, teasing: Its true what they say, if a boy tugs your plaits hes in love. Youd been pining for me since year three.
I couldnt stand you!
Oh, Ill believe that! Lizzie would laugh, hugging her husband, Go on, tell the children you didnt fall at my feet right away, but dont overdo it. Let them believe. Loves useful in life, you know.
Charlie only noticed Lizzie properly in Sixth Form. By then, he was so used to herhis confidante, partner, the one he never worried with about tests or homework. Lizzie, brainy and effortlessly quick, would work her own and Charlies exam papers at once, sliding her rough notes within easy reach. And Charlie, in return, was crystal cleartouch her plaits and you answer to me.
Those skinny plaits disappeared in Sixth Form, swapped for a fashionable short cut. The ugly duckling abruptly blossomed into something so striking, Charlie was left breathless, retreating to the far end of the desk himself.
Whats wrong with you? Lizzie frowned, and Charlie had no clue how to tell her just how beautiful she looked.
It took all the nerve he could musterright up to their leaving party. Lizzie, well aware how the wind was blowing, kept silent, sensing there are times when you mustnt make the first move. They remained close, though something unspoken now hovered between them: anxiety, excitement, the beginnings of change.
At dawn, when their classmates cheered the sunrise, Charlie finally took Lizzie by the hand. Lizzie didnt pull away. Instead, threading her fingers into his, she whispered,
I love you too
They waited four more years before marryingyears of dashing through lectures, endless notes, brief meetings and plotting the future.
Ill sort my career and then well have kids.
How many?
Not sure. At least two. Maybe five! No, six! Three boys, three girls. What say you?
Lizzieyoure mad!
Thats me. But youll back me, wont you? Is it too many?
Always. Six, ten, makes no odds! Only
What?
Ill have to get my business moving faster, or what will we feed them on?
Youll manage! I trust you completely.
Of course, Lizzie didnt leave it to Charlie alone. She took her time choosing her profession, ending up an excellent accountant.
Thank goodness Mum taught me to keep count, said Lizzie, fingers skimming the abacus with effortless rhythm.
Why not use the calculator? Charlie laughed, watching her.
Pressing buttons is slow. This, for me, is quicker.
He watched, amazed, as she balanced the books, never a mistakeno calculator needed. She was a whiz with computers too, but the old abacus kept pride of place on her desk.
Im old-fashioned and fussyget used to it!
Charlie would have put up with anything. When Lizzie was by his side, he felt like a hero of legendcapable of anything. She believed in him fiercely, and soon enough, he believed in himself too. With plenty of bruises and missteps, he built his company, one that didnt just build houses, but real homes, places people longed to live. Business bloomed, and after a few years of marriage, Lizzie was finally ready to chase her biggest dream.
I can work from home now. Theres enough business. What do you think, Charlieshall we?
Their first son was born a year later. Then things stalled for a whileLizzie endured countless treatments, desperate to conceive again. At last, their middle daughter arrived, and soon after, another little girl, with cornflower blue eyes and wild, dark curls, which Lizzie refused sternly to cut at her first birthday, much to the disapproval of Charlies mother.
Its tradition, Lizzie! Margaret pursed her lips, reluctantly handing the child back. We always cut their hair at one. You wouldnt allow it for any of the children. Why?
Im not superstitious, Lizzie smiled, tying ribbons in her middle daughters hair, whothough not so thickly curledhad plenty.
Its a shame! You ought to heed the wisdom of the elders. These things are never for nothing.
Perhaps. But I prefer real wisdom, not old wives talesespecially with children. Otherwise it all grows absurd. We havent pinned up any safety pins on their nappies, have we? With a gentle glance at Margaret, she nodded towards the playroom, Would you play with Alfie and Sophie? Ill settle Maisie for her nap and lay the table. Charlie will be home soon with my parents and then well eat.
Margaret would head to the playroom, and later sit at table, frowning at all the laughter between the children and Lizzies father, while her own small criticisms went ignored or merely met with polite smiles by Lizzies parents, Roger and Dorothy. The whole atmosphere irked herit all seemed too easy, too relaxed. No solemnity, no boundaries. She felt out of place, unsure of the rules. Hadnt she always been taught that the young should be silent and respectful in their elders presence? It wounded Margaret deeply that Charlie and Lizzie never sought her opinion, content to chart their own path, while Lizzies parents only exchanged knowing glances and gentle smiles. She could not comprehend how a child could spill gravy over the tablecloth and not face a single rebukejust be brought closer and told,
Thats not quite right! Lets try togetherthere, perfect!
And if the gravy was spilled again, everyone, even Lizzie (whod be washing that tablecloth later) would only laugh. How could one live amongst such chaos?
Margaret wandered about their spacious house, shaking her head. In her eyes, Lizzie was a hopeless housekeeper. Toys everywhere, kitchen always noisyAlfie baking yet another complicated cake, Sophie making dumplings with flour over everything: table, floor, cat, brother and a dozing Maisie in her crib. How could one put up with such mess? Shed scold the children, only to see toys immediately scattered again, groan at Lizzies calm response:
Theyll pick up when theyre finished.
Margaret tried to explain that children must be raised properly. But then Alfie, hearing his grandmothers complaints, would eye his sister, drag his toy box to the centre of the room and start clearing up.
So Gran wont nag! Sophie, pick upthen lets make paper snowflakes. Christmas is coming and weve nothing ready!
Lizzie, stifling a laugh, would run off to feed Maisie, rather than let her mother-in-law see her mirth. Snowflakes meant another round with the hoover for endless paper shreds, but soon handmade, wobbly, yet wondrous decorations would brighten the windows and Christmas would seem that much closer. Charlie would return, tired from work, smile at the mess.
Fabulous! Time to get the tree down, perhaps?
In November? Lizzie would hand him Maisie, turning to the salad, Itll be bare by December if you do.
Well buy a new one!
Margaret would suffer this madhouse for a week, then retreat back south to Brighton, where shed chosen to retire in luxury. There, within another week, loneliness would strike and shed ring Charlie with endless advice and grievances.
Lizzie hung up on me again!
Mum, did she really?
She said she had milk boiling and Maisie was crying.
So why are you upset?
I didnt hear a baby. Not a whisper, you see? I think shes ignoring me.
Mum, its all in your head.
Charlie would sigh, listen to the rants, and count the hours to evening, when everyonehis parents-in-law, Roger and Dorothy, now retiredwould gather in the big family home, happy to help with the grandchildren. At first, Charlie was uneasy with their constant presence, but over time realised hed have it no other way.
Dorothy would hand him a plate of her famous paella, brew tea just how he liked it, and ask, Hows it going, Charlie? Need anything?
Her periodic audits of his firm were so thorough, Charlie was forever grateful the mistakes were caught before the taxman found them. Full and content, Charlie would linger at the table, until Roger would appear, set out the chess board, and after a game or two, declare,
Time for you to head home, son! Before you wear out your welcome.
After Sophies birth, Charlie offered his in-laws rooms in their house.
Theres plenty of space.
But Dorothy and Roger refused.
Your house is yours. Were just guests, and have our own home. Children should live on their own, build their own lives and families. Thats right, isnt it? Dorothy would brush away a tear. When were too old to cope, perhaps well come to you. But for now, you need your freedomand so do we.
Charlie, used to the strict division between parent and child, began to change his mind. Sharing life with Roger and Dorothy, he felt accepted as he wasand didnt need to put on an act. He could chat about nothing, stay silent when he wished, and never worry his words would bring:
What nonsense! Youre a grown man! Be serious!
From the day Lizzie came into his life, the unpredictable and the spontaneous had become normal. So, when, eighteen months after Maisies birth, Lizzie burst into his office with their little girl, hair wild, he was only slightly surprised.
Look at this!
No panicif anything, she seemed pleased. Charlie glanced warily at his daughterall curls safeand then to the magazine Lizzie held out, puzzling over the photograph inside.
Why has Maisies hair been chopped short?
That was his first thought. Looking up, he fixed his gaze on his daughterthe curls still there, reaching for him.
But What Lizzie! Whats going on?
Look again! I nearly fell down when I saw the photo. Its impossible, Charlie! Just look at her!
From the pages of a childcare magazine, a girl stared outso like their Maisie it was uncanny. On closer scrutiny, the differences revealed themselves: not the short, dark hair that made the blue eyes seem so enormous, nor the fact that, despite being labelled Maisies age-mate, the girl looked far slighter than their chubby, rosy-cheeked Maisie. What truly set her apart was the haunted look on her face; not a trace of a smile, only worry and uncertainty, as if the camera was something fearsome and the session a threat. The anxiety in her eyes made Charlie flinch, shoving the magazine aside.
What on earth? He drummed his fingers along the edge of his desk, his habit when pondering big decisions.
How is this even possible, Lizzie?
How should I know? Lizzie sagged into the corner sofa, letting Maisie toddle off to nose around her fathers study. Finally aware how hot she was after her mad dash from the café to Charlies office, she unfastened her coat. It was there, while waiting for her takeaway, shed found the magazine abandoned on a table, and absently flicked through ituntil that page.
If they were the same age, Id think Id had twins and we were about to start some melodramatic search for a lost child, like something off the telly. But Maisies six months younger.
Well, youd never guess. The other girls so tiny
Orphanage kids are always like that, Charlie. Its no ones granny baking cakes or bringing them fresh milk, is it? Lizzie caught her breath, turned serious. What are we going to do, love? You realise its not just a coincidence?
I do now Charlie leaned back, rescuing the stapler from Maisies determined little hands. I dont know yet, Lizzie. We need to think.
We do, quickly. Shes all alone there. No mum to cuddle her. No dad to protect her.
Lizzie hitched Maisie up and hurried out. Alfies waitingIm off, pool first, then home. See you tonight!
She kissed him and left, leaving Charlie alone to think. As he spun in his chair, childhood memories surfacedhow hed lay awake at night and wonder why he was born to his own parents, not the neighbours, where the father drank and the mother yelled at her kids until the police got called. Who chose where each child ended up?
Now, staring at the photo on his desk, Charlie realisedfor this girl at least, he might be the one to decide. Give her a chance at happiness, as much as any of his own could ever know. And Lizzieshe seemed already certain in her heart.
The final decision did not come lightly. They deliberated for weeks, especially once they began the adoption preparation course. What they learned therethe complications, the traumaswas daunting. It all seemed so simple: if youve love and means, just share your home with an orphan. But its far from straightforward. Lizzie checked herself, waiting for Charlies backing, knowing this was not only a matter of opening ones heart, but also making every possible plan for the new life theyd be inviting in.
Thankfully, Marianne was found to be nearly healthyLizzie, half-guilty, sighed in relief. Not that she feared the challenges, but Margarets words lingered: would their own children suffer from lack of attention if so much went to a child who needed it even more? Charlie, who softened his mothers verdict as much as possible, tried to reassure his wife:
Were ready, Lizzie. We know exactly what were doingwell be fine.
What if your mum never accepts Marianne? I wont have the children divided, Charlie, you know that. I made sure no one could favour one grandchild over the others when we had Sophie. But Marianne isnt even her own Lizzie gripped her temples. How can I make her see shes a childnot an intruder, not a burden, just another little girl, like Maisie?
I dont know yet. But if Mum starts carrying on, she wont be welcome here. My children arent to be split into mine and others. If your parents can accept Marianne as a granddaughter, Mumll have to do the same.
You cant force love, Charlie Lizzie rose and went to check on the girls.
The warm glow of the nightlight fell on two sleeping shapesarms and legs tangled, Maisie and Marianne wrapped around each other. Lizzie no longer bothered to separate them, not after Maisie, wary at first, one night called her new sister into bed, set up such a fuss when Lizzie tried to move Marianne that thered been no arguing since. She just tucked the duvet around both dark heads and kissed them, not always able to tell which was which in the dim lightonce maybe she knew by smell, by something faintly different, but now, Marianne smelled just like her ownmischief, sweets, milk, happiness.
Margaret arrived half a year after Marianne had joined the family. She eyed the girl with distaste, showered affection on the others, and failed to notice when Marianne, her old orphanage habits rising, vanished so well that Lizzie spent nearly an hour searching, panic rising.
What is it, my love? Why are you frightened?
Marianne snuggled into Lizzie, silent, refusing to be parted. At last Dorothy intervened.
Come here, darling! Will you have soup with Granny? Grab a spoon!
Dorothy! The same bowl? Margaret gaped.
Why not? Its a big bowlwell manage, wont we, Marianne? Hurry up, or Ill eat the lot and leave you nothing!
The children shrieked with laughter, Margarets frown only deepening.
Later, as the two grandmothers washed up together, with Lizzie taking the children to their clubs, Margaret hissed, Soyou support this madness?
Taking in a child?
Yes.
Dorothy dried a plate, nodding. I do. I was against at first, Ill be honest.
Why didnt you speak up?
Because its not my life, Margaret. Not my family. Its Charlie and Lizziestheyre grown. Didnt we raise them for this? To make their own choices? If I stand in their way, where would that leave me? On the edge, not part of their lives. And what of all this conflictwhats the point? Over a child, lucky enough that our children, with their compassionate hearts, chose to give her a home? Lifes so short, Margaret. I find myself afraid of time now. Its fast; it spares nobody, nothingrelationships, people, all of it. Why waste it on quarrels, proving how much more we know than those who love us? Maybe problems will come, maybe Charlie and Lizzie will have regrets. But their regrets, Margaretnot yours, not mine. Our job is to help, to be there, and to be the mothers wholl kiss a grazed knee forever, whether that knee fits in our hand or not.
They spoke a long while, and Lizzie, home with the children, peeked in and shared a grateful smile with her mother when she saw Margaret hand Marianne a sweet, no different from Maisie.
Six months later, at Brightons windswept beach, Margaretstill proud and elegant in a broad sun hatwraps her arms round two girls so alike passers-by take them for twins. Narrowing her eyes to the horizon, she suddenly cries, There! Just look! Can you see, Marianne?
Both girls freeze in awe, eyes wide as dolphins frolic near the shore, close enough they feel they could almost touch them. When the dolphins start chasing the shoals along the waters very edge, spooking Marianne, she clings hard to Margaret, who hugs her close.
There, preciousdont be afraid! Im here, youre safe.
Maisie, squealing with delight, dashes for the waves, and Margaret races after her to be sure the dolphins arent tamed there and then.
Afterwards, she buys both girls an extra ice cream, parading arm-in-arm down the promenade, head high under admiring glances. Quite right toosuch beauties shes got. These are hers to be proud of.
