Dawn, its over between us! Jamess voice couldve chilled your tea. I want a real family, kids. You cant give me that. Ive filed for divorce! Youve got three days to pack up. Once youre gone, call me. Ill be staying at my mums til Ive sorted the flat for my child and his mum. Yes, dont look so shockedmy new girlfriends pregnant! Three days, Dawn!
Dawn just stood there, as if the floor had caved in beneath her slippers. What could she even answer? For five years, theyd tried for a baby, and every time things ended in heartbreak. The doctors kept saying she was perfectly healthy, but something always went wrong. Dawn ate salads, jogged, detoxed, the whole shebangespecially when pregnant. Last time, shed collapsed at work and the ambulance may as well have been a herd of turtles.
James slammed the door behind him. Dawn crumpled onto the settee, all the strength gone out of her. Who had the energy to even think about packing? Where was she supposed to go? Shed lived with her aunt after marrying, but Aunt Brenda was gone now and her cousin had flogged the flat. Head back to the old family cottage in Applewood? Rent a flat? Where would she even find a job? The questions swirled like confetti, but she didnt have time to play philosopher.
Come morning, the door creaked open and in swept her mother-in-law, Margaret.
Up already? Good, Margaret sniffed. Just came to make sure you dont run off with anything you shouldnt.
Im hardly likely to nick your sons old rugby socks, am I? Dawn shot back. Shall we itemise my socks and knickers while were at it?
What a stubborn thing you are! Once upon a time, you were all sugar and silence. I told James after that first miscarriage, you knowsaid you were probably barren.
That why youre here? Then please, do carry on and watch in saintly silence.
Youre not carting off the crockery, are you? Margaret beamed pure suspicion.
Its mine. Left to me by Aunt Brenda, thank you very much.
Therell be nothing left in here! Itll look like a student let, I swear!
Not my problem. But youll finally get your grandchild, wont you?
Just take your own things, if you wouldnt mind!
The laptops mine, the coffee machine and microwave were from the office lot, and the carI bought it before the wedding. Your sons got one of his own.
Seems youve enough for yourself, even if you cant produce any children!
Thats none of your business. Perhaps its just fate.
Oh, no regret? Maybe youre doing it on purpose?
Oh, dont be ridiculous. It hurts just to think about it.
Dawn glanced round the flat. All her thingsgone. Toothbrush, lipstick, slippers There was something important shed forgotten. Margarets glaring made it even harder to think. Then it hit herthe little cat figurine from her gran. Inside it, she kept a locket and a ringnot worth much, but priceless to her. James always called them tat. Had he binned them? Dawn opened the balcony door.
Whatre you after out there? Margaret called. Get your bits and wait downstairs!
The cat was still there, safe and sound. Now she could finally leave.
Here are the keys. Goodbye. And lets hope we dont bump into each other again, Dawn said, breezily.
On her way to the office, Dawn popped in to request annual leave, even though she was signed off sick.
Were all desperately sorry about whats happened to you, her boss said, sympathy blaring through the fluorescent lights, but were floundering without you. Will three weeks be enough? Half the projects end up going pear-shaped as soon as youre away.
Three weeks is fine. Take my mind off things, at least. Thank you.
Need any help?
No, Ill manage.
Well make sure your holiday pay and bonus go through.
Thanks. Honestly.
Dawn didnt even bother with flat-huntingshe headed straight for Applewood. Her grans old cottage had stood empty for three years now, ever since Gran passed away. Dawn had never known her mum; shed died giving birth to her. And now, Dawn couldnt be a mum herself…
An hours drive brought her to the cottage. The old sycamore swayed in the breeze, the garden wild with daisies. Last time shed been there with Jamesin autumntheyd charred sausages on the rusty barbecue. Dawn pulled up, rummaged out the key from her satchel, and stepped inside. She froze in the silence. Here she was, finding comfort once again in her grandmothers househer safe harbour. And maybe, just maybe, sorrow would bring a strange and unexpected happiness yet.
A Heart Scarred by Hope: A Journey Toward New Joys
“Dawn, it’s over between us!” Andrei said coldly. “I want a real family, children. You can’t give me that. I’ve filed for divorce! You have three days to pack. Call me when you’re gone. I’ll be living with my mum until I’ve sorted out a place for my child—and his mother. Yes, don’t be shocked—my new girlfriend is expecting! Three days, Dawn!”
Dawn fell silent, feeling the ground go from under her feet. What could she say? For five years they had tried for a baby, but three pregnancies had ended in heartbreak. The doctors insisted she was healthy, but something always went wrong. Dawn lived carefully, protecting her health even more during each pregnancy. The last time, she collapsed at work; even the ambulance wasn’t fast enough…
The door closed behind Andrei and Dawn collapsed on the sofa, numb. She didn’t even have the energy to pack. Where would she go? She’d lived with her aunt after getting married, but her aunt was gone and the flat had been sold by her cousin. Return to the countryside village of Pinewood, to her grandmother’s house? Rent a place? And what about her job? The questions buzzed around her mind, but there was no time to think.
In the morning, the door swung open and her mother-in-law, Diane, stepped in.
“Not sleeping? Thought so,” Diane said dryly. “I’ve just come to make sure you’re not taking too much.”
“I’m not here to grab your son’s old socks,” Dawn retorted. “Shall we count my things together?”
“So stubborn! You used to be so sweet, so quiet. I told Andrei after the first time—you can’t have children.”
“You’re here for that? Then say nothing, just watch.”
“Where are you taking the crockery?” the mother-in-law fretted.
“It’s mine. From my aunt. A keepsake.”
“It’ll be empty without them!”
“Not my worry. You’ll get a grandchild now.”
“Just take your own things!”
“The laptop is mine, the coffee machine and microwave were gifts from colleagues. The car I bought before the wedding. Your son has his own.”
“You have everything except children!”
“That’s not your concern. Maybe that’s how God wants it.”
“Doesn’t it bother you? Maybe you do it on purpose?”
“You’re talking nonsense. It hurts even to think about.”
Dawn looked round the flat—her things had nearly all gone. Her hairbrush, makeup, slippers… She’d forgotten something important. The mother-in-law’s presence made it hard to focus. Then she remembered—her cat figurine, a precious memory from her gran. Hidden inside was a tiny locket and ring—not worth much money, but priceless to her. Andrei had always called them rubbish. Had he thrown them out? Dawn checked the balcony.
“What have you forgotten now?” came the mother-in-law’s voice. “Collect your things and leave!”
She found the cat. All there. Now she could go.
“Here are the keys. Goodbye. Hopefully we won’t have to see each other again.”
Dawn stopped by the office, though she was officially on sick leave, and asked for holiday time.
“We’re all sorry for what’s happened,” her boss said. “But it’s hard without you. Will three weeks do? Be ready—we can’t keep up on some projects without you.”
“That’s fine. Work will keep me busy. Thank you.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No.”
“We’ll sort you out with holiday pay and a bonus.”
“Thank you—really.”
Dawn didn’t look for a flat—she drove to Pinewood. Her gran’s house stood empty since her passing three years before. Dawn had never known her mother; she had died in childbirth. And now Dawn herself could not become a mum…
An hour on the road, and she was at the cottage. The old maple tree, overgrown daisies. The last time she’d been here with Andrei, they had had a barbecue in autumn. Dawn pulled into the drive, the barn key was still at home. When she opened the door, she stopped still. Quiet. She stood in silence, tears welling up, knowing this old house would shelter her again—and that somehow, sorrow would finally bring her a new kind of happiness.
