Hore - The Love Child

For Suzanne

WANTED

Respectable married couples wishing to adopt. We have healthy infants and children available from good backgrounds.

Full surrender. Complete discretion.

References essential.

Apply Box D.103.

The Times , 1917

London, December 1917

This is the one.

Ediths eyes widened in surprise at the firm tone of her husbands voice, the light of satisfaction in his eyes. Philip was a mild-tempered man and she rarely knew him to express such a strong opinion.

This is the baby for us, Edie.

Edith, she whispered, aware of Miss Chad hovering nearby.

She contemplated the fragile infant in his arms and bit her lip, uncertain. This girl was not the prettier of the two available. Edith had wanted to reach out and cuddle the other, a sturdy cherub of ten months with rosy cheeks and a fluff of fair hair. So much like Ediths youngest sister at the same age. The nurserymaid had set the child astride a toy horse and held her as it rocked. The darlings blue eyes had widened with alarm and shed clutched at the young womans sleeve.

This other baby was too young to sit up. Three months, Miss Chad had said and bid another maid to lift her from her crib to show the visitors. The sleepy infant had taken one look at the portly bespectacled man in the black frock coat and his thin, plain-faced wife and burst into angry cries.

Poor mite, Philip had murmured and stretched out his arms to take her. Shes so light, Edie! He cradled her awkwardly, muttering a tentative, There, there. This must have been all the baby wanted because after a moment she stopped screaming and stared up at him with her troubled navy-blue gaze, tears shining on her long, dark lashes.

What sallow cheeks the child had, Edith thought, remembering the pink and white skin of the fair-haired girl. This babys small pointed face and almond-shaped eyes put her in mind of a kitten. Cats brought Edith out in a rash.

Thats better. Philip propped the infant up against his shoulder and stroked her whorl of dark hair. It was at that point that he had looked at his wife, beamed and said those devastating words: This is the one.

Miss Chad clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes glinting in satisfaction over her spectacles. Shes very dainty , isnt she? The principal of the Adoption Society was a handsome woman in her forties with a generous, upholstered figure. She wore too many strands of beads for Edith to imagine her cuddling babies.

It was Miss Chad who had answered Philips response to her advertisement in neat firm handwriting, but although shed requested references, it was in a tone that could only have been described as ingratiating. A solicitor and his wife from a quiet seaside town. Conventional, comfortably off. How suitable! You sound just the kind of people we wish to adopt one of our little ones, shed gushed, but letters of support from your vicar and a local mother of standing are a minimal requirement. The references Philip supplied had duly been checked and today the couple had come to the nursery in west London to choose a baby girl.

What do we know about this ones parents? Philip asked before Edith could draw breath to protest. I believe I told you that we wanted an orphan.

She isnt one, exactly . Miss Chad did not meet his gaze. But she has been fully relinquished by the mother.

Everyone wanted orphans, Edith supposed. If the parents were safely dead, they couldnt ask later to have the child back, could they? Miss Chad had already explained that adoption was not legally binding, such a nuisance, but that financial penalties in the Societys contract would put off any birth parent tempted to change their mind.

We dont have any orphaned girls at present. Miss Chads cheery tone grated. But this baby is special. The mothers family are well-connected, gentlefolk. Most unusual for a girl of that upbringing to get herself into trouble, but this war has upset everything. Weve had no problems with the child. Healthy, takes her milk well. Spirited , Id say, youve seen that yourselves. But with the right training I believe youd be very pleased.

It was, Edith thought, as though they were acquiring a puppy, not a baby.

The infant stared with fascination at the white silk handkerchief in Philips breast pocket. At his chuckle, her round-eyed gaze moved to his face and she batted his jaw with her starfish hand. To Ediths amazement, her usually solemn husband burst out laughing.

Philip? she said in desperation. I dont think I want

Edie, she likes me, he broke in, his eyes shining with happiness.

Yes, Im sure she does, but dont you think that sweet fair-haired girl...

An absolute enchantress, isnt she, Mrs Burns? Miss Chad cooed. More placid than this little puss, but then shes adorable in her own way, too. Its your choice. We like our parents to feel satisfied. Both children are available immediately, though we do have a waiting list for baby girls...

Wed better decide right away, Philip said, turning serious. Whichever you like, of course, Edie, dear. He smiled down at the kitten-baby. But I prefer this little thing.

Later, when Edith looked back, she wondered how shed allowed it to happen, why shed given in to her husbands whim and taken a baby she hadnt warmed to. It was partly the picture Miss Chad went on to elaborate of the mothers genteel background. Mostly, though, it was to do with Philips strength of purpose. It had taken her by surprise.

Hertfordshire, January 1918

Its eight oclock, Alice. Time you were up. Weve things to do.

Her stepmothers sharp voice cut into the young womans dreams. For a moment she lay, heavy and confused, as a clatter of crockery and a smell of toast accompanied Gwens busy footsteps into the room.

Gwen set the breakfast tray on the bedside table and went to throw open the curtains. Alice raised her head, blinking at the flood of sunlight, then rolled over with a groan and pulled a pillow over her head.

This served only to muffle Gwens strident tones. You cant go on like this, Alice. I simply wont have it and nor will your father. You still have all your life before you.

Alice pressed the pillow over her ears. She knew all too well her stepmothers opinion of her. Gwen was running through the phrases again. Selfish, I never knew such a girl. Your poor father. Its nearly broken him. According to Gwen she was stubborn, ungrateful, unwomanly, and many other things besides. All this rained down on her grief. She hated Gwen, would never forgive her, but part of her, just a small guilty part, had begun to recognize that her stepmother had saved her. From a life in the shadows, a life that would have ended before it had properly begun.

But the cost.

Once again, Alice tried to resist the image that popped into her head when she least expected it: the small kitten-like face, the bud-like mouth releasing her nipple, the whorl of dark hair, large eyes of unfathomable blue that fixed unblinkingly on hers. As though the baby were taking her in, impressing her mothers face on her mind. Alice remembered how she had stared back at her tiny daughter. Oh, look at you, shed crooned, and her lips had met the soft skin of that small forehead in a kiss. Look at you, my darling. The babys hair and eyes already reminded her of Jack. No, she wouldnt think of Jack, she simply wouldnt. And now she must learn day by day how to shut out that memory of her child. With hope and a prayer that she was alive and thriving somewhere in the world. Without her mother .