Chapter 38
‘I was hoping you’d decide to knock,’ Hope said with a smile as she surveyed the very pregnant young woman standing on her doorstep. ‘It was awful looking out and seeing you standing there in the cold. Please, come in.’
Hope held out her hand, smiling when the young woman slowly lifted hers in return. Her palm was so cold, and Hope tried to warm it as the woman immediately stepped inside, not needing any further encouragement.
She used her other hand to push the door shut, sensing how nervous her visitor was while trying her best not to show it.
‘My name is Hope,’ she said, letting go of her hand and ushering her ahead. The warmth of the fire was immediate, and she noticed how her guest moved closer to it, closing her eyes for a moment as if to soak in the warmth or perhaps the feeling of safety.
‘I’m Evelina,’ she said, clearing her throat.
Hope gestured for her to sit in the chair closest to the fire, and she sank straight into it.
‘Is that a French accent I detect?’ Hope asked, in French, pleased when it elicited a smile from Evelina.
‘It is,’ Evelina replied.
‘I’ve only been in London a short while myself,’ she said. ‘I miss being able to converse in my own language, so you’re a breath of fresh air today.’
Now it was Hope who felt warmth spread through her. It was almost a sign from the universe that the first woman to visit her was from her home country, that she could help someone else who’d ended up in a place she was unfamiliar with.
Hope busied herself making coffee, not wanting to ask too many questions or make Evelina uncomfortable.
Part of her wanted to tell her that she understood her predicament; that she’d been through the pain and trauma that Evelina was facing and understood it like perhaps no one else would.
But she didn’t. She’d already decided that she wouldn’t share her own story with any of the women and girls who passed through her home.
Her lawyer was the only person who knew the truth, and once he was gone, she had no intention of anyone knowing about her past.
‘How far along are you, Evelina? Or are you not sure?’ Hope asked. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to work out the exact timings, so please don’t worry if that’s the case.’
She watched as Evelina rubbed her hands together, as if the feeling was coming back into them after being cold for so long.
‘I think I’m eight months,’ she said.
‘Did the hospital send you here to me?’ Hope asked.
‘Yes,’ Evelina replied, nodding and thanking Hope for the coffee.
Hope sat across from her, wanting to comfort her and take away any worries she might have. She could see how nervous she was, and Hope had no idea what the hospital might have told her.
‘The reason I started this place was to help women who were made to feel unwelcome, for whatever reason, at the hospital or by their families,’ she said, wrapping her fingers around the coffee cup.
‘I’m horrified that women are treated so badly, often because of circumstances they can’t help, and I want to provide a kind, safe home here for any pregnant women who might need me.
My only worry was that the hospital might not recommend my services, sending young women to the convent instead, where the church gives very little choice to the mothers in their care. ’
Just talking about the place that had taken so much from her made Hope want to cry, but she steeled herself against it. This was about helping Evelina; this was how she’d heal. She could cry later, when she was alone.
‘They said you find new parents for the babies, and that you care for women until the birth?’
Hope nodded. ‘I can, if that’s what the mother wants. But I’ll be honest with you, Evelina.’ She paused, knowing she needed to tell her the truth. ‘You’re the first woman to knock at my door, so this is as new to me as it is to you.’
Evelina took a sip of her coffee, her eyebrows raised. ‘You’ve never done this before?’
Hope could sense her concern, and she understood it. Maybe it would have been easier to share her story with her, so that she understood how similar their situations had been, but she wasn’t ready to open up to anyone about what had happened to her. She wasn’t sure if she ever would be.
‘I’ve only recently moved here and opened my house,’ Hope said.
‘I didn’t realise how difficult it would be to share my home with the community, to get support from those who should be helping women, but who, sadly, are coercing them by taking away choices that are rightfully theirs rather than offering them support.
’ She fought against the emotion rising within her.
‘It seems that no one wants to talk about pregnancies conceived out of wedlock, even though it’s something that happens frequently to women and girls from all types of families. ’
She watched the way Evelina stared down into her coffee cup, and Hope saw the tears she was trying to hide. ‘I never thought I’d have to give her up,’ Evelina said. ‘I thought I’d start a new life here, that it would be easy to find a home to rent, to establish myself…’
Hope immediately leaned across the table, reaching for her hand.
‘There’s nothing easy about being pregnant and alone, and this war isn’t going to make things any better, unfortunately. But what I can tell you is that you’re safe, and we can sit here for as long as you like and talk, if that’s what you want.’
Evelina’s fingers squeezed Hope’s as she whispered, ‘I imagined raising her on my own. I have money, but it’s running out fast, and—’
‘You thought the father might change his mind?’ Hope asked, as gently as she could. ‘That perhaps the two of you might have had a chance together?’
Evelina’s eyes met hers. Her eyes were drowned in tears, her gaze so sad it broke Hope’s heart. But this was why she was doing this; women like Evelina were the reason she’d wanted to open her home. And who more than her knew the pain a young woman in this very situation could feel?
‘Yes,’ Evelina murmured, her voice barely audible.
‘You’re welcome to stay here with me for as long as you want, Evelina,’ Hope said. ‘Whether that’s a week or a month, whether you choose to have your baby here or not. But what I can promise you is that you’ll be safe and cared for, and so will your baby.’
‘What if I don’t want to give her up after she’s born?’
Hope fought the rising tide of overwhelming emotion, trying to push it down; to not think about those moments when she’d been so desperate to hold her own baby, when that right to choose her daughter’s future, their future, was taken from her.
She took Evelina’s hand again. ‘Then you don’t have to. I established this house to give women choices, and it will be your choice and yours alone, whether you want to keep your baby and care for her, or whether you want me to find a family for her.’
Hope watched as Evelina nodded, seeing the relief on her face.
‘I can trust you?’
Hope squeezed her hand, not blinking as she fixed her gaze on Evelina. ‘You can. I’m dedicating my life to mothers and babies, and it would be a privilege for me to count you my first guest.’
A short silence stretched between them before Evelina spoke again.
‘When do I have to decide? Whether I want to stay or whether I want to…’
Hope tried not to falter over the words. ‘Put your baby up for adoption?’
Evelina began to cry then, and as she choked out a sob, it took everything Hope had not to cry along with her, as the hazy memories of her own daughter being taken threatened to overpower her.
Instead, she moved her chair to sit beside her, holding Evelina in her arms and rubbing what she hoped were soothing circles on her back.
Perhaps she should have waited until she’d come to terms with what had happened in her own life, to make all this easier, but Hope knew that if she hadn’t chosen to open her doors, then Evelina would have found herself alone.
‘Shhh,’ Hope whispered. ‘You don’t have to decide anything until you’re ready. I’ll make one of the beds up for you, just in case, so that you know you have a place here to return to.’
‘Why?’ Evelina asked, her voice barely audible. ‘Why are you being so kind to me?’
Hope was silent. She struggled to find the right words, the balance between telling her enough but not too much; to make sure she shared just enough to help Evelina understand her empathy.
‘Because I’ve been in a similar situation to you, and the way I was treated…’
Evelina was still trembling, and Hope caught herself before she said something she might later wish she hadn’t. This was about Evelina, not her, and she quickly wiped away her tears while Evelina had her head lowered, not wanting her guest to see how hard this was for her.
‘I have my own personal reasons for doing what I’m doing,’ Hope said, hearing renewed strength in her own voice.
‘But unlike many others helping women in need, I understand what it’s like to be treated as if I’m somehow worthless because of circumstances outside of my control.
Put simply, I don’t want other women to feel that way, not if I can help it. ’
She sensed the change in Evelina, the way the young woman’s eyes met hers, as if hearing even a little of Hope’s personal circumstances had made her understand her motivations. Hope knew then that Evelina trusted her.
‘If it’s not an inconvenience,’ Evelina said, wiping her damp cheeks, ‘I’d very much like to return with my things this evening.’
Hope couldn’t hold back her smile; the weight that lifted off her chest came as a great relief as she realised that she was going to be able to help Evelina in the way all women deserved to be cared for when they were at their most vulnerable.
‘I’d like that, Evelina,’ she said. ‘How about we finish our coffee and I show you around the house? Then you can organise your affairs and we can make up your room together.’
A gentle silence settled between them as they both sipped their coffee, and for the first time in months, a little piece of sadness inside Hope was healed.
‘Now, tell me all about where you’re from, Evelina,’ she asked, settling back into her chair. ‘I’d forgotten just how much I’ve missed France until you walked through my door.’
Hope smiled as she listened to Evelina speak, knowing in her heart that what they would share through the coming weeks would make them as close as two women could be.
She would give her all the care and love she’d prayed for herself when she’d needed it, and when the time was right, she would tell Evelina about her idea for the little wooden boxes she’d had made.
Because if she chose to offer her baby for adoption, Hope wanted her to know that she could leave something behind for her child.
She imagined them as little clues to the past, and maybe, just maybe, those babies would grow into adults who wanted to find the mother who’d given birth to them.
Which was why she’d had eight of them made to start with—one for her to create a box for her own daughter, even though she’d never receive it, and the rest for other women who liked the idea.
Because at the very least, it would mean those children would have something that connected them to their mothers, if they ever discovered that they were adopted—something that Hope would forever wish she could have done for the daughter she’d never know.
She still hadn’t decided what to leave in her box, or whether she even wanted to place anything in there at all.
At one point she’d imagined her own set of clues for her daughter being tucked away safely with all the other boxes from other mothers.
And when she did, she pictured it being a little bottle of her and Gus’s famous absinthe that she’d saved, one of her drawings, and maybe even the diamond earrings that Charles had left for her.
She wasn’t ready to put them in there yet—she wanted to remember him and wear them every day for now—but she would have loved her daughter to have them.
Perhaps they were something she could talk to the lawyer about one day, just in case he ever found her daughter.
Hope smiled across the table at Evelina, watching the way her expression changed, how relaxed she’d become in her company. And even though her heart was still broken from all she’d lost, she too felt a sense of hope at what was to come.
Not because she’d ever forget those she’d loved and lost, because she doubted she’d ever stop mourning the loss of Gus, her daughter or even Charles; but because she’d chosen not to close her heart.
She was ready to love these women fiercely for the time they were with her, even if she had no doubt that every baby born in her home would take a piece of her with them.
Thank you, Charles. For the gift of this home, for showing me the love of family. Your kindness will never be forgotten.