She Brought a Baby to His Grave

CHAPTER 2 - THE LETTER IN PLASTIC

Margaret did not open the envelope in the graveyard.

She brought Emma and the baby home first.

The cottage sat two miles from the churchyard, with ivy on the old stone walls and a kettle that always whistled too loudly. Emma hesitated in the doorway, dripping rainwater onto the mat, as if she expected to be turned away at any second.

"You'll catch your death out there," Margaret said. "Come in."

The baby woke at last, blinking up at the unfamiliar room. He had Daniel's serious eyes too, though they were softer, still learning the world.

"What's his name?" Margaret asked.

"Oliver."

Margaret repeated it under her breath, like a prayer she wasn't sure she had the right to say.

While Emma changed the baby near the fire, Margaret dried the envelope with a dish towel. Daniel's handwriting stared back at her from the front.

For Mum.

Her hands shook so badly she had to sit down before opening it.

Inside was a single page.

Mum, if you're reading this, then I didn't get the time I thought I had. Please don't blame Emma. I asked her to keep away because I was a coward. I thought I could fix things first.

Margaret read the line three times.

Fix what?

The letter went on. Daniel had met Emma while volunteering at the repair garage that trained young mothers to get back into work. Emma had been pregnant, scared, and alone. Daniel had promised to help. He had also promised to tell Margaret everything after his next hospital scan.

Hospital scan.

Margaret looked up sharply. Daniel had died in a car accident on the north road. That was what the police had told her. What did a hospital scan have to do with anything?

Emma stood still by the hearth, holding Oliver against her shoulder.

"I didn't know about the letter until after the funeral," she said quietly. "He gave it to his friend Paul to pass on if... if he didn't make it."

Margaret folded the page with stiff fingers.

"Why wait three years?"

Emma's face crumpled.

"Because Paul only found me last week. And because there was something else Daniel never told you."

She reached into Oliver's bag again and placed a faded ultrasound photo on the table.

On the back, in Daniel's handwriting, were six words:

Mum must never know I'm ill.