Their mother sent them to an orphanage just after the New Year… The girls wept. They had been raised at home. While their mother pursued her own happinesswhich she did oftenthe sisters, Emily and Lily, had lived with their grandmother. But when the grandmother passed away on Boxing Day, their mother gave them away. No, she wasnt a loose woman; she didnt drink or even smoke. But was it fair, she thought, that her ex-husband lived as he pleased while she was left to raise two children alone?
As she unbuttoned Lilys coat, their mother murmured, “Stop crying, its just how things are. Do you think I wanted this? Youll be fine hereyoull thank me later!” Lily, only three, barely understood what was happening. But seeing the anger in her mothers eyes and the frightened, tear-streaked face of her older sister, seven-year-old Emily, she knew it was bad. Their mother hissed, “Dont shame me. Im not abandoning you. Ill come back for you at Easter!” The girls quieted, still snifflingafter all, their mother had promised.
Adjusting to the orphanage was hard, though the caretakers were kind, touched by their gentleness, their quiet intelligence, and the way they clung to each other. Emily won everyone over with her solemn dark eyes, while little Lily, round-faced and sweet, was like a cheerful snowball. Lily tugged at Emilys sleeve. “Whens Easter? Is Easter when Mum comes?” Patiently, Emily explained again, “Easters a holiday in spring. Remember how Gran used to paint eggs?” Lily nodded gravely, but at the mention of Gran, tiny tears welled up. Emily wished she knew when Easter would come too. She asked one of the carers, Miss Eleanor, who was surprisedmost children counted down to Christmas or birthdays. Still, she gave Emily a small calendar. “See this number? Thats when Easter isIve circled it. Every number is a day. When I was in school, I crossed them off like this.” So Emily did the same, watching the chain of numbers shrink.
On Easter morning, Lily rushed to Emily, clutching a red-painted egg. “Emily! Todays the day! Mums coming!” Emily was just as eager. At first, the waiting was joyful, but by afternoon, she felt like crying. Lilys endless chatter made it worse. By evening, when it was clear their mother wasnt coming, Emily soothed Lily: “Maybe the bus got stuck. The roads are awfuleveryone says so. Dont cry, Lily. Theyll dig it out, and Mum will come tomorrow.” Lily swallowed her tears and nodded. But their mother never came, though the girls waited, inventing excuses.
One morning, Emily couldnt find Lily. The carers explained their mother had taken herbut left Emily behind. Years later, she learned her mother had signed her away. Yet luck found her: her fathers sister, Aunt Margaret, tracked her down. A kindhearted woman, Aunt Margaret became more than familyEmily soon called her “Mum.” Slowly, the warmth of her new home mended the wounds in Emilys heart. She tried not to think of her mother or sister, though she knew Lily had been too young to understand.
Years passed. Emily trained as a nurse, married, had a son. Life wasnt lavish, but it was full of love. Then, one day, a letter arrivedfrom Lily.
“Dear sister, do you remember me? I only recall your plaits and your checkered slippers. I long to see you! Weve moved back to the villagemay I visit?” Emily found it oddwho invited themselves over?but agreed.
Lily, limping badly in a blue coat, waved eagerly in the crowd at the station. The moment she saw Emily, she threw her arms around her, sobbing, “Its you! I knew straight away!” Emily muttered, “Still a crybaby,” though her own eyes stung.
Over supper, Lily explained: “Dont blame Mum. Uncle John said hed take us when they met, but she was afraid to bring two at once. Then they had a son, then a daughterlittle Violet, such a doll! Uncle Johns a good carpenter, always busy. We even go to the seaside sometimes. But when I was twelve, a bull gored meno one else was hurt, but now I limp… Your pies lovelymay I have the recipe?”
Emily asked, “Do you work? Study? Have friends? Youre so pretty!”
Lily flushed. “After the accident, I needed so much care… I help at home or with Uncle Johns accounts. Mums a clerk at the council. As for friendswell, the limp…”
Emily insisted Lily stay the night. As she slept, Emily noticed her clothesclean, but threadbare and clumsily mended. Even the nurses at the hospital dressed better.
At dawn, Emily woke her husband. “Take me to Willowbrook.” Grumbling, he did.
Finding her mothers house, Emilys heart hammered. Her mother didnt recognize her. “Good morning, Mum,” Emily said. Her mother greeted her coldly, then snapped, “Wheres Lily? Shed better get backthe children need breakfast.”
Calmly, Emily replied, “Lilys staying with me. Pack her things. And money, if you can spare it. Ill get her work as a nurses aide. That leg needs proper care.”
Her mother scowled. “Get out. Well fetch Lily ourselves.”
Emily shook her head. “Her names Lily, not the girl. Call your cow whatever you likeyoull be milking her now. Want the village to know how their respectable clerk abandoned her children?”
Her mother slammed the door. Half an hour later, a thin, stooped man emerged with a bag. “Im John. Lilys things are here. Tell her Ill send money. Shes been Cinderella long enough.”
Walking back, Emily thought: Life isnt simple. But is simple so hard? For men not to drink or stray, for mothers not to abandon children, for sisters not to forget each other?
Just to be decent people.
