Leaving the maternity centre, Nicole slumped onto a bench and pulled her phone from her handbag. After a few rings, Daniel answered.
“Dan, why didnt you meet me?” Nicole asked, her voice heavy with sadness.
“Im on my way, love! Traffic!” Daniel blurted. In the background, irritated voices and car horns blared.
“Ive already left,” Nicole said. “I couldnt stay there any longer.”
A sigh crackled through the phone. He understood.
“Ill wait,” Nicole muttered before hanging up.
Tucking her phone away, she took a deep breath and glanced around. A gentle autumn breeze tugged golden leaves from the branches, and the sun warmed her face, as if giving its last embrace before winter. It was the final stretch of an Indian summer. Mothers strolled with their children, making the most of the fleeting warmth. Kids tumbled laughing into piles of crisp leaves, while the women chatted, swapping stories of their little ones milestones. The playground outside the centre was packedtauntingly so, as if fate were mocking her.
Nicole swallowed the lump in her throat. She would never bring her own child here. There would be no children. This was her fourth miscarriage. This time, theyd sent her to a specialist centre instead of the usual clinic. Daniel hadnt spared any expense. Yet even here, the doctors had no answers. Nicole and Daniel were perfectly healthytheyd even checked their compatibility. The diagnosis remained: “recurrent pregnancy loss of unknown cause.” Her consultant had looked at her sympathetically and said, sincerely, “Have faith and pray.”
Her thoughts scattered as someone sat beside her. Turning, she saw an elderly Romani womanlong floral skirt, headscarf, heavy gold earrings with chunky stones. A picture-perfect image of her wandering people.
“Youre sad, dear?” the woman asked without preamble.
Nicole nodded.
“Your little one didnt stay this time either,” the woman continued.
“How do you know?” Nicole gasped, suspecting the woman had contacts inside the centre feeding her information. Here it comescurses, hexes, palm greasing
“Your dreams they hold the answer,” the woman murmured. “Each time before losing the child, you have the same dream. Look there for the clue. A curse is upon you, girl. The child will show you. Break it, and another dream will comethen youll know its over.”
“Uh” Nicole gaped. Shed told no one about the dreams, not even Daniel.
Before she could recover, the woman stood abruptly and walked away, strangely, without demanding a penny.
***
A week earlier.
The same train station platform, split into twoone side bright and welcoming, the other dark and grim. Nicole stood at the edge, torn between them, like the other waiting women.
A train whistle echoed in the distance. The wind whipped her face as the engine roared past. Her heart pounded. The carriage doors slid open, and children spilled outlittle boys and girls, no older than three, in colourful dresses and T-shirts. They ran into their mothers arms and vanished into the light.
On the dark side stood older children. Reluctantly, they boarded the train, tears streaking their cheeks.
Nicole pressed close to the windows, frantic. Inside, children lingeredsome drifted from the light to the dark as hope faded. Then she saw her: a fair-haired girl with emerald eyes, waving sadly. One hand was hidden behind her back.
Love surged through Nicole, so fierce she lunged forwardonly to be stopped by a conductor in a crisp white suit.
“No. The child must come out on her own.”
But the girl didnt. She strained, as if held back. Other women wailed behind Nicole.
The girls lips moved: “Mummy, Ill come! Just later!”
“When, darling? When?” Nicole cried.
“When you free the bird!” The girl revealed her hidden handa blue tit, impaled by a needle, blood beading on her tiny palm. With a sigh, she stepped back, fading into the shadows as the train pulled away.
***
“Nic, snap out of it!” Daniels voice jolted her awake.
She blinked, finding herself at home, staring at a paintinga winter scene, a rowan branch laden with red berries, two blue tits perched, wings spread. A wedding gift from Daniels ex, Marianne, as a peace offering for past spite.
Nicole squinted. Something glinted on one birds side.
“Nic, you alright?” Daniel touched her shoulder.
She brushed him off, stood, and examined the painting. Turning it over, she found a needle driven through the canvas, hidden beneath Mariannes inscription: *”In reconciliation, from Marianne.”* The tip pierced the birds breast.
Goosebumps prickled her skin.
“Whats this?” Daniel frowned.
“Your Mariannes handiwork,” Nicole whispered.
“Shes not mine!” he snapped, green eyes narrowing.
“Doesnt matter. Its a curse. Thats why I lose them.” She told him everythingthe dreams, the Romani woman.
***
An hour later, they found the woman waiting outside the centre.
“You knew?” Nicole asked.
“I knew youd return,” she said. “Did you find the thread?”
“With the needle still in it,” Nicole said bitterly. “You understand these thingscan you help us? Well repay you.”
The woman nodded.
***
Five months later.
The same station. The same platform. But this time, Nicole stood in the light, her heart racing as the train approached.
The conductor stepped out, radiant in white. Thenher. The fair-haired girl, sprinting into Nicoles arms. Two hearts beat as one.
Theyd have to wait a few more months. But after years of sorrow, it was nothing.
**Sometimes, the unseen binds usuntil we learn to look deeper.**
