**MUM, ILL COME!**
Stepping out of the maternity centre, Nicole slumped onto a bench and fished her phone from her handbag. After a few rings, Daniel picked up.
“Dan, why didnt you come meet me?” Nicole asked, her voice heavy with sadness.
“Im on my way, love! The traffics a nightmare!” Daniel blurted out, the sound of frustrated drivers and car horns blaring in the background.
“Ive already left,” Nicole murmured. “I couldnt stay there any longer.”
A sigh crackled through the phone. He understood.
“Waiting for you,” she muttered before hanging up.
Tucking her phone away, Nicole took a deep breath and glanced around. A gentle autumn breeze tugged golden leaves from the branches, and the sun warmed her skin, as if giving its last bit of warmth before winter set in. It was the tail end of an Indian summer. Mothers strolled with their children, soaking up the rare sunshine while kids tumbled into piles of crisp leaves, giggling. The playground outside the maternity centre was packedalmost mockingly so.
Nicole felt the lump rise in her throat again. Shed never bring her own child to that playground. Because she wouldnt have one. Not after four miscarriages in a row. This time, shed been referred from the standard clinic to a specialist centre. Daniel hadnt hesitated to pay for the best care. But even there, the doctors were baffled. Nicole and Daniel were perfectly healthycompatibility tests clear. The diagnosis loomed in her file: “recurrent pregnancy loss of unknown cause.” Her consultant had offered nothing but pity and a quiet suggestion to “have faith.”
Her thoughts snapped back when someone sat beside her. An elderly Romani womanlong, patterned skirt, a headscarf, heavy gold earrings with glinting stonessettled close.
“Youre sad, love?” the woman said without preamble.
Nicole nodded.
“I see your little one didnt stay this time either,” the woman continued.
“How do you know?” Nicole blurted, then wondered if the woman had contacts inside the centre. Here it comesthe curse talk, the request for money
“Your dreams they hold the answer. Same one each time, just before you lose the baby. Look there for the clue. Theres a curse on you, girl. The child will show you. When you break it, another dream will comethen youll know its over.”
Nicole just gaped. Shed never told anyone about the dreamsnot even Daniel.
Before she could recover, the woman stood and walked off without asking for a single penny.
***
A week earlier.
The same train station, the platform split in twoone side bathed in sunlight, warm and inviting; the other dark and gloomy.
Nicole stood waiting, surrounded by other women, all tense with anticipation. The trains horn sounded, and moments later, it roared past, the wind whipping her hair.
Her heart pounded. The doors opened, and children spilled outlittle boys and girls, no older than three, dressed in bright jumpers and dresses. They leapt into waiting arms, disappearing into the light.
On the dark side, older children shuffled reluctantly into the train, their faces streaked with tears.
Nicoles eyes darted to the windowschildren still inside, drifting from light to shadow as they realised they wouldnt be leaving.
Then she saw her. A little girl with golden hair and green eyes, waving sadly. One hand was hidden behind her back. A surge of loveraw and fierceflooded Nicole. She lunged forward but was stopped by a conductor in a crisp white suit.
“You cant. The child must come alone.”
The girl didnt move. She *wanted* toNicole could see itbut something held her back. The girl mouthed words: *”Mum, Ill come, just not yet!”*
“When? *When?*” Nicole cried.
“When you free the bird!” The girl revealed her hidden handa blue tit, pierced through by a needle, blood dripping onto her palm. With a sigh, she retreated into the dark.
The conductor stepped inside. The train rolled away, leaving the women behind.
***
“Nic? *Nic!*” Daniels voice snapped her back.
She blinked and found herself in their living room, staring at a paintinga winter scene, a rowan branch heavy with red berries, two blue tits perched on it, wings spread as if ready to fly.
A wedding gift from Daniels ex, Marianne. A peace offering after her petty revenge schemes. Nicole squinted. Something glinted on one birds side.
“Nic, you okay?” Daniel touched her shoulder.
She gently brushed him off, lifted the painting, and turned it over. A needleburied deep, the tip just visiblepierced the canvas right through the inscription: *”In reconciliation, from Marianne.”*
Goosebumps prickled her skin.
“What the?” Daniel frowned.
“Your Mariannes handiwork,” Nicole whispered.
“Shes *not* mine,” he grumbled, green eyes narrowing.
“Doesnt matter. Its a curse. *Thats* why I keep losing them.”
She told him about the dreamsand the Romani woman.
***
An hour later, they were back at the centre. The woman sat waiting, as if shed known theyd return.
“You knew?” Nicole asked.
“Knew youd come,” the woman corrected. “Found the thread?”
“Needle and all,” Nicole said bitterly. “You know about these thingscan you help? Well pay you!”
The woman smiled and nodded.
***
Five months later.
Same station. Same platform. But this time, Nicole stood in the light, heart pounding as the train approached.
The conductor stepped out first, her white suit glowing. Then*there she was*the little girl, sprinting into Nicoles arms. Two hearts beat as one. A few more months, and theyd never be apart.
What were months compared to years of longing?
