Oh blimey, let me tell you this proper heartwarming tale. So there I was one afternoon in my back garden when
“Margaret, quick!” John shouted from outside, and I dropped my half-kneaded bread dough straight into the mixing bowl.
I dashed out to the patiomy husband was standing by the old oak tree. And next to him two tiny kids: a boy and a girl. They were sat in the grass between the runner beans, all muddy, in tattered clothes, with these big scared eyes.
“Whered they come from?” I whispered, stepping closer.
The little girl reached out to me. The boy stayed put but kept staring. They couldnt have been more than two or three.
“Dunno,” John scratched his head. “I was watering the veg patch, and there they were. Like theyd popped up from nowhere.”
I crouched down. The girl immediately clung to my neck, pressing her face into my shoulder. She smelled like dirt and faintly of milk gone off. The boy stayed quiet but watched me like a hawk.
“What are your names, loves?” I asked softly.
No answer. Just the girl sniffling into my cardigan.
“Should call the council,” John said. “Or the local bobby.”
“Hang on,” I said, smoothing the girls messy hair. “Lets feed em first. Look how thin they are.”
I led the girl inside; the boy followed, gripping the hem of my skirt. In the kitchen, I sat them at the table, poured milk, and buttered some bread. They wolfed it down like they hadnt eaten in days.
“Maybe travellers left em?” John wondered, watching them.
“Doubt it,” I shook my head. “Their kids usually have darker hair. These two are fair as daisies.”
Once fed, they perked up. The boy even grinned when I gave him another slice. The girl curled into my lap and dozed off, fists gripping my jumper.
That evening, PC Davies turned up. He had a look at the kids and scribbled in his notebook.
“Ill put word out in the villages,” he said. “Might be someone missing em. For now, they can stay with you. No room at the care home in town.”
“Dont mind at all,” I said quick, holding the sleeping girl close.
John nodded. Wed been married a year with no kids of our own. And nowtwo at once.
That night, we made up a spot for them by the hearth. The boy took ages to sleep, just watching me. I held out my hand, and he finally took my finger.
“Dont fret,” I whispered. “Youre safe now.”
Come morning, a tiny hand patted my cheek. I opened my eyesthe girl was beside me, stroking my face.
“Mummy” she said, unsure.
My heart near stopped. I scooped her up and hugged her tight.
“Yes, sweetheart. Mummy.”
Fifteen years flew by. We named the girl Emilyshe grew into a proper beauty, all golden hair and eyes like a summer sky. Thomas turned out strong as an ox, just like his dad.
Both helped on the farm, aced school, and were our whole world.
“Mum, I want to go to uni in London,” Emily announced at tea. “Study medicine.”
“And Ill do agriculture at Harrogate,” Thomas added. “Dad, you said its time to modernise the farm.”
John grinned and clapped his sons shoulder. We never had kids of our own, but never regretted itthese two were ours in every way.
Back then, Davies found no one. We got guardianship, then adoption. The kids always knew the truthwe hid nothing. But to them, we were Mum and Dad.
“Remember my first attempt at scones?” Emily laughed. “Burnt the lot!”
“And you, Tom, were terrified of Buttercup the cow,” John teased. “Thought shed trample you!”
We laughed, talking over each other with memories. So many moments! Emily crying on her first day of school, clinging to me. Tom walloping the lads who called him “adopted.” The meeting with the headmaster after that stopped sharp.
Later, John and I sat on the bench out back.
“Turned out alright, didnt they?” he said, arm round me.
“Proper proud,” I nodded.
Next day, everything flipped. A posh car pulled up. Out stepped a man and woman, mid-forties, all sharp suits and cold smiles.
“Hello,” the woman said, voice like a frost. “Were here for our children. Twinsa boy and girlwent missing fifteen years back.”
Felt like Id been dunked in ice. John stepped out behind me, solid as a rock.
“And you think theyre here?” he said, calm as you like.
“Weve tracked them to you,” the man pulled out a folder. “Documents here. These are our kids.”
I checked the datesmatched. But my gut screamed no.
“Fifteen years you waited?” I said quietly. “Whereve you been?”
“We searched!” the woman sighed. “They were with a nanny who took them. Had a crash en route kids vanished. Only just got a lead.”
Just then, Emily and Tom came out. Seeing strangers, they froze.
“Mum, whats going on?” Emily grabbed my hand.
The woman gasped. “Sophie! Its you! And Oliver!”
The kids exchanged baffled looks.
“Were your real parents,” the man blurted. “Were taking you home.”
“Home?” Emilys voice shook. She squeezed my hand tighter. “We are home.”
“Oh, come now,” the woman stepped forward. “Bloods thicker than water. Weve a proper estate in Surrey. Can help with the farm. Better than staying with strangers.”
That did it. Rage boiled up in me.
“Fifteen years you didnt look,” I hissed. “Now theyre grown, usefulsuddenly you care?”
“We filed reports!” the man snapped.
“Prove it,” John held out his hand. The man fumbled out a paperdated last month.
“Thats forged,” John said. “Wheres the original?”
The man faltered.
“You never looked,” Tom cut in, sharp. “Davies checked. No reports.”
“Quiet, boy!” the man barked. “Pack your thingsyoure leaving!”
“Were not going anywhere,” Emily stood firm. “These are our parents. Proper ones.”
The woman flushed, yanking out her phone.
“Im calling the police. Blood trumps paperwork.”
“Go on,” John nodded. “Ask for Davies. Hes kept records all these years.”
An hour later, our yard was swarming. Davies, a detective, even the village mayor turned up. Emily and Tom stayed insideI held them close.
“They wont take you,” I whispered. “No matter what.”
“Not scared, Mum,” Tom clenched his fists. “Let em try.”
John came in, face grim.
“Fakes,” he said. “Documents are dodgy. Detective spotted it straight off. Dates dont line up. When we found the kids, these two were in Majorcaphotos prove it.”
“Whyd they do this?” Emily asked.
“Davies worked it out. Their farms in debt. Workers quitno wages. They wanted free labour. Heard about you twoforged the lot.”
We went outside. The man was already in a squad car. The woman shrieked about lawyers.
“Theyre ours! Youre hiding them!”
Emily walked right up to her.
“I found my family fifteen years ago. They raised me, loved me, never left. Youre just strangers who wanted workers.”
The woman recoiled like shed been slapped.
Once theyd gone, it was just us four again. Villagers drifted off, buzzing with gossip.
“Mum, Dad thanks,” Tom hugged us.
“Silly lad,” I ruffled his hair. “Like wed let anyone take you.”
Emily wiped her eyes.
“Used to wonderwhat if my real parents showed up? Now I know. Nothingd change. Youre my real family.”
That evening, we sat round the tablejust like years before, but now the kids were grown. The love was the samewarm, alive, unshakable.
“Mum, tell us again how you found us,” Emily said.
I smiled and begantwo little ones in the garden, how they crept into our home and hearts, how we became a family.
“Granny, look!” Little Charlie held up a scribbled drawing.
“Lovely!” I scooped him up. “Is that our house?”
“Uh-huh! And thats you, Grandad, Mum and Dad, Aunt Em and Uncle Jack!”
Emily came innow a doctor at the local hospital. Bump showingher second on the way.
“Mum, Tom rang. He and Lucyll be here soon. Did you
