Chapter 25

25

LONDON, 1939

Evelina stood on the side of the road, gazing up at the ordinary-looking house. She’d expected something to mark it from the other houses on the street, something that would tell her whether she should or shouldn’t knock at the door, but there was nothing more than a simple sign that read ‘Hope’s House.’

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hand resting on her stomach, which was now so large she barely recognised herself when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She certainly couldn’t recall the last time she’d been able to see her toes.

A little voice in her head urged her forward, told her to at least knock on the door and ask if they could help her, but another voice urged her to run as far as she possibly could. It told her that she needed to fight to keep her baby, not abandon her. Evelina pulled her coat tighter around herself as the cold began to bite, as she remembered the humiliation she’d suffered only a few days earlier at the hospital. If only she’d thought to buy a ring and place it on her finger, it might not have been such an embarrassing ordeal, but she’d presumed with so many men away now and the war raging on, the last thing anyone would worry about was whether or not she was married. How wrong she’d been.

‘Give your baby a chance at a proper life,’ the nurse had said, her tone clipped and no-nonsense. ‘It’s time to stop being selfish and think of your baby’s future. How are you even going to care for a child on your own?’

Evelina had wanted to point out just how many women would be widowed and raising children on their own, thanks to the war, but she’d held her tongue. She’d come for medical care, not advice, and she knew better than to be smart, given the circumstances. She needed this nurse’s help.

‘My fiancé will be joining me after the war, as soon as he can come to England,’ she said. ‘The timing was unfortunate, but we’re looking forward to being reunited.’

The nurse shook her head, as if disgusted at how irresponsible Evelina had been in becoming pregnant in the first place; as if she was the first woman to go to bed with a man to whom she wasn’t legally wedded.

‘I’ve heard of a place that’s opened, a house for women like you.’

‘Women like me?’ Evelina asked. She had a good grasp of English, having learnt it at school and practised it frequently, but there were some things she found difficult to translate, especially the tone.

‘Unmarried women,’ the nurse said, shaking her head again as if Evelina was stupid for not understanding her the first time.

Evelina sat tall, her chin high. ‘What exactly would this place do for me?’

‘Help you have your baby, look after you, and then find parents for your baby once it’s born. I’d say it’s the best option you have. We don’t want your type here, and she might just take you in until after the baby is born.’

Evelina nodded. So that was that then. She wasn’t wanted at the hospital, and the nurses all seemed to have an opinion about her. Even the doctor had seemed less than impressed about having to treat her, his scowl of disapproval and dismissive way of speaking to her impossible to ignore.

‘Please would you write down the name and address of this house?’ she’d asked politely.

At which the nurse had looked immensely relieved and left the room to find paper, while Evelina had trembled on the bed and tried not to cry, the emotion clogging deep in her throat as she realised the decision she was going to have to make. Curse you, Antoine!

Now, Evelina blinked away fresh tears as she decided to cross the road, forcing herself to lift her hand and knock at the door. Thankfully it opened within seconds, not giving her the chance to run away.

The woman who opened it appeared to be a similar age to Evelina, which was the first surprise. She was wearing a simple wool dress, her hair pulled back and piled on top of her head, and she had the kindest expression that Evelina had ever seen.

The second surprise came when she spoke, and Evelina recognised her soft, almost impossible to detect Paris accent.

‘I was hoping you’d decide to knock. It was awful looking out and seeing you standing there in the cold. Please, come in.’

So she’d been watching me . Evelina shifted, nervous all over again, but when the woman held out her hand and took hers, the warmth of her palm comforting against Evelina’s ice-cold skin, she immediately stepped inside.

When the door closed behind her, she paused for a moment, but the woman seemed not to notice how nervous she was, or if she did, she certainly didn’t show it.

‘My name is Hope,’ she said, as she walked ahead of Evelina down the hall, into a warm kitchen with a fire going in the hearth. It smelt like her mother’s kitchen at home, with something bubbling on the stovetop and the smell of baking lingering. Evelina could have closed her eyes and seen her sisters darting in and out, little hands extended to steal a rare biscuit that was usually baked on a Sunday after church.

‘I’m Evelina,’ she said, clearing her throat and moving to sit in the chair closest to the fire when Hope gestured for her to do so.

‘Is that a French accent I detect?’ Hope asked, in French, as if testing to see whether Evelina could understand her.

Evelina nodded. ‘It is,’ she replied, in her native tongue.

‘I’ve only been in London a short while myself. My mother was English, but my father was French, so I grew up in France,’ Hope said. ‘I miss being able to converse in my language, so you’re a breath of fresh air for me today.’

Evelina felt more settled listening to Hope speak, knowing they at least had a shared heritage in common. She also liked that Hope immediately busied herself, putting water on to boil and taking out coffee instead of the dreaded English tea that she still wasn’t used to, rather than questioning her or making her feel uncomfortable.

‘How far along are you, Evelina? Or are you not sure?’ Hope smiled. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to work out the exact timings, so please don’t worry if that’s the case.’

‘I think I’m eight months,’ she said, rubbing her hands together as they tingled from the warmth flowing back through her body. Hope was already so different to the nurses in the hospital, who seemed to expect her to know the exact day the baby was conceived. She’d wanted to scream at them that she and Antoine had made love every night they were together, and that she had very little idea of when precisely she’d become pregnant.

‘Did the hospital send you here to me?’

‘Yes,’ she said, before thanking Hope for the coffee that she put in front of her. She placed milk in a little jug between them before sitting down with her.

‘The reason I started this place was to help women who were made to feel unwelcome, for whatever reason, at the hospital or by their families,’ Hope said, and Evelina watched as she wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, glancing down at it before finally looking up at her. ‘I’m horrified that women are treated so badly, often because of circumstances they can’t help, and I want to provide a kind, safe home here for any pregnant woman who might need me. My only worry was that the hospital wouldn’t recommend my services, sending young women to the convent instead, where the church gives very little choice to the mothers in their care.’

‘They said you find new parents for the babies, and that you care for women until the birth?’

Hope smiled. ‘I can, if that’s what the mother wants. But I’ll be honest with you, Evelina,’ she paused. ‘You’re the first woman to knock at my door, so this is as new to me as it is to you.’

Evelina took a sip of her coffee, studying Hope. ‘You’ve never done this before?’

‘I’ve only recently moved here and opened up,’ Hope said. ‘I didn’t realise how difficult it would be to share my house with the community, to get support from those who should be helping women, but who, sadly, are coercing them into making specific choices rather than offering them real support. It seems that no one wants to talk about unwanted pregnancies, even though it’s something that happens frequently to women and girls from all types of families.’

‘I never thought I’d have to give her up,’ Evelina said, staring down into her coffee so Hope wouldn’t see her tears. ‘I thought I’d start a new life here, that it would be easy to find a home to rent, to establish myself…’

She was surprised when Hope leaned across the table, her hand covering Evelina’s.

‘There’s nothing easy about being pregnant and alone, and this war isn’t going to make things any easier, unfortunately. But what I can tell you is that you’re safe here, and we can sit here all day and talk if that’s what you want.’

‘I imagined raising her on my own,’ Evelina whispered, hearing how feeble she sounded, how unrealistic that thought had been. ‘I have money, but it’s running out fast, and?—’

‘You thought the father might change his mind?’ Hope asked, gently. ‘That perhaps the two of you might have had a chance together?’

Evelina looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘Yes.’ It was the truth; she had thought that Antoine might change his mind, and then when he hadn’t, she’d foolhardily thought that she didn’t need him or any other man. She would never, ever forgive herself for the decisions she’d made.

‘You’re welcome to stay here with me for as long as you want, Evelina,’ Hope said. ‘Whether that’s a week or a month, whether you choose to have your baby here or not, but what I can promise you is that you’ll be safe and cared for, and so will your baby.’

‘What if I don’t want to give her up after she’s born?’

Hope reached for her again, holding her hand. ‘Then you don’t have to. I established this house to give women choices, and it will be your choice, yours alone, whether you want to keep your baby and care for her, or you want me to find a family for her.’

Evelina nodded, swallowing away the lump of emotion in her throat. ‘I can trust you?’ she asked.

Hope squeezed her hand. ‘You can. I’m dedicating my life to mothers and babies, and it would be a privilege for you to be my first guest.’

‘When do I have to decide? Whether I want to stay or not, and whether I want to…’

‘Put your baby up for adoption?’ Hope asked gently.

Evelina couldn’t hold back her tears then. They flowed down her cheeks as a sob erupted from deep inside of her.

‘Shhh,’ Hope said, moving her chair to sit beside her and holding her in her arms, her hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. ‘You don’t have to decide anything until you’re ready. I’ll make one of the beds up for you, just in case, so that you know you have a place here to return to.’

‘Why?’ Evelina murmured through her tears. ‘Why are you being so kind to me?’

There was a long silence as Hope continued to hold her, before she spoke, her voice lower than it had been before. ‘Because I’ve been in a similar situation to you, and the way I was treated…’

Evelina’s body shuddered as she fought to get her emotions under control.

‘I have my own personal reasons for doing what I’m doing,’ Hope said, her voice stronger, more resolute than it had been before. ‘But unlike many others helping women in need, I understand what it’s like to be treated as if I’m somehow worthless because of circumstances outside of my control.’

Evelina sat up and cleared her throat, her eyes meeting Hope’s, as something unspoken passed between them. Hope didn’t need to say anything more for Evelina to trust her.

‘If it’s not an inconvenience, I’d very much like to return with my things this evening,’ Evelina said.

Hope’s smile warmed her in a way that she hadn’t experienced since she’d last been with her sisters, tucked up together in bed to stave off the cold in the middle of winter, whispering stories to them well into the night to try to get them to fall asleep.

‘I’d very much like that, Evelina,’ Hope said. ‘How about we finish our coffee and I show you around the house? Then you can organise your affairs and we can make up your room together.’

Evelina had a feeling that for the first time in many years, she was placing her trust in the right person. She’d spent years trusting men and being left heartbroken, but something about the way Hope had spoken before told her that she’d made mistakes, too, and that she had no intention of any woman in her care being let down like she had, not if she could help it.

‘Now, tell me all about where you’re from, Evelina,’ Hope said, settling back into her chair and reaching for her coffee again. ‘I’d forgotten just how much I missed France until you walked through my door.’

For the first time in years, Evelina relaxed into her chair, smiled and remembered home. She might have disagreed with her father and been disappointed in her mother’s actions, but she had such fond memories of her sisters and being with them. But talking about them kept them alive in her mind, even if it did break her heart that they’d never chosen to join her in Paris.

A week later, and Evelina felt as if she’d been with Hope for months. They’d settled into a comfortable routine, and Evelina was finally able to enjoy her pregnancy. She alternated between smiling and crying every time she felt a kick, her hand always reaching to touch her stomach, imagining what her baby would look like when she was born. She was convinced it was a girl, and dreamed of holding her in her arms and staring into her eyes, naming her and kissing her downy little head. But every time she did, her smiles would turn to sorrow, and she’d be reminded of just how hard it would be to keep her. Today, they were sitting in the garden, enjoying a moment of sunshine, when Hope turned to Evelina.

‘Have you had any more thoughts about what you’re going to do?’ Hope asked.

Evelina looked up at the sky, wishing it wasn’t a conversation they needed to have, but knowing that Hope only had her best interests at heart. ‘I know what I should do, but it doesn’t mean it’s what I want to do.’

‘I was thinking that you could leave something behind for her, if that’s what you decide,’ Hope said. She’d taken to referring to the baby as a girl, too, and Evelina liked how familiar Hope was with her, as if they were family. ‘I’ve had some little boxes made, just big enough for a few mementos to be tucked away for safekeeping.’

She immediately thought about what she could leave behind. ‘Would you give it to her, if she were adopted?’

‘I was thinking it would go with her, to her new family, so they could share it with her one day when she was older,’ Hope said. ‘Perhaps one or two things that mean something to you.’

Evelina stared down at her stomach, stretched so wide now that even the maternity-sized dress she was wearing was almost too tight for her. What would she leave? Something to give her child a glimpse of who her mother was, or something that could one day lead her to find her?

‘Is that something you’d want to do?’ Hope asked.

‘Yes,’ Evelina replied. ‘I just can’t think what I’d put in there for her.’

‘Well, you still have plenty of time to decide. If I were you, I’d just leave a little memento she can cherish, but don’t feel you have to. It’s just something for you to think about.’

Evelina watched as Hope rose and went over to one of the drawers in the kitchen. Hope opened one and then returned with a small wooden box in her hand.

‘This is what I had made,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about how hard it is, the decision to part with a child, but perhaps if every mother has the choice of leaving a little something behind, it might provide a connection? It might even make saying goodbye that much easier.’

‘May I?’ Evelina asked, curious about Hope’s suggestion.

Hope passed her the box and she turned it over, back and forth, in her hands. Her fingers glided over the wood, and she found herself rubbing her fingertips across the top of it. She could tell how well it had been made, and she could already imagine her daughter being given the box when she was older, eyes wide as she realised she’d been given something from the past.

‘I think it’s a beautiful idea, Hope, truly I do,’ Evelina said. ‘Do you mind if I keep this one? I’d like to hold it and think about what to put inside.’

‘Of course, consider it yours.’

Hope smiled at her then, and she smiled back. Because just like that, Hope had given her something to focus on other than her pregnancy. This was something she could do for the future, and perhaps if she was thoughtful enough about what she put in the box, her daughter might one day be able to find her.

She began to think of all the things she could leave for her, things small enough to fit in the little box. If she were brave enough to explain her decision, perhaps it could be a letter, but she knew that even if she had months in which to prepare, she could never put into words the reasons for her choice.

Evelina’s fingers closed again over the smooth edges of the box. They had to be clues that told her story, that showed who she was and what was important to her. And that was when she stilled, a small smile touching her lips as she gently rubbed her stomach and realised precisely what she should leave behind.