7July! This cant be a coincidence. And the name Andrew. Different middle name, different surname. Its as if an adoption could rewrite a patronymic, a family name even the first name. She stared at the portrait for a long moment, as if hoping to recognise something familiar.
In the humanresources office of Harlington Town Council, Anna Anderson signed the paperwork for a new employee. She then called out:
MsVera, could you come in here? Your new colleague is waiting.
A few minutes later Vera stepped into the office and, without missing a beat, addressed the woman who looked decades older than herself:
Are you the new cleaner?
Yes, Vera replied.
Im the caretaker, Anna Anderson, the senior said, introducing herself. And you are?
Vera, she corrected, seeing the unspoken question in Annas eyes. Vera Alexander.
Come on, Ill show you your workstation, Anna said, leading them out of the office while they continued to chat. Youll be on the whole third floor
***
Vera felt a surge of relief at landing the job. She smiled brightly, scanning her new domain:
Only two years left until retirement, and I could even keep working after that. £8,000 a month plus occasional bonuses that should see David and me through. The kids are grown and have moved out. I cant even remember the mayors name! Itll be mortifying if someone asks. Lunch is soon; theres a photo wall of every mayor on the ground floor. How could I have missed that?
***
On her way back from the canteen she passed a display and read the mayors name: Andrew Barton, born 1983.
Ah, hes still a youngster. Not even forty yet, the thought flickered through Veras mind, and a memory resurfaced. Andrew? 1983?
She turned back, reading the birthdate again:
7July! This cant be a coincidence. And the name Andrew. Different middle name, different surname. Its as if an adoption could rewrite a patronymic, a family name even the first name.
She stared at the portrait for a long moment, hoping to see something familiar.
***
The new job pushed stray thoughts to the background. That evening she talked at length with her husband, then he retreated to his room to watch football while Vera slipped into hers.
Their threebedroom house felt spacious now that the children had left. The husband still shared the bed with Vera, but less and less often.
Lying alone, the night filled her mind with thoughts of youth and a secret she had never disclosed to her husband.
She had a son once, named Andrew. She was nineteen then, penniless, without work. The dormitory from her trade college was never meant for a child. She managed to keep him for only six months before placing him in a childrens home.
Three years later she married David. Neither ever asked about the years before the wedding. Soon their two daughters arrived. The older went to university in the county town, got married there, and now has schoolage grandchildren. The younger married and lives in London.
Vera never obtained a professional qualification. For the past twenty years she worked as a caretaker in a factory workshop until the plant went bust and the staff were let go. Then a friends daughter offered her a cleaning post at the council. She accepted.
Now the mayor, Andrew Barton, was born in 1983. No, Vera didnt complain about her life, but the memory of the son shed given up haunted her. He visited her in dreams a few times. She just wanted to be sure he was alive and well.
***
A few days later, while sweeping her floor, voices erupted from the hallway. Andrew Barton strode past, deep in conversation with a colleague. He glanced at Vera, nodded, and continued on, still talking.
In that instant a young man named Victor, the boy Vera had fallen in love with forty years ago, flashed through her mind. He had been handsome and lively, and she had always imagined him older, serious, businesslike. Seeing Andrew, she realised that was exactly the version of Victor shed once wanted.
Victor had left when he learned Vera was pregnant, promising to earn money elsewhere. She had waited, then realized hed simply run away.
Could that mayor be my son? If I hadnt given him up to the childrens home, would he be different? My daughters have thriving lives the elder married, owns a spacious flat and a car; the younger is also wellsettled. But I have no son.
She wondered whether she would have married David if shed kept Andrew. The whole course of their lives might have been altered. Or perhaps Andrew Barton wasnt her son at all could there be such an extraordinary coincidence?
It matters not, she thought. He has parents now; he was only six months old when he was placed. Those parents may never have told him the truth. His childhood, by all accounts, was happy. Its rare for an ordinary lad to become mayor.
***
After lunch, a young colleague, Olivia, approached Vera.
Hi, Aunt Vera!
Hello!
Were throwing a birthday for Lucy on Friday. She cleans the sixth floor and turns fortyfive. Will you join us?
Of course! Vera beamed.
Thatll be £200 for the cake and a bit of something special.
Alright, Vera handed over the money from her purse.
Dont be formal, just call me Vera. Were all coworkers here.
Will do, Vera!
***
Friday evening, the staff gathered on the seventh floor after work. One office was empty, so they set up a table, laid out plates, and began the customary toasts, each accompanied by a sip of red wine.
The door swung open and in walked Mayor Andrew Barton, smiling.
Lucy OLeary, happy birthday! he announced, handing her a small box. A little present.
Thank you, Mayor, Lucy said, tears glistening.
Andrew, please join us, Anna urged, the caretaker.
Just for a moment, he replied, taking a seat beside Vera.
She placed a fresh salad and slices of ham on a clean plate, poured wine into glasses, and listened as the mayor raised his toast.
Veras eyes never left him; a tremor ran through her. She no longer doubted: this was her son.
Andrew lingered for about twenty minutes, said his goodbyes, and left.
What a character! said Katherine, the longestserving employee, who knew everyones business. Even the former mayor thought hed stay a while.
Has Andrew been here long? Vera asked.
About a year. Remember we elected him last year?
Vera shook her head; David had always made the decisions for her.
Everyone knows his parents are wealthy, wellconnected, Katherine continued. But do you know they arent his real parents?
Really? Lucy gasped.
It came out two years ago when he was prepping for the election. He never seemed to notice. He just carries on.
Where did you hear that? Vera pressed.
The former mayors deputy, Olivia Parker, gathered all the files on Andrew. She wanted her boss to stay in power, but the old mayors allies lost the vote.
So he doesnt know who his parents are? Vera asked, voice trembling.
Seems not. He loves the people who raised him. As mayor, hes a decent man.
Vera Alexander stared at the office door where Andrew had just sat. Joy and sorrow warred inside herjoy that her son was doing well, sorrow that she could never hold him. She whispered to herself:
I wont trouble you, my boy. Ill always be near, in spirit.
The scene faded, leaving the hum of the councils evening chatter echoing through the hall.
