7July! No way thats a strange coincidence. And the name Andrew, too. Different patronymic, different surname. It feels like an adoption could change a name, even a first name She stared at the portrait, hoping some familiar feature would flash back.
In the HR office of Manchester City Council, Ivy Anderson was finalising the paperwork for a new hire. She picked up the phone and said,
Emma, could you pop into my office? Weve got the new staff member here.
A few minutes later Emma slipped into the tiny office, already looking a bit weary.
Youre the new cleaner? Ivy asked, sliding a stack of forms across the desk.
Yes, Emma replied.
Im the head of housekeeping Ivy Anderson, the senior lady introduced herself, then turned to the newcomer. And you are?
Emma blinked at the steady gaze of her boss, then steadied herself. Emma Clarke, maam.
Right, come on, Ill show you where youll be working, Ivy said, leading her down the hallway. Your floor is the whole third level.
***
Emma felt a warm surge of relief at landing the job. She smiled, glancing around the modest office and thinking out loud,
Just two years to retirement, and I could even keep going after that. The pays about £8,000 a month, plus occasional bonuses. With David, well manage. The kids are grown and off on their own. I cant even remember the mayors name! Id be embarrassed if someone asked. Lunch is coming up theres a wall of photographs of every mayor on the ground floor. How did I never notice that?
***
On her way back from the staff canteen, Emma paused by the display board and read the mayors name: Andrew Bartholomew, born 7July1983.
Hes barely forty, she mused, a flicker of memory sparking. Andrew 1983.
She turned the plaque over, reading the date again, and the words from the portrait beneath the photo echoed in her head:
7July! No way thats a strange coincidence. And the name Andrew, too. Different patronymic, different surname. It feels like an adoption could change a name, even a first name
She stared at the painted gentleman for a long moment, as if hoping to spot a familiar face.
***
The new job settled in, and the strange thoughts drifted to the back of her mind. That evening she chatted with her husband over the kitchen table, then each went off to watch their own programmes him football, her a documentary. Their threebedroom house felt emptier now that the kids had moved out. David still shared the bed sometimes, but less and less.
Lying in her own room, Emmas mind wandered back to her youth and a secret shed never been able to share. Shed once had a baby boy, named Andrew, when she was nineteen. No money, no steady work just a cramped student hall that wasnt meant for a child. She managed only six months before handing the little one over to a childrens home.
Three years later she married David. They never spoke about what happened before the wedding. Soon they had two daughters. The older went to university in Leeds and got married there, with grandchildren now in primary school. The younger settled in London after marrying.
Emma never got a professional qualification. For the past twenty years shed been a caretaker in a factory workshop. When the plant went bust, everyone was made redundant. Thats when her friends daughter, Lucy, offered her a cleaning job at the council. She took it, and now here she was.
And now the mayor, Andrew Bartholomew, born in 83, was the man shed been cleaning for. Emma didnt complain about her life, but the memory of her son resurfaced now and then, sometimes even in dreams. She just wanted to know if that boy was still out there, happy and safe.
***
A few days later, as Emma was sweeping the thirdfloor corridor, she heard a familiar voice. Mayor Bartholomew was strolling past, chatting with a couple of clerks. He glanced at her, gave a quick nod, and kept walking.
The sight of him brought back a flash of a boy shed loved forty years ago Victor, the lanky lad shed once dreamed of marrying, serious and businesslike. Back then Victor had left the country for work as soon as he learned Emma was pregnant, promising to return. Shed waited, hoped, then finally realised hed simply vanished.
Could it be? Emma whispered to herself. Is this my Andrew? If I hadnt given him up, would he be a different person? My daughters are doing fine the older married, lives in a big flat with a car, the youngers also settled. But theres no son.
She wondered whether marrying David had been the only path, or if everything would have turned out differently for all of them. Maybe the mayor wasnt her son after all. Maybe the world is full of odd coincidences.
She thought, Even if he isnt my blood, hes had a good childhood. He was an orphan at six months, raised by loving parents who probably never told him the truth. Hes happy enough to be mayor thats more than most guys get.
***
After lunch, a younger colleague, Olivia, popped by.
Hey, Aunt Emma!
Hi, Olivia!
Were throwing a birthday on Friday for Lucy, shes on the sixth floor. Shes turning fortyfive. You coming?
Of course! Emma grinned.
Its two hundred pounds for the cake and a quirky little salad or something.
No problem, Emma handed over the cash.
Call me Emma, not Aunt, Olivia laughed. Were all mates here.
Will do, Olivia!
***
Friday night, the staff gathered on the seventh floor after work. A spare room was set up, a table covered with snacks and drinks. One by one they raised glasses and made toasts, sipping red wine after each.
The door swung open and Mayor Bartholomew stepped in, smiling.
Happy birthday, Lucy! Heres a little something, he handed her a small wrapped box.
Lucys eyes welled up.
Andrew Bartholomew, have a seat with us! the head of housekeeping shouted.
Just for a bit, he replied, pulling up a chair next to Emma.
Emma placed a fresh salad and some slices of ham on the platter, poured wine, and the mayor raised his glass. Emma watched him, feeling a tremor run through her. She could finally see it this was her son, or at least the man who had become a part of her life.
Andrew stayed for about twenty minutes, said his goodbyes, and left.
Now thats a character! said Katherine, the longestserving clerk, who seemed to know everyones business. Even the former mayor never imagined sitting with us.
Has Andrew been here long? Emma asked.
About a year. Remember the election last year? Katherine replied.
Emma shook her head; David usually made the decisions.
You know his parents are welloff, right? Katherine continued. But they arent his biological parents.
What? Thats, Lily, the birthday girl, muttered, surprised.
It came out two years ago when he was prepping for the campaign. He didnt even know. He just took it in stride, Katherine said.
Whered you hear that? Emma pressed.
The former mayors deputy, Olga Palmer, had been digging around, trying to keep the old mans influence alive. In the end, the story leaked when the old council members werent reelected.
Does he know who his real parents are? Emma asked.
Seems not. He loves the people who raised him. As a mayor, hes a decent bloke.
Emma watched the mayors office door close, feeling a mix of joy and melancholy. Joy that the man shed imagined as a child was thriving, and sorrow that she could never hug the boy shed once held. She whispered to herself, I wont bother you, my boy. Ill always be somewhere nearby.
And thats where we leave Emma, still sweeping the corridors, still wondering, still smiling at the odd turns life takes.
Take care, and if you liked this little tale, give it a thumbs up and drop a comment. Cheers!
