Advertisement: I'm looking for a beta! Anyone who is open to being my new friend, let me know!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, never have and never will.
Chapter One - Cokeworth, 21 September 1959
Much effort was going into rebranding the city of Cokeworth, with a significant portion of the city finances being dedicated to positive advertisement. The papers ran spiffy profiles, embellishing details of a suburban paradise with a picturesque city centre on the banks of a pristine river. The radios spoke enticingly of a safe landscape unmarred by the devastating effects of the war, but with a long patriotic history contributing to the country's economy. Real estate agents were paid handsomely to talk positively of the new terraced brick houses that formed street after street, to emphasise the importance of the mansions up on the hill, and to gloss over the rickety old houses of Spinner's End down the stream.
Much of this advertisement was done in effort to dispel the notion of class… No longer was Cokeworth a handful of wealthy people looking down on the impoverished masses… Now it was a handful of wealthy people whose view of those impoverished masses was obstructed by a charming hamlet of slightly less wealthy and slightly less poor families. Perhaps the one real way in which the inhabitants of Spinner's End were able to benefit from all this hassle was affordable entertainment. A cinema, three cafes, a shopping street, and small park for the children were built to accompany the terraced brick houses - Cokeworth was now an exemplary specimen of the new British middle-class. There was even a hotel, and though the Railview seemed properly posh, it was doubtful that Cokeworth would ever be a great tourist attraction.
One of the six mansions on the hill was owned by the newly married Florence and Ellis Greenway. Ellis was the son of wealthy traders, and Florence was a midwife by trade. Florence was nearly two decades younger than Ellis, but was on any normal occasion very much in love with her husband. Every morning she took care to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, every afternoon she plucked him fresh flowers from their garden, and every evening she made sure to welcome him to bed with open arms. Now, however, she was quite cross with him.
They had spent the morning at the doctor's office, where Dr Turner had told them the most terrible news. In lieu of a childhood bout of tuberculosis, Florence was unable to have children of her own. Florence was devastated but undeterred - there were other options available, and not only did she know it, but she was going to take full advantage of it. Ellis, on the other hand, was having more trouble with their predicament. It was all they could discuss as they made their way back home.
'We could adopt,' he argued, 'Eventually. Not now. We should still try for ourselves.' Florence tried her best not to roll her eyes. She hurried up her pace just slightly. Ellis, who walked with a limp, struggled to keep up.
'I'm not capable of having children, Ellis. Or were you not listening to Dr Turner?'
'Of course I was listening, darling! But the old man has been wrong before. Or did you not hear of Dahlia Manning's miscarriage? It was all his fault, she says.'
'Dahlia Manning's says a lot of things.' Florence narrowed her eyes mistrustfully. 'Why are we talking of Dahlia Manning all of a sudden?'
Jealousy was a feeling with which Florence was well acquainted. She had met Ellis when she was taking care of one of his neighbours, an elderly woman with terminal cancer. He was, at the time, married and had just become father to a little son, Rupert. She had quickly fallen for his dry wit, abundant charm, and his refined manners. Her feelings had only been further consolidated when she became aware of his strict work ethic, and his sense of duty. Duty had, in fact, been the only thing that had kept Ellis and his first wife together. Duty towards his marriage vows, duty to his son… Ellis was raised from a young age to value these things. But they all went out the window as soon as he met the much younger Florence. He wasted no further time in divorcing his wife, and he married Florence barely four months later. Had his parents been there to witness it, they would surely have cut him off, and neglected his new wife completely. Luckily for Ellis, his parents had perished from old age a decade earlier, and he was free to enjoy both his vast fortune and his young bride.
How strong is his loyalty to me? Wondered Florence. She loved Ellis with all her heart, and knew he loved her just as much. But a man's affections were fickle. She knew this very well - it is the very reason her mother had to raise her and her sickly little sister, Tilly, all on her own.
Does he think I'm broken? Ellis already had a son, a son he rarely saw because of her. And now she would deny him another true born? Adopting a child was not ideal, she knew. All around her, the women of Cokeworth were moving into their new terraced houses with swelling bellies and glowing complexions. Not a single one of them was going to need to adopt, thought Florence glumly as she walked. She felt the tears welling behind her eyes. A little boy or girl with her green eyes and Ellis' riotous brown curls. That is always what she had envisioned. Now that vision would never come to pass.
'I'm sorry,' sniffed Florence. This was unlike her, to cry over such things. It was even less like her to start provoking her husband, though. 'I just want a child. And now tat I can't have any of our own… Please. Just consider it.'
Ellis slowed his pace and turned to look at her, eyes soft. He was just about to open his mouth to reply when they heard something coming from the bushes. Startled, they looked towards where the noise was coming from. Nothing. Florence glanced quizzically at the offending greenery and took her husband's hand, tugging it forward. They were just about to start walking again when they heard it once more, a faint noise that was just sharp enough to cut through what was otherwise a regular suburban quietness.
'Perhaps it is an animal,' reasoned Florence. Her instincts as midwife came forth. 'Maybe it is hurt. Let me check.' She moved despite her husband's distressed calls to stay back.
When she had cleared away some of the branches, she gasped in shock at what she saw. What she heard hadn't been the cries of a distressed animal. They were the distressed calls of an infant, who was lying in a puddle of its own urine and covered in an iridescent sort of material.
'Holy smokes,' she cried out. 'Ellis, we must contact the authorities. Someone has left their child!' Ellis limped his way to his wife, swearing uncharacteristically foul when he saw the abandoned child.
'I'll go to ask to use the Burns' phone down the road,' said Ellis, referring to the last house they passed. There was a panicked quality to his voice, and Florence immediately knew why. It was only a ten minute walk to the Burns house, but with Ellis' limp it would take at least twice as long.
'No need,' she offered, 'I'll go. You stay with the baby.' To Ellis' dismay, she bent down and picked up the baby and placed it in his arms, giving him a small, worried smile.
'All right,' said Ellis, holding the baby awkwardly, 'Just hurry up. She feels frightfully cold.' Florence nodded tersely and started running down the street. Ellis shrugged off his coat so that covered the baby, who cooed weakly. She does feel frightfully cold, he thought. It was not the coldest September day that he'd ever come across, but it the babe looked to be no more than a couple of days old. He let his eyes scan the baby. The iridescent material was sand, he realised, mixed with tiny shards of glass. It was lucky none of the glass had hurt the babe. The babe itself looked to be well fed, and had a headful of shiny, curly brown locks. It was wearing a blue an red checkered romper with a strange little creature on it, but most interestingly, the hospital tag was still around the baby's wrist. Eagerly, Ellis twisted his head to read the lettering.
NAME: GR—R, HERMIONE
ROOM NUMBER: 135
What are the odds, he thought miserably, that the only thing we cannot see is the last name? At the very least he recognised the hospital logo, although it looked slightly different, sleeker, than he remembered. It was the same hospital Florence sometimes sent her patients to if she felt the task was too serious for home visits. Ellis sighed, and the babe opened her eyes. At least, Ellis assumed it was a her. Hermione was Shakespearean, he knew. It was a good name for a babe, one he would have considered himself, had Rupert been a girl.
He took a considering look at the little babe, so small, so vulnerable, in his arms. How easy it would be, just to take her home. But no, he had already made up his mind, adoption was not for him… He smiled softly at the babe as cooed again, and his arms felt empty when the ambulance finally arrived and he had to give her up.
They were given an option, most likely because they were Greenways and everyone gave them options owing to their wealth and their charm. The option was this: take the babe and raise her well, or let the babe go to an orphanage two towns over. And, if they were to choose the latter, would they please come to the orphanage for a photo for the newspaper? T'would help the poor orphans, sir and ma'am. A difficult decision for any family - or perhaps not at all, who is to say? - it was a particularly sore topic for the Greenways.
'I don't want to adopt some waif, Florence,' said Ellis. His voice was strained, and Florence had never seen him so exhausted. 'I have a son, whom I love, and whom I never see because I decided loving you was more important. But this… this is asking too much.'
Florence stilled, wondering what she should do. Not once in her marriage so far had she been forced to take a stand against her husband. Up till now she had always found a way to acclimate herself to Ellis' way of doing things, pretending to understand his motivations. But she couldn't even fool herself into believing she understood him on this issue. 'Where is this coming from?' She asked. She wondered how long he had been feeling this way, if this was a new development, or if she had been misreading the signs. She needed to know, but had a sinking feeling she wouldn't like the truth. 'The doctor said I'm not to have any children of my own, and I have accepted that… Even so, I have never, never, accepted the thought of never having any children at all… There was always going to be a Hermione, Ellis. I thought you knew that. I thought you wanted that.' Ellis was quiet for a long time, and a dreadful realisation came over Florence.
'Except you didn't want that her in the eyes as he broke it.
'You've never wanted children. That's why you didn't fight Jemima when she took Rupert away… All that fake, self lauding gallantry you spout whenever the topic of your son comes up… Bloody hell,' she cursed, wiping angry tears from her eyes. 'You leaving was the best thing that could have happened to that boy, but now I am the one who is stuck with you and I'll be damned if you keep me from taking in that little girl.'
At this Ellis felt his anger rising. 'That's unfair,' he said, trying his best not to shout the words. 'I love Rupert and I hate that I can't see him every day. Me not wanting to adopt does not mean that I have been sabotaging you! Listen to yourself!'
'Then why don't you want her? She's all alone, Ellis. We can make it better for her, give her a home!'
'And what,' bit out Ellis, loosing all sense of composure, 'about when she'll want to find her real parents? What about when she leaves us like I had to leave Rupert?'
Florence seemed to melt at his words. 'Is that what you're worried about?' She let out a huff of a laugh, disbelieving of the direction that this conversation was taking. 'I understand that you feel like you owe something, Ellis. I understand that you miss Rupert. I do, I really, really do. But you have another chance, and as long as we love that girl as much as we can, she's not going to abandon us for someone who left her in the bushes. Do you understand, Ellis?'
Ellis nodded. He thought of the babe he had held in his hand for those minutes, about the babe he had to keep warm because she was not yet able to do so herself. He felt himself softening, felt himself lose all his resolve.
'Alright?' prompted Florence.
'Alright,' agreed Ellis.
That was how Hermione Greenway came to be, and that is how our story begins.
Chapter Notes:
I once read a post on Tumblr which posed the following question: Why do writers act like it is the end of the world for a woman to be told she is unable to have children? It made me think very hard on how this story starts, which is the same way the story has always started, even in the previous two versions of it. The short answer to this dilemma, of course, is that it does not matter. Women are no longer defined by their ability to have children (this too is arguable, but in this case I shall act as though this is the case), not when there are so many options. It would be weak for me to argue that this doesn't matter because Florence is facing this dilemma in the 50s, and opinions in the 50s regarding this matter were different than the opinions expressed in 2018. While it is my aim to create different, unique characters that reflect their circumstances, I am a firm believer that no story I write on this site will ever be more than vague, unpolished reflection of the thoughts I have as I am writing the story. And as I am writing this story, I am of the opinion that while not being able to carry children is indeed not the end of the world, it will always be a blow because it removes a woman's choice. For example, as I am right now, I do not want children. I have never wanted children. But I still would be heartbroken if I were barren, because now, if I ever change my mind, that would still not be an option I could explore. So it would not necessarily be the absence of children I would mourn, but the absence of choice.
This example is, in any case, oversimplified. And the oversimplification such issues get in stories is something that will, to some extent, be explored in my story. So if I have offended anyone with my depiction on issues such as infertility, adoption, and loving a child that did not come from your own self, then I apologise. You are probably right with your concerns, and in reality I understand the situation is much more complex than I could ever express in this fanfic.
General Notes:
This is my third time posting this story, although saying it is my third time would be a kindness, seeing as those two versions were often edited due to sloppy, quick writing.
Honestly, I was kind of done with this story. The reason I stopped writing is inherently connected to the same reason why I published chapters I was not happy with, and which I subsequently kept on editing. I liked reading reviews that praised my work, but was too lazy to put any real work into it. There was no real motivation behind my writing and developing good stories, which is probably why I have only ever finished short one-shots. Since abandoning my stories without explanation, I have often thought about rewriting them, but was never comfortable enough to do so.
On several accounts was this wrong: not only was it rude to the readers, but it was also stopping myself from growing as a writer. On a personal level, I was most disappointed by the latter.
Now I am at a point in my life where I feel as though I want to start writing my own stories (so, original work). I have had a plot line in my head since I was fourteen years old, and have just been sitting on it and sitting on it until both inspiration and skill would strike within me the ability to write something worth a Pulitzer. Obviously, this was never going to happen. So my starting to write fan fiction again is very much a case of me wanting to improve my skills so I can one day apply them to my original work (and win that Pulitzer).
Additionally, you'll be happy to know there is very little chance I will abandon this story because I have already written it. That's right, it is finished. The reasons I am posting one chapter at a time (hopefully once a week) are as follows: firstly, improvement only works through continuous editing, so if there is something that I need to change I can always still do that; secondly, and this is somewhat tied in with the first reason, I am a total whore for reviews, and I know that by holding my story hostage I have a greater chance of receiving the actual feedback I need to improve.
Sorry for the long ass author's notes. I'll keep it limited to this, even though there is still so much more I want to discuss. Check out my profile for some more information I have on character traits and whatnot… Everything is meticulously planned out for this story. Seriously. I have a timeline that goes as far back as 1912.
Feel free to PM me for whatever, I'll try my best to answer.
Reviews are love!
