Page 32 of The Hidden Daughter (The Lost Daughters #7)

Amalie had spent all night lying awake, thinking about what Hope had said to her, trying to work out what she could do to find another way that didn’t involve giving up her baby.

And now she was sitting in her nightgown, her hair wild and long around her shoulders, pen in hand as she tried to compose what could be the most important letter she might ever write.

Just write what’s in your heart. Beg if you have to.

She exhaled and pressed the pen to the paper, trying to believe that once she started, the right words would come. The more she tried to straighten them out in her head, the more jumbled they became, and so Amalie decided to trust her instincts.

Dear Mrs Johansen,

It was with great sadness that I learnt of the passing of your son, Oskar, on his way to London. Please, if you are thinking of throwing this letter in the fire, I implore you to keep reading.

I understand that I was never the woman you imagined your son marrying, but I want you to know that I fell in love with Oskar the very first day we met.

He caught my eye one summer’s night, and he saw past my shyness and showed me what it was to fall in love.

Your son was full of dreams, full of happiness and light, and the world has lost a beautiful man who would have made a wonderful husband to me, and father to our unborn child.

We discovered I was pregnant at the end of summer, which is why we came to see you that day in Oslo.

We were to be married as soon as he arrived in London, a small ceremony, in the hope that by the time we eventually came home to Norway, you would accept not only our union, but also your first grandchild.

So, I write to you, one mother to another, to beg for your mercy.

I am due to give birth to your grandchild, to Oskar’s baby, next month, and it breaks my heart to think I will have to give the child up soon after the birth.

Your son loved me as much as I loved him, and he was so looking forward to being a father, and I have no doubt he would have been a great one.

I will write the address below where you can reach me.

I’ll be here until two weeks after I give birth, so it will be for at least another two months, if not more.

Although I cannot imagine handing my baby over to strangers, I must either choose adoption or poverty if I am to make this decision alone.

If your son had survived, this would have been the happiest time of my life, but instead, the grief of losing my child is matched only by the grief I suffered, am still suffering, over my beloved Oskar’s death.

I thank you for taking the time to read my letter.

Yours faithfully, Amalie

She finished the letter and folded it, sliding it inside an envelope and writing the address on the front. Amalie was just brushing away her tears when there was a soft knock at the door.

‘Amalie?’

‘Come in,’ she replied.

Hope had shown her a kindness that she hadn’t expected, and when she came in to sit beside her, her arm went around Amalie’s shoulders, giving her a small squeeze. ‘You wrote the letter?’

‘I wrote the letter,’ she whispered back. ‘I don’t know if I’ve said the right thing or whether she will even answer, but at least I’ve tried.’

‘Grief can change people. I’ve seen it first hand, so if your Oskar’s mother is struggling with his passing, it might make her more inclined to help.’

Amalie sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘Or it could make her hate me all the more.’

Hope sighed and squeezed her again. ‘It could. But you won’t know until you send that letter and wait for a reply. Would you like me to post it today for you?’

Amalie nodded. ‘Please. And if there’s anything I can do to repay you, for what you’ve already done for me—’

‘There is nothing,’ Hope said firmly. ‘I do this because I want to, because life has taught me that women aren’t treated with the kindness and love they deserve when faced with the most difficult decision of their lives. So don’t you spend a moment trying to think of how to repay me.’

‘What will I do if she doesn’t reply? If they don’t offer to help me?’ Amalie asked. If I’m truly all alone?

‘You have time,’ Hope said. ‘This baby won’t be here for another month at least, and we can work out a plan together.

Maybe that plan is adoption, finding a lovely family who’re desperate for a child of their own, or maybe it’s you keeping the baby somehow.

But whatever happens, it will be your decision, Amalie.

No one else can make this decision for you. ’

‘We were supposed to have this beautiful life together,’ Amalie said. ‘It was supposed to be a new beginning in London.’

‘I know,’ Hope said, holding her close as she began to cry. ‘Unfortunately, life doesn’t always work out the way we hoped it would.’

Hope rocked her in her arms until her crying finally stopped, and Amalie had the most overwhelming need to see her mother, to be soothed in her own home, in her own bed, as if she were a girl again.

But her father didn’t want to know about a pregnant unmarried daughter, and although she’d also received a brief note from her mother that was much kinder, she’d told her there was nothing she could do, other than send her a little money she’d been saving.

‘I don’t want to give up this baby, Hope,’ she whispered. ‘With every fibre in my body, I want to be a mother, and I know that Oskar would have wanted me to fight for our child.’

‘Then fight,’ Hope said. ‘This letter is your first step, but it doesn’t have to be your last.’

The next day, Hope wrote to her mother again, and to her sister as well.

Her sister was already married and Amalie thought there might have been a chance that she would agree to raise the baby as her own, which would have allowed Amalie to at least be her loving aunt as she grew up.

But she knew there was nothing more that she could do than ask, and now she just had to wait to see who might respond.

And while she waited, Amalie dedicated herself to helping Hope, knowing that the only way to keep from wallowing in her grief was to stay busy.

She aired out the empty upstairs bedrooms and washed and folded laundry.

She hung rugs outside and beat the dust out of them, wiped down every inch of the house, and then when there was nothing left inside to clean, she moved on to the garden.

‘Amalie,’ Hope said, one night as they sat outside and enjoyed a cup of tea. ‘I think it’s time for you to rest. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the help, my house has never been so clean, but you might hurry this baby along if you don’t sit down.’

‘You think the baby might come early?’

‘I think,’ Hope said, ‘that her mama needs to put her feet up and remember that she’s with child. But yes, sometimes if a woman does too much, it makes the baby come early.’

Amalie sat with that for a moment, realising what that would mean for her, if she didn’t have as much time as she’d thought.

‘I still haven’t heard back from his mother,’ she said.

‘I know, but there’s still time.’

Her sister had written back telling her she was sorry and wished she could do more, but that she’d found out she was pregnant herself, and she couldn’t imagine explaining how she had two babies born less than six months apart.

Amalie had tried to understand, but she’d known in her heart that if the situation was reversed, she’d have taken her sister’s child in a heartbeat to make sure she stayed within the family.

‘We should look for a nice family, just in case,’ Amalie said, words she’d never thought she’d utter. ‘If I can’t find a way to keep her, if—’

‘Amalie, I have more than one family who’d adopt your baby tomorrow if they could, but we don’t need to talk about that today,’ Hope said, reaching over and patting her hand. ‘Today, we’re just going to sit here and admire how well you trimmed those shrubs.’

They both laughed, and this time it was Amalie placing her hand over Hope’s. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘You have nothing to thank me for.’

But Hope was wrong. She had everything to thank her for—for giving her a roof over her head, for her kindness, for her sage words of advice.

‘Is it foolish to believe that I might be able to do this alone?’

‘Foolish? No. You’re already a mother, Amalie—from the moment you feel that child moving in your belly, you’re a mother,’ Hope said. ‘And mothers know best. So, if you think you can do this on your own, then I don’t doubt you for a second.’

They sat a while longer, and once they’d finished their tea, she turned to her. ‘You know who I didn’t think of until now?’ she said.

Hope’s eyebrows arched in question.

‘Alexander. Oskar’s brother.’ Amalie remembered the kindness he’d shown her, how he was so similar to his brother in all the ways that counted, or at least, that’s what she’d seen in their first meeting together.

‘Do you think he might help you?’ Hope asked.

‘I think it’s worth asking him. For all I know, he doesn’t even know what’s happened to me. Perhaps he’d consider helping me financially, just enough to get me on my feet.’

‘Well, I’d suggest writing to him then. Like I told you the first time, it’s only a letter, and you can but ask.’

‘The worst that can happen is that he says no,’ she said, repeating what Hope had told her.

‘Exactly. But at least you’ll know you tried.’

Amalie sat a little longer as Hope cleared their teacups and disappeared inside. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of Alexander sooner.

‘Here,’ Hope said, placing a fresh sheet of writing paper and a pen on the table beside her. ‘You write the letter, I’ll post it in the morning.’

Amalie leaned into her as Hope embraced her, and the moment Hope let go, Amalie picked up the pen and began to write. She decided not to hold back, to pour her heart out on the page, knowing that this might be her only chance.

Dear Alexander,

We only met once, but it was enough to leave a lasting impression on me, as you were so like my beloved Oskar.

But Oskar is gone now, and I find myself only weeks away from having his baby, alone and scared in London.

We’d planned a life together, and now I’m left with few choices about what to do next.

If I’m honest, I don’t know what I’m asking of you. All I know is that I need your help. I want to raise my baby and honour Oskar, to never let his memory fade, to keep part of him alive through our child. But I cannot do it alone.

Please, for the love of your brother, can you help me? I will be forever grateful if you can find it in your heart to enable me to keep this baby, and love it with every fibre of my being.

Yours faithfully, Amalie

Now all she had to do was wait.