The man’s face turned as black as thunder. “What?” he roared. “Pregnant? This… this… man made you pregnant? How could it happen? Where did you meet him?!”

His daughter was inwardly frightened but did her best to remain calm. “I met Paul at work, father,” she said.

“In an architect’s office? Is that why we slaved for you to go through University? What was this man doing there?”

“I was working, Sir,” replied the other man in a low but steady voice, moving closer to the girl.

“Working? Since when has your type got into an architect’s office? Is this what our country has come to? Unless you are the cleaner!”

“Father! Paul is a draughtsman’s assistant! And if he were the cleaner, so what? I love him!” cried the girl.

Her tearful mother covered her mouth with her hand.

“Love him? How can you love a… a… You mean he played about with you, that’s what he did. He tricked you to find a way to stay here.”

Paul took the girl’s hand in his and stepped closer to her father. “Sir, I came here with Anna to do two things. First of all I, want to seek your forgiveness, and…” – turning to the mother – “yours, madam.”

“Hah, now that the mess is done you want forgiveness! You are foisting a black bastard on us and you want me to forgive you. I want to find that this is a bad dream, that’s all I want.”

“It is not a dream, father, it is my life!” said Anna.

Paul looked her father in the eye, respectful but unbowed. “You thought I might be a cleaner, Sir. Well, I am not embarrassed to tell you I’ve done cleaning jobs in your country. Better that than living on reluctant charity.”

“That’s the gratitude we get from you folk…”

“That’s the way I was made to see it, Sir. Like my type, as you describe them, I was looked upon with anger, despised. Nobody bothered to understand who I am, or that I am a mechanical engineer.

“It was only through the good offices of a friendly priest that Anna’s senior partner agreed to take me on.”

“Meddling priests,” snorted the father. “It is not enough that they harbour a bunch of paedophiles among them. They now also help destroy honest folk’ lives, foist bastards upon us.”

“Karm!” cried his wife. “How can you talk like that, our parish priest would be shocked if he heard you.”

“Not as shocked as I am. But shocked or not, I know what has to be done.”

He pushed his face close to his daughter’s: “You must have an abortion,” he said, “the sooner the better.”

“Karm!” gasped his wife once more, moving to pull her daughter to her. “Have you taken leave of your senses? An abortion?!”

“Keep out of this, woman! What else can be done?”

Paul spoke quickly and firmly. “Sir, I said I came here to do two things. I have asked for your forgiveness. Now I want to seek your permission to ask for Anna’s hand in marriage.”

Karm almost exploded. “Marriage? There you are, daughter, didn’t I tell you? He wants you to be his meal ticket; he wants to be entitled to citizenship because of the bastard he gave you.”

“The bastard, father, is a love child. Paul did not force me into anything, we shared love. I will not have an abortion, never! I will have Paul’s baby, our baby.”

Her father was nearly apoplectic. Before he could speak, Paul addressed him again.

“My love for your daughter, my wanting to marry her has nothing to do with citizenship.”

“Hasn’t it now!” growled Karm.

“No, it has not. I did not intend to come to Malta. In my country I supported the opposition to a corrupt government, whose leaders grow fat bank accounts in Switzerland out of the aid rich countries sent to mine, supposedly for our development. I fled political persecution in the hope of starting a new life on mainland Europe. Our boat overturned.”

“And we’re stuck with you here, trying to use my daughter.”

“Forgive me, Sir, but you are wrong. I want to marry your daughter, yes. I shall stay here to give our baby a name. But then I’ll do my best to be selected to go to another country, one of those helping take some boat people like me off your hands.

“Hopefully they will be more Christian there, and Anna, I and the baby can start a new life.”

“You black bastard, you want to take our daughter away from us!” roared Karm.

“Father, you don’t want us here!”

“I don’t want him and his black bastard here, that’s what I don’t want!”

Paul broke the ensuing silence again. “You don’t want me or my baby because of my black skin, Sir. May I tell you this? I see you set up a crib for the Gentle Child, to remind you it is Christmas time. In our country, at least in my family, for we are not all Catholics, we too pay homage to the Gentle Child. Except that, in our country he is black like me.”

“That’s blasphemy,” choked Karm.

“I do not intend as such, Sir. I mean, the Gentle Child cares for all of us. Where he was born he was probably darker than you are and whiter than I am. But he loves all of us. Why must you let colour blind you so…?”

The heavy silence was broken by Anna’s mother, who had stopped weeping.

“He’s right, Karm, don’t you see? They love each other, like I loved you, despite my parents’ opposition. Anna too is a love child, have you forgotten? What difference should colour make?”

The man opened his mouth. But, no words came out. A new one was added to his boiling feelings as he digested his wife’s words and recalled his own – a feeling of shame. He looked at the serene child in the crib, at his daughter and her lover, now clinging to each other. At his wife.

And the shame within him grew and grew.

Sign up to our free newsletters

Get the best updates straight to your inbox:
Please select at least one mailing list.

You can unsubscribe at any time by clicking the link in the footer of our emails. We use Mailchimp as our marketing platform. By subscribing, you acknowledge that your information will be transferred to Mailchimp for processing.