Alright, so heres the story, all adapted for English culturenames, places, everything.
It was a horrible surprise that came out of nowhere. My little four-year-old sister, Lucy, had developed an umbilical hernia. The doctors said not to delaythe sooner she had the operation, the better. Lucy outright refused to go to the hospital without Dad. We waited for him to come back from his lorry route, and he walked her right up to the operating room.
“Daddy, will you wait here for me?” my sister sobbed.
“Where else would I go, sweetheart? Of course Ill wait. Why are you crying? Youre so brave.”
“Im not crying! Im just sighing really hard!”
And off she went. A routine, straightforward procedure. But the hospital insisted Mum and Dad donate blood beforehandno exceptions.
“Her blood type only matches one of us, right?” Dad asked. “Maybe test first so we dont give extra?”
“Theres no such thing as extra blood!” the doctor said firmly.
Mum and Dad both donated. Mum looked pale, like she might faint any second. She couldnt sit still afterwardkept running to the nurses station, chatting with them. Eventually, Lucy was wheeled out, and Dad went to meet her, just like he promised. He stayed with her the whole weekend. Mum finally calmed down, checked on Lucy, then dragged me home, even though I refused.
“I can stay with her too,” I insisted stubbornly.
I was eleven by then. Lucy, my little blonde sister, was my favourite person in the world. Maybe even more than Mum and Dad. How could you not adore her? An angela proper little golden-haired angel.
Picture a small market town with its little local hospital. Yeah, it was new, fully equippedeven had a blood bank, fancy that. But a small towns still a small town. Three days later, Lucy was home, and Dad was prepping for another haul. He went out to buy cigarettes for the road. But when he came back he looked like a thundercloud.
“Daddy!” Lucy wailed from her room (she was still on bed rest). “Did you get my marshmallows?”
Dad left the shopping bag in the hallway. Told me to go straight to Lucys room. Then he took Mum by the elbow and steered her into the kitchen.
“John John, whats wrong?”
What happened next was a conversation I only understood years laterback then, neither Lucy nor I had a clue. She was too young, and I listened to Dad. Into her room I went. Lucy started whining for Dad and her sweets, so I offered to read to her. Thank God, she agreed.
In the kitchen, John, eyes blazing, got right in Mums face until she pressed against the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.
“Is it true? Lucys not mine?”
“WhathowJohn, have you lost your mind? What kind of thing is that to say?”
“Ill tell you what Im saying. Im O positive. Youre A positive. And her” he jerked his head toward the door “is AB negative. If they messed up, we can re-test.”
Mum shoved him back, walked to the table, and slumped into a chair. She dropped her head into her hands and groaned.
“Those bastards. I *told* them! Whats their problem? Theyre jealous, John. Weve got it all. Such lovely kids.”
“You told them, did you? Right. Got it.”
He walked out, leaving Mum crying in the kitchen. Just one slipout of boredom, with some engineer on a business trip. Dad was always away driving. In films, lorry drivers are romantic. In real life? Its lonely. Mum figured he probably wasnt faithful either, out on the road all the time. She jumped up to chase after himbut he was already gone. Just a box of marshmallows left on the table.
After his next haul, Dad had a serious talk with me. Asked if Id leave with him.
“Dad, what about Lucy? Mum? Cant you stay?”
It felt like someone had dropped a boulder on me. Boulders are made of rockId seen videos. And this one crushing me wasnt uniform, either. There was fear of losing Dad. Fear of choosing. Either way, I lost someone. Quick maths in my head: Lucy + Mum outnumbered Dad. Though just Lucy alone mightve tipped the scales.
Dad met up with me a lot after that. Lucy? Like hed forgotten her. I didnt get it, but I figured if he *could* explain, he would. At first, Lucy moped and criedheartbreaking to watch. But gradually, she stopped asking about him. She withdrew, playing with her toys for hours. I didnt know *why* this was happening to her, but I could guess. As for Mum
Mum lost it. Started dragging junk in from the bins. First just useful stuff, then anything. Stopped caring about us completely. Shed sit there muttering over her treasures. How a young, pretty woman could turn into *that* in eighteen monthsno idea. But I didnt tell Dad. Our neighbour, Auntie Mary, looked after us sometimes. I managed food with Dads child support. But the smell soaking our flat? Kids at school laughed, but I avoided fights.
“Auntie Mary, can you teach me to iron?” I knocked on her door.
“Harry, love, you need to *wash* them first” she wrinkled her nose.
“Wont help. I tried. But Im seeing Dad tomorrow, and I need to look decent”
“So hes really” She gasped. “He doesnt know about Susan?”
“I wont tell him. He leftits not his problem!”
She let me in, then added, “Bring Lucy too. Ill sort you both out. And bring your clotheschange here. Least I can do.”
So we did. At least I didnt reek like a tramp at school anymore. But Auntie Mary wasnt done. She went to Dad and shamed him. He met me after school.
“Why didnt you say anything?”
“Would you have come back?”
“No. But you could live with me.”
“And Lucy?”
Silence. I shook my head and walked off.
“Wait! Lucy could stay with Grandma.”
“Grandmas got a new husband. Shes not bothered with us.”
“Right. Takes after” Dad cut himself off.
He still tried talking to his ex-mother-in-law.
“John, are you mad? Why would I want little kids? Im living my second youth!”
“But Lucys your granddaughter!”
“Shame.”
“What?!”
“Shame motherhoods obvious, but fatherhood isnt. If I had a son with kids, whos to say theyre mine? No skin off my nose. But she *is* mine. Still, Ive got my own life.”
“Yeah. Shouldve looked closer at *you* before marrying Susan.”
One morning, I woke up and Mum was gone. All her junk was still thereshed only kept mine and Lucys room clearbut shed vanished. I opened the window; icy air dulled the stench. Fed Lucy, nibbled something myself, then took her to Auntie Mary.
“Mums gone. Ive got school.”
“Gone? Its freezing! Whered she go?”
My hopeless, broken mother ended up dead on a rubbish heap. Why she froze instead of coming homeno one knew. Auntie Mary said social services would take us now. And they came. The woman looked at our flat and turned to Mary.
“Could we, um, do the paperwork at yours?”
“Sure, come in,” Mary sighed.
“Hold on. No ones going anywhere.” Dads voice came up the stairs. “Just back from a haul. These are my kids.”
“Flat yours too?” the social worker scoffed.
Dad didnt even glance inside. Just said to me, “Pack up. Were going home. Well sort this place later.”
“And Lucy?” I asked, terrified.
“Course. Lucy, love, get your things.”
My sister peeled herself off the wall and shuffled over.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Is it really you?”
Dad scooped her up, hugged her tight, and sighed.
“Its me. Im here. Its alright.”
“Dont leave again, Daddy!” Lucy wailed.
I froze. Now shed blow it, and the social worker would take us despite having a living father. But the woman had lost interest, gossiping with Mary instead. And Dad? He held Lucy, tears streaming down his face. However hard hed tried to resent her, however long hed stayed awayhis love for her won. His love for *us*.
“I wont. Im never leaving you again. We piled into Dads lorry that afternoon, our small cases stuffed with whatever hadnt been ruined by damp or mice. Lucy fell asleep on my shoulder, thumb in her mouth like she hadnt done in years. Dad glanced back at us through the mirror, one hand steady on the wheel, the other reaching back to squeeze my knee. The road stretched ahead, grey and wet under winter light, but the heater was working, and for the first time in a long while, the air didnt smell of rot or silence. We didnt talk much. We didnt need to. Somewhere behind us, the flat sat empty, waiting for someone elses misfortune. Ahead, there was just the hum of the engine, the rhythm of the tyres, and a small terraced house on the edge of another townDads name on the lease, curtains already drawn open, waiting for us to come home.
