23May2025
Ive finally decided to write this down, perhaps to make sense of the tangled months that have passed. Two weeks after the funeral I told my wife, Jane, in a firm tone, I think Evelyn should stay with us. The little girl had been living with us ever since we formally took temporary guardianship before her mother, Mary, left for a new job abroad. The temporary arrangement was due to end in a month, and we still had to decide what to do.
My decisive tone seemed to wound Jane. She snapped, Is it because shes yours? Admit it! I cant bear this any longer! I was taken aback. What am I supposed to endure, Jane? I asked. Are you really listening to that Polly? she retorted, her voice sharp.
Jane and Mary have known each other since they were babies. Their mothers shared a ward in the same maternity unit, and later it turned out the families lived on neighbouring streets, took their children to the same park, and eventually sent them to the same nursery, primary school and university. They were alike in looks and temperament Mary a touch more headstrong, Jane the evergentle soul her mother praised.
Their friendship was solid. They helped each other through hardships, and both mothers often said, Its good you have a friend like that; shell be a sister you never had. When Polly arrived at university, they were cautious about letting her into their close circle, but her persistence won them over. Eventually the three of them became inseparable, though Polly sometimes felt left out when Mary and Jane spent time together.
Mary married later, at twentyfive, to a promising engineer, David, four years her senior. Jane and I had always wanted children; there were no medical obstacles, yet nothing happened. Three years into our marriage, Mary announced suddenly that she was pregnant. She refused to name the father, though Jane guessed it was Derek, a man Mary had been seeing for a year before he vanished after a quarrel.
Dont worry, Ill manage on my own, Mary declared proudly. Its a shame my mother wont see my granddaughter, but I have enough money for the baby and a nanny. Jane, genuinely happy for her, replied, Well help you, Mary. Polly rolled her eyes and kept reminding Mary that a child needed a father and that responsibility was huge. At least yours will be with your husband, she sniped. Jane and Mary just exchanged amused looks Polly could be a bit of a nag, but what could they do?
When Marys baby, a little girl named Evelyn, arrived, Jane became her godmother. Evelyn often visited us, and I enjoyed looking after her. For a while we even forgot our own struggle to have a child. Six years after Evelyns birth, Mary met the man of her dreams, Andrew. He was intelligent, goodlooking, kind and caring. But its not meant to be, Mary sighed. Why not? Jane asked. Hes probably married, Polly guessed. Or his mothers a hawkeyed lady, she added cruelly. Mary defended him: He was married once, but they split years ago. He has no children and we barely speak. Elizabeth, his mother, is actually wonderful.
The problem is, Mary continued, hes about to be posted abroad for a crucial project. Polly sneered, Great, youve lost a fiancé! Jane shot her a reproachful look and asked, Doesnt he want you to come with him? Mary answered, He does, but we cant take Evelyn with us. She still needs school, and she barely knows English yet. Polly snorted, So youd trade your daughter for a man? Mary sighed, No.
The next day Jane talked seriously with me about taking Evelyn in permanently. We cant let Mary lose this chance, she pleaded. Evelyn feels like family to us. I laughed, Alright, Im not against it. Does Mary agree? Jane admitted she didnt know yet, but added, Youre the best husband I could ask for, and clung to me. After a long hesitation Mary finally consented, promising to send money if needed. I waved it off, Dont bother, love.
We said our farewells with tears, promising daily video calls. Evelyn quickly got used to staying with her godmother while her mother was away. One such call, Polly dropped by uninvited, a bottle of wine in hand, complaining about a new boyfriend who refused to commit or think about children. You treat her like a sack of coal, helping her while she mocks you, she slurred. Jane, bewildered, asked, What are you on about? Polly replied, About Mary, of course. Shes clever, a bit of a schemer. Jane warned her to either speak plainly or shut up. Polly snapped back, Fine, Ill say it: Marys child is yours, Victor. So Im not opposed to Evelyn staying with you. I looked at Polly with disgust, Did you have a few drinks before coming here, or are two glasses enough to make you babble nonsense? She stood, defiantly, I could leave right now, but the truth stays.
I entered the kitchen where I was putting Evelyn to sleep, having missed most of their argument. Someone needs to drink less, I muttered, shrugging. Honestly, Polly has always been the third wheel, jealous and shortsighted. I still dont understand how you two became friends. It was my first open criticism of her, and Jane believed me, though a small seed of doubt began to sprout.
I recalled the many evenings Victor and Mary had spent together without Jane. I always welcomed Pollys visits, just as I now tended to Evelyn. Janes mood shifted subtly; she started watching Evelyn closely, noting how the childs laugh, the way she held a spoon, even her love of chocolatecovered nuts, mirrored my own habits. It seemed to drive her a little mad, and she grew increasingly hostile toward the bond between Evelyn and me.
Our arguments grew petty, and one night I even suggested she see a doctor. We didnt speak for three days. Then the terrible news arrived: Mary and Andrew were involved in a car crash. Andrew suffered serious injuries; Mary died instantly. Jane and I spent a fortune and countless sleepless nights arranging for her burial back home in England. In those dark days, Janes suspicions faded, only to return as the grief softened.
Two weeks after the funeral, I repeated my earlier words, I think Evelyn should stay with us. The temporary guardianship was ending, and we still needed a decision. Janes anger flared again. Is it because shes yours? she shouted. Admit it! I cant take this any longer! I asked, What am I supposed to endure, Jane? Did you really believe that that Polly? I added, I thought you were sensible and had left that nonsense behind. She snapped, Youll have to prove it, and declared, Ill decide only after a DNA test.
Andrew had agreed to the test, and the results showed I was not Evelyns father. The shame lingered for Jane, though she never hurled accusations at Mary. Now, I carry a quiet guilt, still apologising in my mind for the years of doubt. Evelyn remains with us. Ive cut off contact with Polly, laying all my thoughts about her on the table in one sharp outburst. Victor pretends nothing happened; why revisit the past when the present finally brings hope? After all, my wife is now pregnant.
Looking back, I realize how quickly mistrust can poison love and friendship, how silence can let suspicion fester, and how essential it is to face the truth headon. The lesson I take from all this is simple: trust those who stand by you, test the facts before letting fear decide, and cherish the bonds that survive even the darkest storms.
