«Right, heres how it is. Either you help me strip Vicky of her parental rights, or I walk out, and you lot can sort this mess yourselves.»
«Natasha, for heavens sake! Shes your sister! My daughter!» Mum threw her hands up, then clutched her chest.
«And what am I? Chopped liver?» Resentment sharpened Natashas voice. «Sometimes I reckon Im not even human to you. Cant you see whats happening? Ive grown attached to little AlfieI love himand you lot just… Either help me, or Ill do it myself. But I wont let this slide.»
Mum looked away, torn between them all. Dad stirred his tea with a grimace, lost in thought. Natasha, having made her point, stood and marched upstairs to her room.
Clearly, her parents hadnt chosen her. Or Alfie.
She began packingnot that she had much. Her chest ached something fierce, but she knew this had to be done.
Then came the hardest part. A small hand clutched her leg, and tiny sobs hit her like a gut punch.
«Mummy, dont go» Alfie whimpered, watching her fold clothes.
Mummy. That word sliced through her anew. Natasha sighed, knelt, and forced a smile.
«Im not leaving you, Alfie,» she murmured, hugging him tight. «Im leaving so things can get better. Ill come back. For good. Promise.»
He wailed, unable to grasp why his auntthe woman he called Mumwould abandon him. He clung to her jumper until exhaustion won, and only then did she slip out, tiptoeing into the night.
At that moment, she loathed Vicky. This was all her fault.
…Vicky had been wild since sixteen. First, late nights. Then «sleepovers» with «friends»though everyone knew what kind. Shed stagger home smeared with makeup, sometimes in tears. And Mum and Dad would coddle her like some precious heirloom.
A pregnancy was inevitable. At seventeen, Vicky got knocked upby some bloke from a party whose last name she didnt even know.
Alfie arrived. Quickly, Vicky decided motherhood wasnt her cup of tea. First, overnight disappearances. Then, poofgone.
«Im still young. Not throwing my life away,» shed told Natasha over the phone when pressed.
So the «life» landed on Natasha. Granddad barely acknowledged Alfiea rattle here, a pat there. Granny helped between shifts, but time was scarce.
Natasha, eighteen, switched to part-time uni to care for a newborn. She became his mother in all but nameeven christened him.
It was brutal. Night feeds, sleepless study sessions, hauling a pram up flights of stairs. She ran herself ragged, but by six months, shed found a rhythm.
Then Vicky returnedtearful, repentant, on her knees.
«Sorry, I was such an idiot Itll be different now»
They believed her. Even Natasha. For a month, Vicky played mumuntil the novelty wore off. Then she vanished again, this time nicking Mums jewellery.
«Shes just struggling,» Mum excused. «Shell come round. Needs time.»
Natasha stopped believing. Once was chance. Twice? A pattern. But where could she go? Mum and Dad lived in a fantasy where Vicky deserved endless chances.
So Natasha carried onstudying, raising Alfie, juggling nursery runs and check-ups. She prayed Vicky wouldnt return.
No such luck. Four years later, Vicky reappeared.
«I thought he loved me. Planned to take Alfie. But he used me Left me jobless, friendlesshad to scrounge for train fare,» she sniffed, batting puppy-dog eyes at their parents.
«Mustve been starving,» Natasha deadpanned, eyeing Vickys new curves.
Mum shot her a glare. The spotlight swung back to poor, tragic Vicky.
The worst came when Natasha brought Alfie home from nursery. Granny nudged him toward Vicky. He burst into tears, hiding behind Natasha.
«Dont be silly,» Granny cooed. «This is your mummy.»
«Shes not! Youre Mummy!» Alfie clung tighter.
«Natashas just your aunt. Vickys your real mum.»
Natashas heart shatteredfor Alfie, for the betrayal, for the cycle restarting.
And restart it did.
Vicky leeched off them for two months, jobless.
«Whod hire me with Alfie? Constant sick days. Basically maternity leave,» she shrugged when Natasha asked her plans.
ThenshockerVicky vanished again. Clarity came via social media: snaps with a new «beau» twice her age.
«Right. Another pub crawler,» Natasha thought. Hope died. What now?
She confided in her mate, Nina.
«Convenient, innit? One mum loves him, the others real Just get her rights stripped. Its not hardwelfare checks, court, sorted.»
Natasha balked.
«Parentsll go spare. And what if they take Alfie?»
«Or wait till Vicky wrecks his head again. Your choice. But siswheres your life in all this? Its overdue.»
Natasha had forgotten she had one. Dates fled when they heard she had a «kid.» Only Alex, a mate from uni, stuck aroundbut shed brushed him off.
After Ninas pep talk, she gave him a shot. With Alex, she felt light. He listened. Helped.
So after her ultimatum, she went to him. Just to vent. But Alex surprised her.
«Ive said it beforelets move in. Maybe nows the time?»
«I cant. Alfie»
«So well be three.»
Natasha gaped.
«But hes not yours»
«Nat,» he cut in, «Im not daft. Knew what I signed up for. If hes family to you, hes family to me.»
Something in her chest thawed.
The next six months were hell: social workers, courses, paperwork. Worse, Alfie couldnt come yethe cried, waited, asked for her.
«You stole your sisters child!» Mum spat.
«Like she wanted him,» Natasha shot back.
Her parents shut her out. Only friends and Alex stood by her.
But after the storm, the sun.
Years later, Natasha watched Alfie teach his little sister, Lily, to kick a football. Alex squeezed her shoulder, and she thought: Worth it.
Vicky? Radio silence. Probably still clubbing, still milking their parents for sympathy.
Mum and Dad never forgave her. Fine. «Let them coddle Vicky,» Natasha mused. «Ill care for the ones who matter. The garden gate creaked as Alfie ran back, breathless, muddy-kneed, and grinning. Mum! Lily kicked it all the way to the fence!
Natasha laughed, pulling both children close. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in gold and rose, and for the first time in years, the house behind her felt like home.
