Dear Diary,
Hold on a minute! my mate Claire shouted cheerfully. Is this the bloke whos not paying his child support?
I told her Id never really sorted that out, and honestly we didnt need anything from him. Hes moved on, got a new family
She huffed, Well, what are you going to do about it? I couldve asked earlier. By law the kids are entitled to maintenance not you! No one should be bothered by the fact hes remarried and has a baby.
I was perfectly content with my own domestic life. My husband Ian and I raised our two little girls Emma and Lily in a modest twobedroom flat in Manchester. Both of us worked; Ian ran a small haulage firm that didnt bring in a fortune, but between his modest earnings and my salary we managed.
Claire never liked Ian. Hes lazy and vague! shed snap at our girls nightins. He could pick up a side hustle, even a taxi driver! Instead he sprawls on the couch after work. Hes exhausted, you see!
We cant even afford a car, Id reply shyly.
And why not? You can rent one these days its the twentyfirst century! shed retort.
Ians kind, diligent, never drinks, and he loves us three, Id defend him fiercely.
Claire didnt take offence; wed been friends since school and shes always spoken her mind, blunt as a butchers knife. Deep down shes a good sort, always ready to lend a hand or a few quid until payday.
For years Ians luck with menial jobs was poor. By the time I hit thirty I finally found some stability and moved away with him to the countryside. We kept in touch by phone and saw each other once a year. So when Ian suddenly announced he was leaving me for another woman, I was flatfooted.
He breezed in one afternoon, announced in a conspiratorial whisper, Im moving in with Rima were kindred spirits. Shes even expecting a boy.
Do you two have a history? I asked.
It doesnt matter, he shrugged. What matters is Im moving, and you need to vacate the flat.
Rima turned out to be a school nurse, seven years my junior, a perfectly ordinary sort. Wed met a year earlier when Emma fell at school and Ian fetched her home himself.
It emerged the flat Ian and I had lived in for years wasnt really his. A kindly relative had let them stay, and now that the relative was moving out, Ian wanted us out. Hed been paying the council tax and utilities himself, so Id never touched the bills the name on the account was the same as his, after all.
Stunned, I didnt explode. I packed a few things, hailed a black cab and we moved into a spare room of a threebedroom house where Id lived before marriage. I didnt lie to the girls; elevenyearold Emma is astute and immediately sensed something was amiss, turning away from her father and acting independent. Lily, ever the copycat, followed her sisters lead.
Ian tried to coax us with, Well still see each other, but after seeing no response he fell silent. It soon became clear he had little intention of visiting. He now had a son, Victor, the proud heir to his imagined empire.
The girls, however, pulled me through. I realised Id go to any lengths for them; no deadbeat dad could ever replace their love.
Living in a miniboarding house was a shock. The neighbour, Uncle Joe, drank more than he did twelve years ago and let his mates crash on his sofa. The other neighbour, Mrs. Vera, proved a godsend. She watched over the girls, helped with chores, and kept my spirits up with her endless stories of days gone by. There are plenty of rotten apples out there, but therere good people too, shed say, nudging Lily and Emma into the kitchen to whip up a simple supper.
I took a second job, often arriving home late. Emma, bright as a button, helped with her own homework and tutored Lily. Under Veras watchful eye, the girls learned to cook modest meals and kept the rooms tidy. Youre lucky with them, Vera would wink.
Six months later things settled. We got along, looked after each other and even Uncle Joe seemed to curb his drinking around the kids. Ians contact with the girls was limited to an occasional sighting; his new life was a parade of selfies with Rima and their baby boy posted daily on social media. Claire filled me in, He dumped you and didnt even tell me!
My goodness, Claire! I snapped, Im pregnant, not ill! Dont make jokes about my age! She threatened, Dont hide anything from me again, you wretched thing!
A month later Ian burst in with news that a distant uncle had died, leaving him a country house, a car and a tidy sum. Im now a rich man, he declared. Ill take the girls and give them proper rooms, a roof that doesnt leak. This flat is a dump.
I stared, Are you mad? You never cared about the kids before.
He replied, I have nothing to give them now. Rimas a qualified psychologist; she says children need a stable home with their father. Youre always off at work.
Fine, what else do I have to do for your Rimas experiment? I snapped. If you object, Ill take them to court.
Mrs. Vera arrived just in time, her eyes flashing. She pushed Ian out the door in one swift motion, and he left, vowing to return.
Claire, what am I to do? I whispered into the phone. The flat is falling apart, the management cant even fix the roof, and the neighbours are breathing down my neck.
Claire answered, Hold on! He isnt paying child support, is he?
I never thought about it, I admitted. We dont need him. Hes got a new family.
And what about the law? The kids are entitled to maintenance, not you! His new wife and child are irrelevant.
She scolded gently, You should have asked earlier. He must help with the house. At least turn on the telly once in a while!
I laughed weakly, No time for television when youre juggling everything.
Dont worry, I know someone in Manchester a solicitor named Alana. Shell sort it out for you. Expect a call soon, and stop trying to dodge him!
Alana, a sprightly young lawyer, met with me and laid out the plan. Hell have to pay a third of his earnings in child maintenance. Well find a twobedroom let; youll cover half the rent. Youll also be partially responsible for the girls medical expenses.
Ian stared, Whats that supposed to mean?
It means the girls will stay with me Im their guardian now, Alana said matteroffactly.
The court will likely keep the children with their mother, especially since they want to stay with me, she added.
In the end we agreed Ian would pay maintenance, contribute to repairs, and never try to snatch the girls again. Alana winked, Well press him for a new flat for you too. Everything will turn out alright.
I couldnt find fault with Alanas confidence.
Looking back, Ive learned that when a partner walks away, you must lean on the people who truly care friends, neighbours, and the strength of your own children. No one else can replace that bond, and the law will eventually uphold whats right.
Lesson learned: trust the good folk around you and never let a deadbeat dictate your worth.
