I cant just ditch my first child.
Paul, I need to pay for Olivers nursery, give me some money.
Sarah stops at the doorway. Hes slumped on the sofa, phone in his hands, not even glancing at her. He just shakes his head.
No money, Sarah.
How can that be?
She frowns and steps forward, hands automatically resting on her hips.
You got paid yesterday.
Paul finally looks up from the screen. His face is stonecold, showing no guilt or remorse.
I paid Ivy the twomonth childsupport arrears, he says.
Sarah freezes, a hot wave of outrage rising inside her.
And thats it? Nothing left?
His voice trembles a little.
Just a few pennies. I still have to get to work, buy lunch. No spare cash.
He thrusts the phone back into his hands, signalling the end of the conversation. Sarah cant hold back any longer.
You never have any money for Oliver! Never, Paul! Do you even get it? The nursery, the clothes, the food it all falls on me, and you only think about Ivy!
Sarah, dont start, Paul grumbles without lifting his head. Childsupport is the law. I have to pay. We share a budget, so why does it matter who pays what?
Sarah spins, snatches her coat from the rack, tears welling up but she wont let him see. The door slams shut behind her.
She strides down the street, ignoring the traffic. The cold wind whips her hair, but she pays it no mind. She clenches her teeth and dials Mary.
Hey, Mary, are you home? Can I come over?
Of course. Whats happened?
Ill tell you later.
She hangs up and grabs a taxi.
Half an hour later she sits at Marys kitchen table. Mary settles opposite her.
Money again?
Sarah nods and takes a sip of tea, the hot liquid burning her lips, but she doesnt bother pausing.
Weve been together for five years, Mary. Five years! We have a son together. Yet every time I need money for Oliver, I end up humiliated.
She sets her cup down, runs her hands over her face. Exhaustion crashes over her all at once.
Olivers daughter from his first marriage gets his support on time because thats written into a court order. And Oliver? Oliver can wait. The nursery isnt paid? Mum will sort it out. His shoes ripped? Mum will buy new ones. Paul just shrugs: no money, my salary isnt elastic.
She looks out the window; rain drips down the pane, blurring the world. Mary cups her mug, leans forward slightly.
Did you actually talk about this? Seriously?
dozens of times, Sarah says with a bitter smile. Every time its the same. I bring up Oliver, the money, how hard it is for me alone. He replies: I cant help, my salary has to cover everyone, I cant abandon my first child. And thats it. Curtain down. Conversation over.
Mary taps the table thoughtfully, her eyebrows meeting in the middle. Sarah knows that look shes thinking.
Youre not married, right?
Right, Sarah shrugs. We never thought we needed a marriage licence. Then Oliver was born, and we were too busy. I was on maternity leave, Paul was working. No time, no reason. We just lived together.
And on Olivers birth certificate, whos listed as father?
Paul, of course.
Sarah looks at Mary, puzzled.
What are you getting at?
Mary smiles, a strange, almost predatory grin.
Sarah, you should apply for childsupport!
Sarah freezes, the cup never reaching her lips.
What? Apply for childsupport? We live together.
Mary lifts a finger.
But youre not married. Legally youre just cohabitants. That gives you the right to claim support. The law is on your side.
But thats?
Honest? Fair? Right? Mary leans closer. Hes been dodging you for years. Maybe a threat of a court order will finally make him behave with his own son.
Sarah stays silent. The idea feels both crazy and logical. Inside, a battle rages. Part of her wants to run and do exactly what Mary suggests. Another part tells her it would be a betrayal.
I dont know. I need to think.
That evening Sarah picks Oliver up from the nursery. The boy chatters about drawing rockets, but Sarahs mind stays on Marys words, a splinter lodged in her thoughts.
At home Paul is still on the sofa. Oliver runs to him shouting Dad! Paul absentmindedly pats the boys head and returns to his phone. Sarah clutches her lips, heads to the kitchen to start dinner.
She isnt ready to follow Marys advice yet. It feels too drastic. Theyre a familyhow could she do that?
Ten days later everything shifts.
Oliver shows his mother his sneakers; the sole of one shoe is completely torn, the fabric hanging by a thread.
Mum, I need new ones, he says, voice trembling. I didnt mean to break them. They just fell apart.
Sarah sits beside him.
Its okay, love. Tomorrow well get a new pair, nice ones.
She walks over to Paul, who is fiddling with a video game.
Paul, Oliver needs new shoes. Give me some money.
No money, Sarah.
He doesnt even turn. Something snaps inside Sarah. She grabs his shoulder and spins him around.
Paul! No money again? Again you cant afford to buy shoes for your own son? How many times do I have to say this?
Dont shout.
Paul jerks his shoulder free, stepping back.
I told you, Ive got no money. What do you want from me?
Sarahs restraint shatters.
I want you to act like a father! I dont want my son walking around in holes because youre always broke! If you dont change, Ill go to court for childsupport! Understand?
Paul leaps up, his face twisted with fury. He looms over her.
What are you talking about? Childsupport? Youre just as greedy as Ivy! All I hear is my money, my money! Im just a walking wallet for you!
Sarah holds her ground, though anger and hurt shake her.
Dont you dare compare me to her! Ive believed in you for five years, waited, hoped youd change! And you only get worse!
Paul roars, Then get out! Go wherever you think youll be happier! No ones holding you!
Sarah freezes, looking into his empty, cold stareno love, no hope left.
Fine. Im leaving. Ill still apply for support. You can be sure of that.
She trudges to the bedroom to pack. Oliver stands in the doorway, eyes wide.
Mum, where are we going?
To Grandmas, sweetheart.
She sits on the floor, pulls Oliver into her lap.
Well stay with Grandma.
An hour later they arrive at her mothers house. The front door opens, her mother sees her daughter with tearstreaked cheeks and a little boy with a suitcase, and she embraces them both.
Come in.
The next day Sarah meets a solicitor. It feels like the endfive years, broken hopes, a family that never truly existed. When she signs the final papers, a weight lifts off her shoulders.
Paul tries to win her backcalls, texts, shows up, promises to change, swears hell avoid court. Sarah stays firm.
Its too late, Paul. Way too late.
The hearing is quick. The judge orders roughly £1,200 a month in childsupportabout a quarter of Pauls earnings. He sits pale, fists clenched, a vein pulsing on his temple. Sarah feels nothing but relief.
Now she lives with her mother and Oliver. Life is calm, steady. The monthly payments arrive on time, every month, more than what Oliver ever got when they lived together.
Sarah buys Oliver bright, brandnew trainersexactly the ones hed dreamed of. He races around the flat, laughing. Sarah watches him, knowing she made the right choice.
She and Paul are no longer together, but shes content. No more begging for every penny, no more humiliation. Paul now pays what the law demands, and thats fair.
When night falls and Oliver is tucked into bed, Sarah sits at the kitchen table with a mug of tea. Somewhere, Paul stews, blaming her. She doesnt care.
She is free. She has protected her son. And thats enough.
