A dreadful surprise came to light by pure chance. My little four-year-old sister, Lucy, had developed an umbilical hernia. The doctors said not to delaythe sooner the operation, the better. Lucy refused point-blank to go to the hospital without Dad. We waited for him to return from his lorry route, and he walked her all the way to the operating theatre.
«Daddy, will you wait for me here?» my sister sobbed.
«Where else would I go, love? Of course Ill wait. Why are you crying? Youre my brave girl, arent you?»
«Im not crying! Im just breathing loudly!»
And with that, she was wheeled away. A simple, routine procedure. But the hospital required Mum and Dad to donate blooda mandatory condition.
«Only one of us is a match, surely,» Dad said. «Couldnt you test first? So we dont give more than needed.»
«Theres no such thing as too much blood!» the doctor insisted.
Mum and Dad both donated. Mum went pale, looking like she might faint any second. She couldnt sit still afterward, darting in and out of the treatment room, chatting with the nurse. When Lucy was finally wheeled back, Dad went to meet her as promised. He stayed with her the whole weekend. Mum seemed to calm down a bit, visited Lucy, then drove me home, though I protested.
«I can stay with her too,» I insisted stubbornly.
I was eleven by then. Lucy, my little blonde sister, was my absolute favourite person in the worldmaybe even more than Mum and Dad. How could anyone not adore her? She was an angel. A real-life, golden-haired angel.
Picture a small market town with its modest hospital. New, fully equippedeven had a blood bank, fancy that. But a towns a town. Three days later, Lucy was home, and Dad was preparing for another route. He went out to buy cigarettes for the road. But when he returned, he looked like a thundercloud.
«Daddy» Lucy wailed from the nursery (she was still on bed rest), «did you bring my favourite marshmallows?»
Dad left the shopping bag in the hallway. He told me to go to the nursery straight away, took Mum by the elbow, and steered her into the kitchen.
«John John, whats wrong?»
What followed was a conversation I wouldnt understand for yearsLucy was too young, and I obeyed Dad without question. Off to the nursery we 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 wild, backed MumZoeagainst the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.
«Is it true? Lucy isnt mine?»
«WhathowJohn, are you mad? How could you say such a thing?»
«Ill tell you how. Im blood type A positive. Youre O positive. And hers» he jerked his head toward the door, «is B negative. If theres been a mistake, we can re-test.»
Zoe shoved him aside, marched to the table, and slumped into a chair. She dropped her head into her hands and groaned.
«Bastards. I begged them! Whats wrong with them? Theyre jealous, John. Weve got it alleven perfect little children.»
«Begged them, did you? Right. Got it.»
He walked out, leaving Zoe in tears. Just one slipone moment of boredom with a visiting engineer. Her husband was always away on routes. In films, lorry drivers are rugged and romantic. In real life? Its lonely and bleak. Zoe had thought, why not? He probably wasnt faithful either, spending weeks on the road. She jumped up and ran after him, but he was already gone. A box of marshmallows sat abandoned on the table.
After his next route, Dad had a serious talk with me. He asked me to come live with him.
«Dad, what about Lucy? Mum? Cant you stay?»
It felt like a boulder had been dropped on my shoulders. Id seen videos about rockshow theyre made of layers. The weight crushing me wasnt uniform either. There was the fear of losing Dad. The terror of choosing. Either way, Id lose someone. Crunching the numbers in my head, I decided to stay. Lucy + Mum outnumbered Dad. Though, in truth, Lucy alone mightve tipped the scales.
Dad met with me often. Lucy, thoughhe acted like she didnt exist. I didnt understand, but I figured if he could explain, he would. At first, Lucy moped and cried, a heartbreaking sight. But gradually, she asked about Dad less and less. She withdrew, lost in her toys. I didnt grasp exactly why this punishment had fallen on her, but I could guess. And Mum?
Mum lost it. She started dragging junk home from the bins. First, harmless stuffthings that could be useful. Then, anything and everything. She stopped caring about us entirely, hunched over her trash treasures, muttering and sorting. How a young, beautiful woman could turn into this in eighteen months baffled me. But I never told Dad. A neighbour, Auntie Mary, looked after us sometimes. With Dads child support, I scraped by for food. But the smellthe stench soaking our flatwas another matter. Kids at school mocked me, but I avoided fights.
«Auntie Mary, can you teach me to iron?» I knocked on her door.
«Timothy, love, youd need to wash them first» She wrinkled her nose.
«Wont help. Ive tried. But Im seeing Dad tomorrow, and I cant look like this»
«So he doesnt» She gasped. «He doesnt know about Zoe?»
«I wont tell him. He leftits not his problem anymore!»
She let me in, then paused. «Bring Lucy too. Ill get you both sorted. And bring your clotheschange here. Whatever I can do»
So we did. At least I didnt reek like a tramp at school anymore. But caring Auntie Mary didnt stop there. She tracked down Dad and shamed him. He met me after school.
«Why didnt you tell me?»
«What difference would it make? Would you have come back?»
«No. But you couldve lived with me.»
«And Lucy?»
Dad stayed silent. I shook my head and turned toward home.
«Wait! Lucy could stay with Gran.»
«Grans got a new husband. Shes not interested.»
«Right. Takes after her, then» Dad caught himself.
He did try talking to his ex-mother-in-law.
«John, are you daft? Why would I want little kids? Im living my second youth.»
«But Lucys your granddaughter!»
«Pity.»
«What?!»
«Pity motherhoods a certainty, but fatherhoods not. If Id had a son, whos to say his kids were mine? No skin off my nose. But Lucy? Mine, sure. But Ive got my own life.»
«Yeah. Shouldve taken a closer look at you before marrying Zoe.»
One morning, I woke up to find Mum gone. Her hoard remainedshed only spared mine and Lucys roombut shed vanished. I cracked the window, letting icy air dilute the stench. Fed Lucy, nibbled something myself, then took her to Auntie Marys.
«Mums gone. Ive got school.»
«Gone? In this freeze? Whered she go?»
My reckless, broken mother ended her days on a distant landfill. Why she froze instead of coming home, no one knew. Mary said social services would step in now, make decisions. And they came. The woman took one look at our flat and turned to Mary.
«Could we handle the paperwork at yours?»
«Sure, come in,» Mary sighed.
«Hold it. Nobodys going anywhere.» Dads voice echoed up the stairs. «Just back from a route. These are my kids.»
«And the flats yours?» The social worker smirked.
Dad didnt even glance inside. «Pack your things, Tim. Were going home. Well sort this out later.»
«And Lucy?» My voice trembled.
«Obviously. Lucy, you too.»
My sister peeled herself off the wall and shuffled toward him.
«Daddy?»
«Yeah, sweetheart?»
«Is it really you?»
He scooped her up, holding her tight, and exhaled heavily.
«Its me. Im here. Everythings fine.»
«Dont leave us again, Daddy!» Lucy wailed.
I froze. Shed spill everything, and that stern woman would take us, official father or not. But the social worker had lost interest, gossiping with Mary instead. And Dad? He held Lucy, tears streaming down his face. Hed tried so hard to resent her, to stay away, but his love for herfor uswon in the end.
«I wont. Im never leaving you again,» he choked out.
