**Diary Entry 12th April, 1995**
Mum put them in the childrens home right after New Years. The girls criedtheyd always been homebodies. Whenever Mum sorted out her love life (which she did often), the sisters, Poppy and Daisy, stayed with Gran. But Gran passed away just after Boxing Day, and Mum sent them off. No, she wasnt some drunk or layaboutshe didnt even smoke. But was it fair that her ex-husband got to live as he pleased while she was left to raise two little ones alone?
Mum unbuttoned Daisys coat, muttering, *»Stop your blubbering. Its just how things areits not my fault! Youll be fine here, youll see.»* Daisy, only three, didnt understand much, but the anger in Mums eyes and the terror on seven-year-old Poppys face told her everything. Mum hissed, *»Dont shame me. Im not abandoning youIll get settled and fetch you at Easter!»* The girls sniffled but quieted down. Mum had promised, after all.
They struggled at first, though the carers took to themPoppy with her solemn dark eyes, Daisy a sweet little thing with golden curls. Daisy would tug Poppys sleeve: *»Whens Easter? Will it come and take us home?»* Poppy always answered patiently, *»Easters in spring, remember how Gran painted eggs?»* Daisy would nod, but then, thinking of Gran, her lashes would glisten. Poppy asked one of the carers, Mrs. Whitmore, who gave her a tiny calendar. *»See? Ive circled Easter. Cross off each day till then.»* So Poppy did, counting down the numbers.
Easter morning, Daisy bolted in, clutching a painted egg: *»Pops! Todays the day! Mums coming!»* Poppy had been just as eager, but by naptime, dread crept in. By evening, she lied through her teeth: *»Mums bus mustve got stuckroads are awful this time of year!»* Daisy swallowed her tears. But Mum never came, though the girls invented excuses for her every day.
Then one morning, Poppy woke to find Daisy gone. The staff said Mum had taken her. Years later, Poppy learned Mum had signed her away. But luck found herAunt Martha, Dads sister, tracked her down. Aunt Martha was kind, and Poppy soon called her *Mum*. The wounds in her heart slowly healed, though she tried not to think of her sister.
Years passed. Poppy trained as a nurse, married, had a son. Life wasnt lavish, but it was warm. Then, out of nowherea letter. From Daisy.
*»Dear Poppy, You probably dont remember me? I just recall your plaits and those checked slippers. Id love to see you! Weve moved backif you dont mind, could I visit?»*
Poppy agreed, though it struck her as oddDaisy inviting herself over.
At the bus station, Daisy limped toward her, waving madly in a pale blue jacket. She hugged Poppy tight, sobbing, *»I knew you straight away!»* Poppy grumbled, *»Still a crybaby,»* though her own eyes stung.
Over supper, Daisy chattered: *»Dont blame Mum. Uncle Simon said hed take us both when they met, but she got cold feet. Then they had Billy, then little Rosesuch a doll! Uncle Simons a carpenter, does well for himself. We even go to Brighton sometimes. Oh, but in Year 7, a bull tossed melucky no one else got hurt. Left me with this limp…»* She grinned. *»This pies lovelycan I have the recipe?»*
Poppy asked, *»Do you work? Any sweethearts? Youre pretty enough!»*
Daisy flushed. *»After the accident, loads of hospital bills… I help at home or Uncle Simons workshop. Mums an accountant now. As for friends… well, the limp puts some off.»*
Poppy made her stay the night. When Daisy slept, she noticed her clothesclean, but threadbare, mended a dozen times. No one wore that to visit family.
At 3 a.m., she woke her husband. *»Drive me to Millfield. Now.»* He cursed but went.
Outside Mums house, Poppys heart hammered. Mum answered, not recognising her. Poppy said, *»Morning, Mum. Long time.»* Mum greeted her like a pesky neighbour. *»Wheres Daisy? Tell her to come homethe kids need breakfast.»*
Poppy kept her voice steady. *»Daisys staying with me. Pack her things. And money, if youve any. Ill get her a job, sort her leg. Hear me?»*
Mum jutted her chin. *»Clear off. Well fetch Daisy ourselves.»*
Poppy shook her head. *»Not DaisyDais. Thats what you call a cow. Want the whole village knowing how their *respectable* accountant dumped her kids? Think theyll forget?»*
Mum slammed the door. Half an hour later, a stooped man handed Poppy a rucksack. *»Im Simon. Give LucyDaisymy best. Well send money.»*
Walking back, Poppy thought: *Lifes not simple. But is «simple» even the word? That men dont drink or stray, that women dont abandon kids for a new bloke, that sisters dont forget each other?*
*Just being decentthats the hard part. Poppy opened the rucksack and found a single photo at the bottomtwo little girls in matching coats, standing in front of a Christmas tree, arms around each other. She tucked it into her pocket. By the time they reached the car, dawn had broken, pale and quiet, like the space between one breath and the next. She started the engine and drove toward the hospital, where her shift began at seven. Dais slept in the back, one hand curled near her face like she used to as a child. Poppy glanced in the mirror. «Well get you sorted,» she whispered, more to herself than to anyone. And for the first time in years, she believed it.
