Victor Hughes, 37, had built a respectable life in a modest twobedroom flat in East London, but the one thing that still gnawed at him was the absence of a family of his own. Six years earlier his father had been taken from him, and since then hed been sharing the cramped council flat with his mother, Margaret, who clung to the hope that one day shed be a grandmother again.
Victor had done everything his mother expected. He earned a solid degree in engineering, landed a stable job at a local firm, and kept his promises. Margaret lingered over every phone call, eyes bright with the thought of hearing, Mum, Ive found the one, so she could start doting on grandchildren.
Then Victor met Angela Clarke, a shy student from a village in Kent whod come to the city for her studies. Her family was modest, but that mattered little to Victor. Margaret, however, frowned at the match, muttering that Angela wasnt suitable for her son. Ignoring the disapproval, Victor followed his heart and began dating her.
After a few months, he brought Angela back to the flat and announced that they were moving in together and that she was pregnant. Margarets face hardened; she accused Angela of using the city as a steppingstone, of staying for the money. Still, Angela moved in, and Margaret, though reluctant, allowed her to stay.
Days turned into weeks, and Angela proved herself a capable housekeeper. She learned the rhythm of the flat, cooked hearty meals, and helped Margaret with the garden on the balcony. The tension eased, but Margaret never fully let her guard down, always waiting for a slip that might justify her doubts.
When their daughter was born, they named her Ethel. The tiny new life seemed to melt the last of the ice between the women. Yet, Margarets unease resurfaced when she demanded a paternity test. Victor agreed without hesitationhed never doubted that Ethel was hisso the lab could confirm what his heart already knew.
The results came back, unmistakably confirming Victor as the father. Still, Margarets resolve hardened. She refused to accept Angela as part of the family and even suggested that Victor should end the relationship and hand the baby over to her.
Rage surged through Victor. He packed a bag, took Angela and baby Ethel, and walked out of the flat that had been his mothers home for years. Since that night, contact with Margaret has been sparse; Victor sees her as selfish, unable to embrace the woman who has become his wife and the child who carries his name. He mourns the lost years, but he will not bend to a mothers stubborn pride.
