The words twisted in the cold air like stray snowflakes: “You’re rubbish. I’ll go live with Dad.”
Every day, people walked past each other without a glance, no spark, no pull—just strangers in motion. Then, one winter afternoon, amid the clatter of skates on ice, she saw him. Not just saw him—felt him, like a jolt to her ribs, her stomach alive with wings. And he felt it too, staring back as if the world had narrowed to just her face. After that, there was no turning away. Life apart made no sense anymore.
That was how Lucy fell in love with Darren.
One frosty Sunday, she went ice-skating with her mates. Lucy wobbled like a newborn colt, gripping the rail while her friends whizzed ahead. Exhausted, she edged toward the barrier—until someone collided with her, sending her sprawling onto the ice, hip and knee throbbing.
“Christ, sorry! You all right?” A hand yanked her upright before she could blink. She winced, her knee buckling, but he caught her. When their eyes met, the rink’s noise—laughter, scraping blades—vanished.
“Steady?” he asked.
Dazed, Lucy clutched his sleeves.
“Gonna fall if I let go?”
“Dunno,” she whispered.
He grinned. “Good enough.” His arms loosened, and she stood firm.
“Right, let’s get you off this ice.”
They hobbled to a bench. He fetched her shoes. By the time they left, Lucy knew his name—Darren, four years older, working as a mechanic—and that she’d see him again. Not at the rink, though. “The cinema,” she insisted.
He called the next day. By spring, they were inseparable.
When Darren’s parents left for their cottage on weekends, the flat became theirs. Summer blurred into autumn, and when evenings grew too cold for stolen hours, Lucy pressed against him. “What now?”
“I’ll figure it out,” he promised.
Then her mum asked him point-blank: “How long you’ll mess my daughter about?”
“I planned to propose at New Year’s,” he admitted. “But if you want it now—Lucy, will you?”
Her face burned.
Her mum beamed. “That’s more like it. Ring can come later.”
They married in April, birds singing over melting snow. Darren had scraped together a deposit, wedding gifts covering the rest. “No kids yet,” he insisted. “Mortgage first.”
Years passed. Lucy graduated, took a job. When she brought up children, Darren scowled.
“Focus on the bills. Why rush?”
But her friends pushed prams, some with second babies. Eventually, he relented—on his terms. “Have it. But don’t ask me to help. Nappies, nights—your job. Agree?”
She swallowed the sting. “You’re scared I’ll love them more.”
“Just don’t complain later.”
The pregnancy test showed two lines. Darren’s face didn’t. He vanished with mates; mornings, Lucy retched alone. He never touched her bump, never asked. “He’ll change when he sees her,” she told herself.
He didn’t.
When little Sophie was born, he recoiled from her cries. “Sort it,” he’d say, transferring money for nappies but never lifting a finger.
“You used to dress nice,” he muttered once, eyeing her stained dressing gown.
Next day, she wore jeans, mascara. He didn’t notice.
Sophie grew. Ran to him. “Go to Mum,” he’d grunt, nudging her aside.
Lucy’s heart cracked.
One day, she saw him—leaving a café, arm in arm with another woman.
He didn’t deny it. “I provide. That’s enough.”
She packed Sophie’s things. “We’re leaving.”
Darren snorted. “You’ll crawl back.”
At her mum’s, Sophie wailed, “Want Dad!”
Her mum sighed. “Go back, love. He pays.”
Lucy refused.
Years passed. Sophie, now ten, snarled, “You’re rubbish! I’ll live with Dad!”
“Fine. Go.”
Sophie did—for three weeks. Then Darren’s new girlfriend, Yana, dumped her back. “They’re going to Spain,” Sophie sobbed. “Said they’ll have their own baby. Nobody wants me.”
Lucy held her. “I do.”
Months later, in the shopping centre, Sophie spotted Yana. “She ignored me!”
“Course she did,” Lucy murmured. “People like that always do.”
Darren vanished for good.
When Lucy met Victor, Sophie threatened, “I’ll go to Dad!”
“Go then.”
She didn’t. But when Lucy announced her pregnancy, Sophie fled to her gran’s.
Lucy wondered—why did Sophie love a father who’d never loved her?
Perhaps she’d smothered her, loved her too fiercely.
Well. She’d learn, with the new baby.
