The Puppy
Emily and her mum lived alone. Emily had a father, of course, but he didn’t want anything to do with them. She hadn’t asked about him yet—while schoolkids brag about whose parents are cooler, in nursery, toys mattered more than missing fathers.
Hope had decided it was better if Emily never learned the truth—that she’d fallen head over heels for the man who would become her father, only for him to confess, when she told him about the pregnancy, that he was married. “Problems with the wife,” he’d said, “but I can’t leave—her father’s my boss. If I do, I’ll be left with nothing, and you won’t want a man with empty pockets.” He’d suggested she “take care of it” before it was too late, warning her she’d get no child support. If she went through with it, she’d regret it…
She didn’t argue. She vanished from his life and raised Emily alone. And Emily turned out lovely—that was enough.
Hope worked as a primary school teacher, while five-year-old Emily went to nursery. They needed no one else.
After the New Year, a new P.E. instructor joined the school. Tall, fit, always grinning. Every single woman on staff—and there were plenty—started flirting, laughing at his jokes. All except Hope. Maybe that’s why he noticed her.
One afternoon, as she left through the school gates, a black Range Rover pulled up beside her. The P.E. teacher stepped out and swung the passenger door open.
“Hop in,” he smiled, nodding at the seat.
“It’s not far—just down the road,” Hope said, hesitating.
“Still better than walking,” he countered smoothly.
After a pause, she climbed in. He shut the door, settled behind the wheel, and asked for her address.
“I don’t know the street number. Just the nursery.” She fiddled with her sleeve.
“Nursery?” His brow furrowed.
“Where my daughter goes,” she clarified.
“You’ve got a kid? How old?” He’d switched to informal “you” without missing a beat.
“Emily. She’s five.” Hope grabbed the door handle. “I’ll walk.”
“Wait. Let’s drive.” The engine roared to life.
She let go. Fine—he could drop her off. It wasn’t like anything could happen between them. Why would a man want a woman “with baggage” when there were plenty without?
“If you’ve got time…” she sighed.
“Plenty. No wife, no kids waiting.” He flashed a grin, preempting questions.
“Why’s that? Awful temper? Or someone broke your heart?”
“Feisty. Didn’t expect that.” He chuckled. “Had my share of heartbreak. Never made it to marriage—not always my fault. And temper? Nobody’s perfect, Miss Hope. You’re not what you seem either.”
“Regret offering me a lift? Turn left here—just up ahead.”
The car stopped outside the nursery gates.
“I’ll wait,” he said as she stepped out.
She lingered by the car. “Don’t. We live close. I don’t want her asking questions. Understood, James?” Her tone was firm, as if scolding a pupil. “Don’t wait.” She shut the door and walked away.
Inside the car, James Blackwood sat for a long moment, thoughtful. Then he drove off. Ten minutes later, when Hope emerged hand-in-hand with Emily, she exhaled—equal parts relief and disappointment. Of course. A woman with a kid wasn’t what he wanted. Good. “We don’t need him either,” she told herself.
But the next day, he was there again.
“Thought I’d run off when I heard about your daughter, didn’t you? Wrong. Get in. Nursery again?”
She smiled. When she brought Emily to the car, the girl studied James with the same skepticism Hope had shown the day before, then looked up at her mum.
“My colleague, Mr. Blackwood. He teaches P.E. Go on, hop in,” Hope said, forcing cheeriness.
Emily didn’t bounce with excitement. She climbed silently into the backseat and stared out the window.
“Where to?” James twisted to face her.
“Not too far. No child seat—could get fined,” Hope answered for her.
“The arcade, then. Too cold for the park. Emily, sound good?”
No reply. James smirked and pulled away.
At school, conversations halted when Hope entered the staff room. When James walked in, colleagues scattered with knowing looks.
He didn’t rush things. Patient. Twice, he left after dinner. The third time, he stayed till morning. Hope slept fitfully, checking the clock, terrified Emily would walk in on them.
“Relax. She’s smart. She’ll adjust,” James murmured at dawn, pulling Hope close.
She wriggled free. On weekdays, Emily slept like a log—today, of course, she woke early. When the girl padded into the kitchen after washing up, Hope was flipping pancakes, James at the table.
“Hi,” Emily said, eyeing her mum for an explanation.
“All clean? Breakfast’s ready.” Hope smiled—first at James, then Emily—and brought the pan to the table.
She served James first. Emily noticed.
“Dig in,” Hope said, pouring tea. “How many sugars?”
“Two.” James watched Emily. “Race you with the pancakes?”
“Why?”
“Just fun. A real man takes a challenge.” He forked a bite, slurped his tea theatrically.
Emily chewed slowly, indifferent. Hope swelled with pride—her girl wasn’t easily swayed—but her heart sank. James wasn’t winning her over.
“Mum says your birthday’s soon. What do you want? A robot? RC car?” James tried another angle.
“A puppy.”
“An electronic one? Those are for babies.”
“A real one.” Emily’s look said: *Are you stupid?*
“We talked about this,” Hope cut in. “Puppies need care. They chew things, pee everywhere. We’re out all day. When you’re older—”
“Then I don’t want anything.” Emily’s voice cracked.
“Finish up. We’ll hit the toy store, maybe something’ll catch your eye,” James said, swallowing the last bite.
March’s warmth vanished overnight. Ice wind hissed, needling their faces as they left the mall. Hope carried bags—new shoes for Emily, outgrowing everything, always too fast. James held a big box (*That transformer she almost wanted*), when a blur of fur darted at their feet.
“Bloody hell!” James snarled. “Almost stepped on it.”
Emily dropped to her knees. A shivering, mud-caked puppy cowered by James’s shoes.
“Sod off.” He kicked it. The pup yelped, skidding toward the car wheels.
Emily scooped it up, glaring. “You’re horrible!”
“Emily! Apologise!” Hope demanded.
The girl clutched the trembling pup tighter.
“She’s right—it’s filthy, probably sick. Put it down!”
Emily’s grip tightened. *No.*
“He’ll freeze. We’ll wash him. I’ll clean up after him.” Her chin wobbled.
“Your mum’s right. We’ll get a proper one next weekend,” James said, handing Hope the bags. “Give it here.”
Emily spun and bolted—straight into a reversing car.
“EMILY!”
The bumper clipped her. She sat on the tarmac, still cradling the pup, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Where does it hurt? Let him go!” Hope wiped her face.
“Watch your kid, love,” the driver snapped. “Not my fault—blind spot!”
“Move along. No harm done,” James said, hauling Hope back.
At the pavement, Emily refused to release the pup.
“Enough! You’re letting her walk all over you,” James snapped. “Needs a proper wallop!”
“Stop. Let’s just go home.” Hope’s voice was weary.
“He’s mine. And I’m *not* going with *him*.” Emily’s glare could melt steel. “You kicked him *on purpose*.”
“Watch your mouth, brat! Didn’t need it pissing in my car!”
“James, *enough*! She’s *my* child!” Hope rounded on him. “Fine. Keep him.” She shot Emily a look. “But we’re driving. It’s freezing.”
Clouds swallowed the sun. The ride home was silent. At their door, Hope told James to leave.
“You’ll regret this,” he spat. “Who else’ll take you *and* your spoiled brat?”
She shoved him out, slammed the door. In the living room, Emily giggled as the pup licked her fingers.
“Mum, look! He’s *smiling*!”
Hope watched, bittersweet. She’d been wrong about James. But Emily’s joy—that was real.
And as she watched her daughter laugh with the puppy nestled in her arms, Hope realized that sometimes happiness comes not in the shape of a man, but in the form of a child’s unshakable love and a scruffy, grateful little dog.
