The Daughter
Leonard slowed his car, spotting two young girls frantically waving their hands by the roadside. “What kind of parents let girls this young hitch rides? Barely teenagers,” he muttered. He hadn’t driven through this part of the countryside in years—no reason to. The place felt like a dead end, nothing beyond but rolling hills.
“Where d’you need to go?” Leonard leaned out the window, eyeing them.
“Yarnton, please!” The girls couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. Tight jeans, oversized hoodies, windswept fringes, and wide, trusting eyes.
“That’s a fair way. But fine, I’m headed that direction. Hop in.”
The moment they settled into the backseat, Leonard launched into a lecture. “You’re too young to be hitchin’ rides. You don’t know me—what if I wasn’t safe?”
“Sir, the bus didn’t come,” one said, flustered. “We went to the town centre and hitched back. Now we’re stuck again.”
“You should’ve waited for the next bus.” He turned, locking eyes with the quieter girl—blue-eyed, guileless, the kind of child who still believed the best of strangers.
“Where are your parents, eh?”
“It’s our first time!” the girl chirped. “But we can tell you’re nice.”
“Cheeky little thing,” Leonard huffed, though the praise warmed him. “Still, don’t go gettin’ in cars with just anyone. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
He could’ve dropped them at the village outskirts, but feeling oddly protective, he drove on.
“We don’t have much money,” the girls fretted as they neared the first row of houses.
“Didn’t ask for any,” he grunted. “I’ll take you proper.”
He dropped Ellie at her lane, but Mia lived further in. Leonard almost wished he’d seen Ellie’s parents—someone to scold for letting her wander alone.
“Stop here—that’s ours!” Mia pointed, eyes bright as if she’d been gone months, not hours. “I’ll fetch you some money—”
“Keep it. Just get me some water. Your parents home?”
“Mum should be—” The garden gate swung open before she finished. A woman in a headscarf and muddy wellies strode over, frowning.
“What’s this? Why weren’t you on the bus?”
“Exactly my point,” Leonard cut in. “Two girls hitchin’ alone? Reckless.”
“They always take the bus to town,” the woman defended weakly. “Thank you for—” Her voice died mid-sentence. Leonard had removed his cap, and recognition flickered. They’d known each other—once.
“Len? Is that you?” She yanked off the scarf, staring.
“Yeah. Leonard. And you’re—Christ—Vera Fenton? Blimey, barely recognised you.”
“Likewise. Balding already? Bit young for that.”
Leonard flushed. “So she’s yours, then?”
“Mine, Len. Always mine.” She turned to her daughter. “Mia, go inside. Lunch is on.”
The girl lingered, curious, before darting off.
“*Mine*,” Vera repeated, voice sharp. “I didn’t abandon her like you did.”
Leonard stiffened. “Hold on—we *talked*. Wasn’t my call—”
“Wasn’t your call?” She laughed bitterly. “You made it clear it was *my* problem. So we left. Simple as that.”
“Still a shock, all this. I just gave a lift—how was I to know? How old is she?”
“Fourteen. Didn’t you notice? She’s got your eyes.” Vera’s voice wavered. “Never paid mind before. But seein’ you now… it’s obvious.”
“What d’you want, Vera?” Leonard edged toward the car.
“Nothing. Didn’t beg then; won’t now. We don’t need a thing from you. Just thought you should know.”
“Right. I’m off, then.” He slid into the driver’s seat, but Vera rapped the window before he could shut it.
“Forgot to say *thanks*,” she said, voice tight. “For bringin’ her home. Funny, isn’t it? After all these years… Some things happen just once. Still, you did right by her today. Proves even a deadbeat dad can be useful once in his life.” She stepped back, waving dismissively.
Leonard had no reply. He drove off, cursing himself for freezing up. Rumours had reached him over the years—Vera raising a child alone—but he’d pretended it didn’t concern him. Now, the guilt gnawed.
His life wasn’t bad. Comfortable, even—his wife ran two boutiques; he helped. They’d never had kids of their own, though. Just her son from a first marriage. No time for more, she always said. He sighed, picturing Mia’s eyes—*his* eyes—and for a mad second, considered returning.
Then he remembered Vera’s glare—cold, final—and his wife’s iron will. The same fear from fourteen years ago coiled in his gut.
____________________
“Who was that?” Michael emerged from the vegetable patch, scowling at the unfamiliar car. “Mia ridin’ with strangers now? Mia—get out here!”
“Dad, I was with Ellie! The man was nice—he drove us!”
Michael wiped sweat from his brow. “You don’t *do* that. Scares me and your mum half to death. Your brother looks up to you—set an example. Next time, *wait for the bus*.”
“Mike—quick word.” Vera pulled him aside. “No point hidin’ it. That was her biological father. The one I told you about. Just happened to be passin’ through.”
“And he *knows*?”
“He does now. Had to tell him.”
Michael scoffed. “*I* raised her. *I* walked her to school, went to parents’ evenings, and now this geezer shows up—”
“Relax. He’s a coward. Won’t come sniffin’ round. Might lose sleep over it—might not. Should we tell Mia?”
“She knows she’s adopted,” Michael muttered, slumping onto the garden bench. “Suppose we should. Doubt she’ll love me less for it.”
Mia burst outside, throwing her arms around them. “Missed you!”
“One day?” Michael laughed.
“Swear I did!”
“Believe you, love.” He hugged her back, smiling.
