The dreadful truth came to light by sheer chance. My four-year-old sister, Lucy, had developed an umbilical hernia. The doctors warned usdont delay. The sooner she had the surgery, the better. But Lucy refused point-blank to go to the hospital without Dad. We waited for him to return from his lorry route, and he walked her all the way to the operating theatre.
“Daddy, will you wait for me here?” my sister sobbed.
“Where else would I go, love? Of course Ill wait. Why are you crying? Youre my brave girl, arent you?”
“Im not crying! Im just sighing!”
And with that, they wheeled her away. A routine procedure, nothing complicated. But the hospital insisted Mum and Dad donate bloodnon-negotiable.
“Shouldnt you test first?” Dad asked. “Only one of us will match. No point both of us giving if its unnecessary.”
“Theres no such thing as unnecessary blood,” the doctor said firmly.
So they both donated. Mum was pale, swaying on her feet like she might faint any second. Afterward, she couldnt sit stillkept darting to the nurses station, chatting anxiously. When Lucy was finally wheeled out, Dad went to meet her, just as hed promised. He stayed by her side the whole weekend. Mum seemed to calm down, visited briefly, then dragged me home despite my protests.
“I could stay with her too,” I insisted stubbornly.
I was eleven by then. Lucy, my little blonde sister, was my whole world. Maybe even more than Mum and Dad. How could anyone not love her? An angel. A golden-haired angel in pigtails.
Picture a small market town with its modest hospital. New, well-equippedeven had a blood bank, of all things. But a backwaters a backwater. Three days later, Lucy was home, and Dad was packing for another haul. He popped out for cigarettesbut returned thunder-faced.
“Daddy!” Lucy wailed from her room (she was still on bed rest). “Did you get my marshmallows?”
Dad dropped the shopping bag in the hallway. Told me sharply to go to Lucys room. Then he gripped Mums elbow and steered her into the kitchen.
“John John, whats wrong?”
What followed was a conversation I wouldnt understand for years. Lucy was too little, and I obeyed Dad without question. Off to her room I went. When she started whining for Dad and her sweets, I offered to read to her. Thank God, she agreed.
In the kitchen, Johneyes wildbacked Mum, Janet, against the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.
“Is it true? Lucys not mine?”
“WhathowJohn, have you lost your mind? How could you say that?”
“Ill tell you how. Im blood type A-positive. Youre O-positive. But hers” He jerked his head toward Lucys room. “AB-negative. If they messed up, we can re-test.”
Janet shoved past him, slumped at the table, and dropped her head into her hands. “Bastards. I *told* them not to say anything. Whats wrong with them? Jealous, John. Theyre jealous of us. Weve got everything. Beautiful kids.”
“You *told* them. Right. Got it.”
He stormed out, leaving Janet weeping. One mistake. One bloody mistake, years ago, with that engineer visiting on business. Dad was always away, hauling freight. Glamorous in films, lonely in reality. Cold, empty nights. Shed convinced herself he wasnt faithful eitherhow could he be, gone so much? She leapt up, ran after himbut he was already gone. Only the marshmallows remained on the table.
After his next route, Dad sat me down. Asked me to live with him.
“Dad, what about Lucy? Mum? Cant you stay?”
It was like a boulder crushing me. Rocks are made of layersId seen documentaries. The weight on my shoulders had layers too. Fear of losing Dad. Fear of choosing. Either way, someone got left behind. I did the maths: Lucy + Mum outnumbered Dad. Though Lucy alone mightve tipped the scales.
Dad met me often after that. Lucy? Forgotten. I didnt understand, but I knewif he couldve explained, he wouldve. At first, Lucy cried for him, a heart-wrenching sight. Then she stopped asking. Withdrew into herself, lost in her toys. I didnt know why this punishment fell on her, but I could guess. As for Mum
Mum lost it. Started dragging junk home from the tip. First harmless bitsuseful, even. Then anything and everything. Stopped caring about us entirely. Just sat among her trash, muttering, sorting. How a young, beautiful woman could become *that* in eighteen monthsI couldnt fathom. But I never told Dad. Our neighbour, Auntie Mary, looked after me and sometimes Lucy. Dads maintenance money covered food, barely. The stench clinging to our flat? School was hell, but I avoided fights.
“Auntie Mary, can you teach me to iron?” I knocked on her door.
“Greg, love, you need to *wash* things first” She wrinkled her nose.
“Pointless. I tried. But Im seeing Dad tomorrow, and I cant”
“Wait, he doesnt” She gaped. “He doesnt know about Janet?”
“Im not telling him. He left. Its not his problem!”
She let me in, then hesitated. “Bring Lucy too. Ill sort you both. Andbring your clothes. Change here. Whatever I can do”
So we did. At least I didnt reek like a tramp at school anymore. But Auntie Mary went furthertracked Dad down, shamed him. He met me after school.
“Why didnt you say anything?”
“Would you have come back?”
“No. But you couldve lived with me.”
“And Lucy?”
Silence. I shook my head and turned toward home.
“Wait! Lucy could stay with Grandma.”
“Grandmas got a new bloke. Shes not interested.”
“Right. Takes after” Dad cut himself off.
He tried talking to his ex-mother-in-law anyway.
“John, are you mad? Why would I want kids? Im starting fresh!”
“But Lucys your granddaughter!”
“Pity.”
“*What?*”
“Pity motherhoods obvious, but fatherhood isnt. If Id had a son with kidswhod know if theyre really mine? But a granddaughter? Mine, sure. Still, Ive got my own life.”
“Yeah. Shouldve taken one look at you before marrying Jan.”
One morning, Mum was gone. Her hoard remainedour room was the only clean spacebut shed vanished. I opened the window; icy air diluted the stench. Fed Lucy, forced down breakfast, then took her to Auntie Mary.
“Mums missing. Ive got school.”
“Missing? Its freezing! Whered she go?”
My reckless, broken mother ended up dead on a distant landfill. Why she froze instead of coming homeno one knew. Auntie Mary said social services would decide our fate.
They came. A woman eyed our flat, then turned to Mary.
“Could we sort the paperwork at yours?”
“Fine, come in,” Mary sighed.
“Stop. No ones going anywhere.” Dads voice echoed up the stairs. “Just got off route. Theyre my kids.”
“The flat yours too?” the social worker smirked.
He didnt even glance inside. “Pack your things, Greg. Were leaving. Well deal with this later.”
“And Lucy?” I whispered, terrified.
“Obviously. Lucy, love, you too.”
My sister peeled herself from the wall, shuffled toward him.
“Daddy?”
“What, sweetheart?”
“Is it really you?”
He scooped her up, held her tight, exhaling roughly.
“Its me. Im here. Its alright.”
“Dont leave again, Daddy!” Lucy wailed.
I froze. Shed give us away, and that stern woman would take us despite Dad being alive. But the social worker was already gossiping with Mary. And Dadtears streamingheld Lucy like hed never let go. Hed tried so hard to resent her, to stay away. But love won. Love for us. His children.
“I wont. Im never leaving you again.”
