This is the tale of mea woman of 27 with lofty dreams of motherhoodbut fate, with its twisted sense of humour, handed me only one child, and that from a married man I loved rather desperately. Alas, his steadfast principles would sooner see him reading the Telegraph backwards than leaving his wife for me. So, I found myself pregnant. To my surprise, my lover actually supported me, but as for family, only my father decided to stick around. In his mind, having a child without a husband was akin to declaring war on the Queen, and he flatly refused to recognise my daughter as his granddaughter. My heart simply couldnt bear to bring my little girl into my parents home, only to have her treated like an unwelcome Amazon package.
Mum pleaded endlessly for us to come round, but I knew she was the only one truly eager to see us. My brother, meanwhile, adored both me and my daughteras only a brother could, with equal parts exasperation and baffled affection. When my little girl turned two, my brother announced he was getting married and insisted we join the celebration. At first, I hesitated; the last thing I wanted was to rain on his bunting-laden parade. I fully expected Dad to give us his best Churchillian scowl and make the whole thing awkward. Still, between my brother, Mum, and soon-to-be sister-in-law, I was coaxed into acceptance.
The wedding was positively overflowing with children, but my daughter stood outnot so much because she was particularly gorgeous, but because she seemed just a shade darker than the rest. I followed her around all evening, worrying ridiculous things only mothers can worry about. The funny thing is, Dads always had a soft spot for little ones, but what happened next still caught me utterly off guard. There he was, my father, hoisting my daughter onto his lapchatting away, cheeks crinkled in a smile, like a proper grandad. I stayed out of their way and just let them be, heart swelling awkwardly in my chest.
The night finished on such a touching note. Dad found me, hugged me like he hadnt done since I was five, and offered a heartfelt apology. He begged us to return homewith granddaughter in tow, of course. Naturally, the guests all started whispering (See that? The prodigal daughter and the tiny outcast!), but somehow, none of that mattered anymore. I forgave my fathergrudges just felt old-fashioned after thatand now, my daughter has her grandad. Isnt that what true happiness is really about?
