Abandoned for Love
Mum returned from work, surprisingly aglow, her cheeks pink and carrying a strange, unfamiliar smilebright, almost magical, the sort of smile Alice hadnt seen in ages. Alices heart quickened, a flickering of hope inside; for the first time in a long while, her mother seemed almost happy.
Alice, I met a wonderful man at work today! Mum announced as she hung up her raincoat and knelt before her, taking her small hands into her own. His names Nicholas. He works with property developersso steady, reliable.
Alice nodded, not fully grasping the importance of it, yet her mothers delight was infectious, her eyes bright, smile infectious. Some little ember of hope lit inside Alicea moments warmth tumbling through her heart.
In the following weeks, Mum could speak of little except Nicholas: how he delivered groceries for an elderly neighbour, how he started a charity drive at work for underprivileged children, how he could mend just about anything. Alice listened silently, always with a nagging anxietysomething was about to change, and perhaps not for the better. A hunch within her small heart said that soon, everything would be different.
Their first encounter with Nicholas took place in a snug, odd tea room down the lanetables balanced by books, walls lined with fraying London travel posters. Nicholas was tall and neat, with clipped hair and a set jaw. He smiled rarely, and when he did, it barely reached his cool, distant eyes.
This is Alice, Mum ruffled her hair in that familiar, comforting way, steadying Alice a little. Shes eight, Year 3 at school.
Nicholas merely nodded, casting a swift, appraising gaze at her, as if she were no more than a boot rack by the door. He then turned his full attention back to Mum.
Yes, shes a pretty child. How old did you say she is?
Eight, darling, just eight, Mum beamed, oblivious to his indifference.
Throughout the evening, Nicholas focused almost entirely on Mum, tossing dry, clipped remarks in Alices directionshort and dismissive, as if she were a distraction. When, bored, Alice dared to ask if she could go watch the goldfish in the tank by the door, he wrinkled his nose:
Dont touch anything, mind.
But Mum saw nothing amiss, too enchanted, too blinded by the newness of it all. And Alice realised, heart sinking, that Nicholas would never be the gentle father shed quietly wished for: no more stories at bedtime, no teaching her to ride a bike, no warm embrace. Nothing at all.
Soon Nicholas was visiting often, always bearing giftsbut gifts for Mum only. Alice never saw as much as a chocolate, and when she spoke, Nicholas answered absentmindedly, never really engaging, drawing away slightly if she got too close, as if she were mildly repellent.
One grim day, Alice, reaching for something, knocked his mug, and a few drops of tea fell onto the sleeve of his pressed striped shirt. He drew his arm away sharply.
Careless, arent you? he bit out.
Mum hurried to apologise, fluttering, Sorry, Nick. Alicebring a napkin, quick.
As Alice scurried to the kitchen, she overheard his chilly monotone from the next roomcold, clipped, like steel.
Alice is noisy and clumsy. Always underfoot! Shes more trouble than shes worth.
Shes just a child, Mum tried to keep her voice soft, but Alice caught the tremor, barely concealed worry. She needs a father in her life.
Who says Ill be her father? Nicholas replied, his voice flat. I have no intention of raising someone elses child.
Mum should have listened to those words But love blinded her. She thought Nicholas was the best man in the world. She was wrong.
After their quiet weddingjust six months after that tea room, barely a whisper of celebrationNicholas moved in. The flat, once lively with Mums laughter and bedtime tales, now felt cold, emptied of warmth.
Nicholas didnt shout at Alice or punish her, but his silent disapproval spilled from every glance, every motion. If Alice laughed too loudly, hed lift an eyebrow; her laughter dried in her throat as if the air had left the room. Answers to her questions, when offered at all, were curt, a wall of indifference she could not scale.
One night, as Alice lay in bed, pretending to sleep, she overheard them in the sitting roomNicholass irritation clear, not even trying for kindness. Curious, frightened, she padded to the door to listen.
I cant do it any more, Viv, Nicholas ground out her mothers name. Every time I see her, all I think of is your ex-husband. Shes the spitting image. Theres nothing of you in her. I dont feel anything for her but annoyance. Its strangling our marriage. Do something.
What do you want me to do? Mums reply was barely audible, streaked with defeat.
You have a choice. Either she moves in with your mother, or I leave. I cant live with her here.
For a terrified moment Alice feared breathing would give her away.
Mums answer circled slowly through the darkness: All right. Ill ask Mum. Shes nearby. Alice will be fine
Nicholass tone softened, triumphant. I knew youd understand. Theres no point in having her here. And, if we want a child, youll have a son for me, wont you?
Alice pressed her palm against her mouth, but tears slipped through anyway, stinging her cheeks. Mum had agreed. Nicholas mattered more than Alice didmore than her little girl who believed in her utterly.
The next day, Mum averted her gaze and said: Darling, Gran misses you so. Why dont you go stay with her for a bit? Just two weeks, darling. Ill see you every day.
Alice nodded, swallowing great hot tears, understanding everything without the need for words. Inside, an emptiness spreadsomething had been torn away.
Three days later she moved in with Gran. Gran welcomed her with hugs and apple tarts, their comforting smell filling her nostrils, but nothingno sweetnesscould warm Alices soul now. She felt discarded, like a forgotten old storybook. Mum kept her word and visited but with every passing week, the visits grew shorter, then less frequent. It was as though Alice had slipped out of Mums life entirely.
On those cold evenings, Gran would stroke her hair at bedtime and whisper, It will all come right, love. It always does.
But Alice already knew her life was forever changed. A splinter of sadness was hers to keep, a fissure deep and uncertain, never knowing if it would ever heal.
***
At first, Mum visited oftenalmost nightly after work. Shed squeeze Alice tight, bring her favourite toffees, try to joke, but her eyes were distant and her smile brittlelike a porcelain doll, lovely but empty inside.
How are you, my darling? Is Gran treating you all right?
Yes, shes lovely, Gran bakes apple tart
Thats good. Mum nodded, but her eyes drifted away. Its justoh, I miss you, Alice. I just cant bring you home yet. Hold on for me, sweetheart.
Alice tried her best to beam. But inside, she saw Mum wasnt sincere. Mum seemed almost relieved; it spared her the daily sight of Nicholass frown, the way he recoiled whenever Alice spoke, the way he simply seemed not to see herlike she was only a draught, not a person.
Over time, Mums visits dwindled. First every night, then every other, then only weekends. Until one Saturday, Mum phoned instead:
Alice, love, Nicholas and I have tickets for the playhouse tonight. Ill come by tomorrowwill bring your favourite ice cream.
Alice swallowed the ache in her throat, so huge it nearly choked her.
Of course, Mum. Have fun.
She replaced the receiver and perched at the window, watching rain tap on the leaves. She realised, sharply, that Mum had chosen Nicholas. Pain filled her, a weight on her chest, heavy as if Londons grey clouds pressed down.
Gran noticed her sadness and did all she couldsuggesting a walk round Regents Park, a ride on the roundabouts, a cup of hot chocolate. Alice followed, but nothingnot carousels, not fairy lightscould warm the place inside her where certainty and love used to live.
School became hard, too. Once chatty and open, Alice now hung back, watching the others from the edgetheir chatter falling away as tears threatened when anyone asked why she lived with Gran. She had no answerjust a shrug, hot tears smarting in her eyes.
One day, walking home head down, Alice bumped into someone.
Oh, sorry! she cried, looking up. Mum?
I was coming to youwanted to surprise you, Mum said, almost apologetically.
They walked together. Mum spoke about how Nicholas had helped her choose a new coat, but Alice only half-listened, letting her mums voice soak in, wishing the walk would never end.
Mum, why dont you come as often any more?
Mum stopped, knelt, looked right at herher pain so like Alices own.
Sweetheart, I love you so much and I want to be with youbut I love Nicholas, too. Its as if Im torn in half. Leaving youits like tearing out a piece of my heart.
You didnt have to send me to Gran Alices voice was small, crushed with every bit of childhoods wounded longing. Why did you listen to him?
Mums eyes filled with tears.
I thought it was best for everyone. But I see nowI was wrong.
Alice said nothing, wanting to hug her mum, to say shed forgiven her. But under the surface, the old ache still pressed in, sharp and unforgiving.
I promise Ill come more, Mum said, squeezing her hand.
Alice nodded, not believing. If Mum meant it, shed have already done so.
But Mum really did visit almost daily for a while. They walked, went to the cinema, baked scones. Alice allowed herself to hope that things would go back to before, to believe shed soon fall asleep to Mums voice again. But one evening, Mum looked guilty, and instantly Alice knewsomething was wrong.
Darling, Nicholas says Im spending too much time with you. He says I need to remember who my family is.
Alice felt cold, as if wrapped in Thames mist.
Sowhat now? She tried not to tremble.
He suggesteda compromise. You come at weekends, and stay with Gran in the week.
Okay. That sounds easier, she lied.
But nothing got easier. Her life was unpicked and resewn: weekdays with Gran, helping in the kitchen and pretending nothing was wrong; weekends at Mums, acting the good daughter, smiling for Nicholas, keeping out of sight. Playing the role everyone wanted.
Even then, Nicholas remained withdrawn. He nodded, might ask after her lessons, but with that same frownnever warmth. Mum wore herself out, always balancing her guilt towards Alice with her longing for harmony at home. Alice saw the tollMums tiredness, her dimming eyes.
Months crawled by. Alice grew adept at hiding all feeling, at pretending all was well. She excelled at school, helped at home, made a few friendsbut a wound lingered still, beginning with that, Go on and stay with Gran awhile
Gran, though, always held her tight and whispered, You havent done a thing wrong, love. You are my world. Ill always be here.
Those words comforted, but nothing now could mend completely that old hurther mother, who chose someone else instead of her.
***
Years slipped by. Alice turned ten, then eleven, then twelve. Her split lifeweekdays with Gran, weekends with Mumbecame normal. She learned not to expect much, never to hope for miracles.
She was close to a handful of girls at schoolenough to chat about lessons, or the newest movie, but none she trusted all the way. Part of her still worried theyd leave, like Mum had. A quiet fear: that people dont stay.
With Gran, though, she drew closer. Gran taught her baking, how to knit scarves, to sew. Their little flat always smelt of vanilla and cinnamon, geraniums and violets bright at the windowa reminder that even the greyest English day could hide a bit of beauty.
Gran, why do you never scold me? Alice asked once, eating still-warm biscuits.
Gran smiled, tucked a strand of Alices hair behind her ear, gentle as words unspoken.
Why would I scold you, love? You never mean harm. Youre my clever girl.
Alices throat tightened. Grans presence made the hurt recede; with her, the world was softly kind again.
One Saturday, Mum arrived earlier than usual.
Up you get, sleepyhead, she whispered, gently rocking Alices shoulder. It was the old gentleness, and Alice, for a moment, forgot every sting and bruise of the past. Were off to the fair on Primrose Hill. Nicholas has tickets for all the rides.
Alice blinked, surprisedNicholas rarely acknowledged her, never wanted her around.
Really?
Yes, really, Mum smiled. He wants us to have a family day.
In the park, Nicholas acted almost like an ordinary parent: treating them to the Ferris wheel, buying candy floss, snapping a photo by the fountains. Alice caught herself hopingmaybe things were changing after all. Maybe hed finally accepted her. Her hope was so sharp it was almost painful.
That evening, Nicholas called Mum aside. Alice hadnt meant to eavesdrop, but his words were sharp, unmistakable
Ive done enough. I cant play doting dad. Lets just have her come over for birthdays and Christmas. Its fairer for us all.
Mum sighed. All right, Nicholas. Whatever you say.
Alice retreated then and wrapped herself in Grans handknitted blanket, realising with finalityNicholas would never want her. Mum would always choose him. Her heart went empty as rain drains on a November night.
The next day, Mum came alone.
Alice, darling, Nicholas thinks its best we see each other less often. He wants peace and order
And me? Alices lips trembled, though she made herself speak. Do my feelings matter?
Mum patted her hand, the gesture feeling remote. Youre older now, love. Youll understand. Well see each other, just not as often.
Alices heart froze. No pain, just clarityshe didnt fit into their happy family anymore. It was as if shed been erased.
From then, visits became rare except on holidays, the odd weekend if Nicholas was in good spirits. Alice taught herself never to expect too much. She spent more time with Gran, helped her in the vegetable garden, learned to pickle onions, made new friends in the square. And slowly she realised the world stretched beyond her family; there were people who valued her simply for herself.
At thirteen, Alice told Gran, I think Ive forgiven Mum now. Its useless to hold onto painshes living her life, and Im living mine. Its easier now.
Grans embrace was solid and fierce. Well done, darling. Dont clog your heart with anger. Your mums just a frightened woman, afraid to be alone. Life will judge.
***
By fifteen, Alice knew what she wanted. She excelled in English and Art. Her English teacher, Mrs Beecham, once told her, You have a gift, Alice. You write with your heart. Consider journalism or writing.
Mrs Beechams words healed her more than shed expected. Alice started a journallittle stories, images, fragments. Writing was freeing: the words came, carrying feeling that she couldnt say aloud. In her journal she was whole, unguarded.
One day, Gran found her notebook. Alice panicked, but Gran only smiled, wise and encouraging.
Shall I keep this for you? Someday youll be a proper author, and this will be worth gold.
Alice laughed, the first true laugh in years.
You think so?
Im certain, darling. Your heart sees what others miss.
Alice got into journalism at a London college. Her own choiceher step into independence. Mum was glad.
Good for you, Alice. Youre a bright spark.
They were drinking tea in Grans sunny kitchen. Nicholas did not join in.
Mum, Alice asked, if it happened againwould you still send me to Grans?
Mum paused, gaze lost in her tea. Her lips trembled.
No. Id do things differently. I was frightened, unsure. But I know nowyou matter most.
Alice nodded. The words soothed old wounds at last. She felt lighter, as if shed set down a heavy suitcase.
After uni, Alice found work on a local paper. She wrote about Londoners, small stories making a tapestry of life. Once, she covered a charity day at a childrens home. Speaking with the children, she saw sadness familiar to her own once. She knew she could helpwith words, with stories.
On her way home that evening, she realisedevery sad day had made her strong, taught her compassion. Her scars became wisdom, a gentle, bold heart.
***
Alice married Sama kind, reliable man who instantly bonded with Gran. There was no false courtesyonly genuine warmth.
When their daughter, Beth, was born, Alice promised herself: Beth would never feel unwanted. Each night, Alice told her stories, hugged her close, planted kisses on her crown, and whispered, Youre my most precious thing.
One day, Beth, aged five, rummaged through Grans photo albums.
Gran, is that you in this picture? she pointed at a faded photograph of a young wife and husband.
Yes, loveits me and Grandad, long ago.
Mum, were you little once?
Alice knelt, pushed Beths soft hair behind her ear.
Of course, love. I grew up right here with Gran.
Did she love you?
Oh yes, dearly, Alice pulled Beth close, breathing in her scentwarm and sweet.
Beth pondered this. Im luckyIve got you, and Gran, and Daddy.
Alice felt tears prickle, but this time they were warm, tender.
Yes, my darling. You are.
Gran and Mum came in, catching the tail of the conversation.
Whats all this plotting? Gran teased, but in her eyes, Alice saw real prideat last, the love Mum had struggled to give was clear.
Were talking about love, Beth said solemnly. Gran loves you, Mum loves mewe all love each other!
Mum looked at Alice, this time with nothing but true, unconditional love.
Yes. We do. And we always will.
Alice took Mums handand believed it, at last.
Later, when Beth was asleep, Gran in the kitchen, Mum turned to Alice.
I lost so much, Alice. I tried so hard not to be alone, I almost lost you. Forgive me.
Alice considered. For the first time, she felt only peacean adult sadness for time that could never be reclaimed.
I understand, Mum. You were just trying to be happy. But now, we get to make something real.
***
The years went on. Beth grewlaughing, jumping, learning, always certain of her family around her. Gran baked, Mum told stories, Dad played the clown, and Alice wrotearticles, stories, a book, and into it all she wove truth: loss, forgiveness, and the finding of oneself.
One evening, as Alice flicked through her published book, Beth called from the lounge,
Mum! Gran says thats your real bookwith your photo on the front!
Alice smiled, slipped her arm around Beth.
Yes, sweetheart, its mine. Its about how important it is to believe in yourself and love fully.
When I grow up, I can write a book too?
Of course, darling. Just be truthful and remember: well always love you, whatever happens.
Beth nodded, solemnthe way only a child can. Alice, watching her, thought: This is happiness. Here, with the people who truly love you, and with the power to love in return.
She turned to the window, the London night spangled with stars, feeling a deep, quiet gratitudefor Gran, for Mum, for Sam, for Bethfor every hard step that led her here, to this moment, this full and honest life.
