28February2025
Dear Diary,
I just left Taras flat after a long afternoon together. Drive safe, Emma! Do whatever you like! she sighed, exhausted, and I laughed, Its not a life, its a fairytale! I winked at her, then slipped out onto the street. The moment I got into my hatchback, the smile faded. I caught my own reflection in the rearview mirror and muttered, What a lousy piece of luck, to be honest Id rather be juggling four kids like you, Tara!
On paper I look like Ive got it all sorted: a decent job at the marketing agency, a shiny car, a cosy flat in Camden, and my fathers business empire backing me up. Yet no one could guess the hollow ache that sits behind my constant grin. Ive always wanted a familya big, bustling onebut that dream has slipped further away with each passing year. By the time I turned thirtytwo, Id tried every avenue: folk remedies, fertility clinics, even yoga and acupuncture, all to no avail. No children.
Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I whisper to my pillow, Why is it this way? and let the tears fall. I cant understand why people who binge on booze or drugs seem to pop out five or six babies without trouble. It feels cruel and baffling. Ive learned to hide the pain because I cant stand the pity or the whispers behind my back. Even Tara knows next to nothing about this part of my life.
When the conversation turns to children, I usually crack a joke, I just want to live for myself, and later Im sobbing on the sofa. I dont have a husband; my last relationship with Ian fell apart over our differing views on parenthood. He kept telling me, Dont worry, live for yourself and be happy! I replied, I cant stand that! I want to care for someone. If I cant conceive in the next three years, Ill adopt. Ian couldnt stomach the idea of anyone elses childespecially not one with a bad pedigree or a history of drinking. He cared more about my fathers money and his own business. After a huge argument we went our separate ways, and when he finally cleared out his things from my flat I felt an unexpected relief.
On my way home I realised I was out of eggs and needed something for tea. Maybe Ill treat myself to a new handbag while Im at the shopping centre? I thought, steering toward the high street. I planned to browse the stores, pop into the supermarket on the ground floor, then head back. I had no grand plans, and the thought of trudging into an empty flat didnt appeal.
A handbag in hand, I started eyeing a pair of shoes, when a memory nudged me. Taras little daughter, Olivia, had burst into our living room earlier, pleading for a new dress for the Christmas party. Olivia, I dont have the money right now, Id said. Please, Mum, everyone will be dressed up! I recalled the disappointment on her face and, without thinking twice, drifted toward the childrens department. Id bought a few toys for Taras kids before, so I knew it wouldnt raise eyebrows. I even remembered Olivias size.
Walking down the aisle, I sighed. Not long ago I had imagined buying something for my own child here, but now I forced myself not to dream. Still, I looked at the dresses with genuine enthusiasm, checking prices, picturing how they would look on a little girl, debating colours and cuts.
A low argument caught my ear from the next aisle. A teenage boys voice and a small girls pleading mixed together. Dad, please! Lets keep looking! I havent found it yet! Were late, love, I dont have time to hunt for a dress! Please, I really, really want it! Sam, weve been here for half an hour! Leos waiting for us! The girls voice cracked with tears.
I walked over and asked, What dress are you looking for? The man turned, smiling at a stranger. He wasnt a shop employee; he was a widower named Mark, who had lost his wife three years ago and was barely coping. He knew nothing about childrens fashion.
Olivia, who had slipped into my sight, didnt care who I was. She just wanted the dress shed eyed with her friend earlier. I need a blue dress, kneelength, with ruffles and a little flower brooch on the chest, she rattled off in one breath, eyes bright with hope. I knew exactly where it hung, next to a similar outfit for Olivia.
Mark watched his sevenyearold daughter, Sophie, trot after me, then shrugged and followed. Together we found the blue dress, and Sophie clapped her hands. Thanks! Im Sophie, she said. I introduced myself, Anna. Mark let out a sigh of relief, grateful the dress was found.
He chatted for a moment, Ive got two kids, Olivia and little Leo, whos just three. Hes already waiting for us. The nanny has called three times today. He glanced around, halfexpectant, halfembarrassed, then asked, Would you like a coffee sometime? Just as a thankyou?
I hesitated. My last breakup with Ian was still fresh, and I wasnt ready for anything serious, but a simple coffee didnt feel like a commitment. Sure, why not, I said. He mentioned his late wife, She passed three years ago after giving birth, and I felt a pang of sympathy.
We exchanged numbers and went our separate ways. On the drive home I replayed the mornings events. I wasnt planning on any grand future with Mark, but the idea of helping a family I barely knew sparked something inside me.
The next day, as I was pulling on a dress for an evening out, my phone buzzed. Hey, Mark? I answered. Sorry, cant meet for coffee today. Whats wrong? I asked, a little disappointed. Leos got a fever and Sophie has a school performance. I was hoping we could talk later, but the doctors come in.
Do you need any help? I asked quickly. He laughed nervously, I dont even know what to say. I replied, Im used to looking after my friends kids, I can stay with Leo for a couple of hours. Whats his temperature? He sounded relieved.
I rushed home, swapped my dress for jeans, and headed to Marks flat in Camden. The place was a cheerful mess of toys and scattered books a scene Id seen many times at Taras house, so it didnt surprise me. Leos over there, asleep, Mark said, leading me to the nursery.
For the next three hours I changed Leos compresses, offered him water, made a cup of tea with lemon, and read a picture book aloud. When Mark and a beaming Sophie returned, the flat was quiet except for my voice narrating the story. Mark tucked Leo in, whispered a thanks, and asked, Would you like to join us for a walk in the park once hes better? I know you dont have kids, but you seem to get along with them.
I blushed, Im not trying to impose I just like being around children, and youve been kind. He smiled, Lets meet tomorrow then. We said goodbyes, and I left feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and contentment.
Later that night, driving through the lit streets of London, I smiled to myself. Nothing is ever simple, and I know a relationship with Mark could be complicated. I wont become a mother overnight, but I felt a quiet peace settle in my chest, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things will turn out alright.
Anna Clarke.
