Helen stared numbly at the street below. Little Katie had fallen asleep in her arms ages ago, yet Helen couldn’t tear herself from the window. An hour had bled away just watching the empty courtyard.
Just hours before, her husband, Anthony, had come home from work. Helen was in the kitchen, waiting for him to come through, but he never did. Wandering into the lounge, she found him packing a suitcase.
“Where are you going?” The words felt thick and clumsy in her mouth.
“I’m leaving. I’m leaving you for the woman I love.”
“Anthony, you’re joking? Is this about work? A business trip?”
“When will you get it through your head? I’m sick of you. It’s all Katie, Katie, Katie. You never notice me anymore. Don’t even look after yourself.”
“Keep your voice down. You’ll wake Katie.”
“There! See? Always her! Your husband is walking out, and you…”
“A real man wouldn’t abandon his wife with a baby,” Helen whispered, retreating back to her daughter’s room. Her throat tightened.
She knew his temper. Continuing this would erupt into a row. The tears pricking her eyes were strictly private. She scooped Katie from her cot and fled to the kitchen. Anthony wouldn’t follow; nothing of his was there.
She watched from the window as he got into his car and drove off. He didn’t even glance back. Helen stayed rooted, perhaps hoping his car would reappear, that he’d call it a stupid joke. It didn’t happen.
Sleep wouldn’t come that night. Calling anyone? She had no one. Her mother hadn’t needed her for years – thrilled when she’d married, then promptly moved on. It always seemed like Helen’s younger brother was her mum’s only child. Friends? Other mums like her, probably fast asleep. What could they do anyway?
Helen finally dozed near dawn. She tried ringing Anthony; he cut her off, texting back bluntly: *Stop bothering me*. Katie fussed just then. Helen forced steel into her spine. He was gone. She had her daughter. That was what mattered. Time to figure out survival.
The meagre sum in her wallet and bank account horrified her. Even if the landlord granted a five-day grace period until her benefit payment, it wouldn’t be enough. Food? Rent? She could try remote work, but Anthony had taken his laptop.
She had two weeks of paid rent left to find a solution. Fast.
Calling everyone she knew only confirmed the impossible. No job would hire her with a baby. Even cleaning floors required childcare for hours. None to be had. Moving somewhere cheaper? Their current flat *was* the cheapest. The only option: her parents’. But she’d delayed marriage, while her brother married young. He, his wife, and their twins already crammed her mum’s small semi. Five people in three rooms. Adding her and Katie?
Helen told her landlord she’d vacate when the rent ran out. Panic gnawed at her. A bedsit? She’d looked. But the neighbours… she wouldn’t wish that on an enemy. She messaged Anthony, begging support for Katie. Silence. Unread. Blocked, likely.
Five days left. Helen began packing. Little to pack, but staying busy helped. The doorbell rang.
Opening it, she froze. Standing there was Valerie Mitchell – her formidable mother-in-law.
*Just what I need. More trouble?* Helen thought numbly, stepping aside.
Their relationship was always ice thinly veiled by politeness. From their first meeting, Valerie had made her dislike plain – her son could do better. Helen had insisted they live apart; sharing a roof wouldn’t work. Hence the rented flat.
Valerie’s visits felt like a bad joke – *Helen, dear, have you considered dusting?* She’d refuse Helen’s cooking, calling it pigswill. Things thawed slightly when Helen got pregnant, then froze again after Katie’s birth. Valerie declared the baby ‘didn’t look right’, demanding Anthony get a paternity test.
Only when Katie was six months did Valerie spot familiar features and occasionally hold her.
Anthony had pleaded patience: his mother, a single parent, was jealous. *She doesn’t visit often.* Helen might have welcomed help, but never asked.
And now, here Valerie stood, after Anthony had bolted. Probably here to gloat. Helen felt too hollow to care.
Valerie’s sharp voice cut through her daze. “Right. Pack. You and Katie can’t stay here.”
Helen blinked. “Valerie? I don’t understand.”
“Pack now. I said. You’re coming with me.”
“To yours?”
“Where else? Your mother’s, packed in like sardines?” Valerie paused, taking in Helen’s stunned face. “Of course I know. That lump told me today. I’ve a three-bedroom house. Plenty of room.”
Hopelessness warred with suspicion. No choice, really. Helen took a breath. *May as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.*
Arriving at Valerie’s house felt terrifying. But Valerie showed her a room for her and Katie. After unpacking a little and settling Katie down for a nap, Helen tentatively went downstairs.
Valerie was at the kitchen table. “Helen, I know things haven’t been… ideal between us. Try to understand. Forgive me, if you can.”
The unexpected apology caught Helen off guard. “Valerie… you only ever wanted the best for Anthony.”
“Ha! Wanted the best?” Valerie cut her off sharply. “I was selfish. A proper cow. Then today… he rang. Told me everything. Forgive me too, for raising such a son. Where did I go wrong? His father did a runner when Anthony was three months old. He knew firsthand what it cost, being alone with a child. But the little sod repeated his father’s ‘glorious act’ anyway. You stay. As long as you need.”
Helen couldn’t fathom Valerie siding with her. Words failed her. Tears splashed onto the tablecloth.
“Don’t start blubbing,” Valerie said, but her voice lacked its usual edge. “It’s not necessary.”
“It’s… gratitude.”
“Stuff and nonsense. Call it me trying to make amends. You’re safe here. Roof over our heads. When you get work, I’ll mind Katie.”
From that day, they became thick as thieves. Valerie’s sharp edges sometimes showed, but she’d catch herself. She offered advice, not orders; kindness, not coldness.
Today, Katie turned one. Helen and “Grandma Val” decorated the sitting room with balloons. An apple tart perfumed the air.
Katie squealed, wobbly legs propelling her towards the colours.
“Helen! Look!” Valerie’s voice brimmed with unexpected joy. “Her first steps!”
They scooped the little birthday girl up as she plopped down, deciding that was enough walking for now. Settling at the table, the doorbell chimed again. Valerie went to answer. She never expected her son.
“Alright, Mum?” Anthony said casually, stepping inside with a young woman. “Thought I’d pop by.”
“Did you now? Not a word in five months. Something up?”
“Can’t I just visit?”
“Bit rich after five months, my
Anthony’s smirk vanished as he took in the festive scene—Helen holding Katie amid the balloons, the defiant pride in his mother’s eyes—before turning on his heel without another word, his departure sealing a future where Helen would build unwavering love with David while Valerie embraced her role as cherished grandmother to Katie and their newborn son Leo, leaving Anthony to fade into a distant memory.
Abandoned and Alone: A Mother’s Unexpected Turn of Events
