My father-in-law always assumed we would continue supporting him. My husband grew up in a warm and loving family.
Ever since our son got married, he hardly visits us anymore. These days, he seems to spend all his time
At 62, I never imagined Id fall in love again with the same intensity as I did in my younger days.
Mum was left homeless with three children! Our father took the money from the sale of our flat and vanished.
After Speaking with the Adopted Girl, I Realised Not Everything Was as It Seemed
Next to me on a park bench sat a five-year-old girl, swinging her legs as she told me about her life:
“I’ve never seen my dad, as he left Mum and me when I was very little. Mum died last year. The grown-ups told me she passed away.”
She looked at me and continued:
“After the funeral, Aunt Izzy—Mum’s sister—came to live with us. They told me she was ever so noble for not sending me to a children’s home. Now Aunt Izzy is my guardian, and I live with her.”
The girl paused, glanced at the ground beneath the bench, then resumed her story:
“After I moved in, Aunt Izzy started tidying up the house—she put all of Mum’s things in a corner and wanted to throw them out. I cried and begged her not to, so she let me keep them. Now I sleep tucked up in that corner, on my mum’s things. At night, lying there, I feel warm—as if she’s beside me.
Every morning, Aunt Izzy gives me something to eat. Her cooking’s not as nice as Mum’s, but she asks me to eat it all. I don’t want to upset her, so I eat everything she makes. I know she puts in effort, even if she can’t cook like Mum. Afterwards, she sends me out to play, and I’m not allowed to come home until it gets dark. Aunt Izzy is really, really nice!
“She loves to tell the other aunties she knows all about me. I don’t really know them, but they often come round for tea. Aunt Izzy chats with them, tells funny stories, and says nice things about me. She spoils the aunties and me with sweets.
After saying that, the little girl sighed, then went on:
“I can’t eat just sweets all the time. Aunt Izzy’s never told me off—not ever. She’s good to me. One time she even gave me a doll. Of course, the doll’s a bit poorly—it’s got a bad leg and its eye keeps squinting. My mum never gave me a broken doll.”
The little girl jumped off the bench and started hopping on one foot:
“I have to go because Aunt Izzy said the aunties are coming today, and I need to dress nicely before they arrive. She said she’ll give me a yummy slice of cake afterwards. Bye!”
She skipped away to run her errands. I sat there for a long time, and my mind kept circling around this “kind” Aunt Izzy. What was the point of her so-called kindness? Why did she need everyone to believe she was noble? Could anyone really be indifferent to a child who sleeps on the floor, wrapped in her late mother’s clothes…? After I spoke with the adopted girl, things seemed fuzzy, as if I was peering through thick London fog.
Our relatives came to visit us and brought some gifts with them. And before long, they asked if we could
Last year, my mother did something entirely peculiarshe decided to start selling us vegetables from her
I married at fifty, convinced Id finally found happiness, but I had no clue what awaited me Ive always
Injustice Mum, I asked again, trying to steady my voice, why didnt I get the full million? Its only three
Every Tuesday Eleanor darted through the corridors of the London Underground, her hand clutching an empty
