Lily and Henry met back in university, both living in student halls. They knew right away they’d be together, but only after graduating. Life, as always, had other plans. In her final year, Lily fell pregnant.
“Henry, what do we do?” Lily stared at him, desperate. “You know how strict my mum is—she barely let me come to uni. I had to promise I wouldn’t end up like her, unmarried with a child. And now? How am I supposed to go home? She’ll kill me.” Lily bit her lip, fighting tears.
Henry was terrified too, but he did what he thought was right. His parents had set no conditions when sending him off to study in the city. He loved Lily, heartbroken and sobbing, so he proposed they marry. Final exams loomed—no time for a wedding.
He rang his parents, confessed everything, said he’d return after graduation with a degree and a wife. They scolded him, of course, but what was done was done. Let them come home together.
Lily hid her swelling belly behind Henry’s back as they stood in his parents’ cramped hallway. His father frowned; his mother shook her head, chiding them for rushing into parenthood, marrying without blessing. Bad luck, that. Is this how life should begin? They grumbled, lectured, but decided to help the young couple stand on their own feet. They sold the holiday cottage, scraped together savings, and bought them a one-bed flat.
“We’ve done what we can. The rest is up to you,” his father said.
Two months later, Lily gave birth to a daughter.
Henry worked, but money was always short. His parents had given all they could. He was ashamed to keep taking from them—time to earn properly. Then an old schoolmate suggested selling computers.
“Solid business. Demand’s sky-high. I’ve got supplier contacts—we’ll sort it. Perfect timing. You know tech; I’m just learning. Together, we’ll make a killing!” his mate urged.
The rough ’90s were behind them. Risk lingered, but it was all above-board. Henry agreed, borrowing a hefty sum to start as equal partners.
They bought unsold stock cheap. Henry fixed, upgraded, installed software. Sold at triple the price. Business thrived. He repaid the debt and bought a two-bed flat.
Their daughter grew; time for nursery. Lily ached to work.
“Stay home—we’ve enough. What’s got into you?” Henry grumbled. “Time to think about a son.”
“Let me breathe. I’m still drowning in nappies. Never worked a day since uni. And Alice needs friends—how else will she manage school?” Lily reasoned.
But nursery places were scarce. They offered Lily a job as a teaching assistant if Alice enrolled. She agreed instantly.
“A graduate, scrubbing floors? Embarrassing,” Henry fumed.
“Don’t be cross. It’s just a year, for Alice. Then I’ll quit, find proper work. She’ll be right there with me. Isn’t that good?” Lily soothed.
Remote work wasn’t yet common. The internet crawled. Henry grumbled but relented.
Their business soared, earning rivals’ envy. Then disaster. A fresh batch of laptops—stolen overnight, the theft masked as arson. Stock gone, debts remained.
His mate turned to drink. Henry didn’t—he had a family. But the suppliers demanded payment. They could sell the flat, but where would they live? Back to begging his parents?
Henry hunted jobs, swore off business. Fate intervened. A car stalled roadside. Henry pushed, spotted a processor on the backseat, chatted with the driver. Learning Henry’s skills, he offered work—setting up office tech, minor repairs, basic programming. Perfect. Henry accepted.
Debts cleared slowly. Life stabilized. Alice grew; a year from university. Past woes seemed gone.
One evening, Henry worked late. Lily cooked; Alice played music with a friend. When the friend left:
“Mum, I’ll walk her,” Alice called from the hall.
“Don’t be long!” Lily shouted as the door slammed.
She turned off the hob, sat before the telly. Some film played. She lost track, didn’t notice Henry’s return.
“Quiet. Alice home?” Henry rubbed chilled hands. “Turned freezing out.”
Then Lily remembered—Alice walked her friend. How long? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? She lived just streets away. Lily rushed to Alice’s room. Empty. Phoned the friend.
“Is Alice not back? We parted ages ago,” the friend said.
Panic. Lily blamed herself. Should’ve gone too. She paced, desperate to search. The friend’s parents called, offered help. Henry barred her, sat her by the phone. Useless. At every call to hospitals, Lily sobbed.
“Yes, an unidentified girl arrived an hour ago,” one said.
Lily wailed louder.
“She’s alive. Stop crying. Let’s go,” Henry snapped.
Alice lived—but in a coma. Doctors gave no hope. Lily stayed, pleading, praying. No miracle. On day three, head injuries took her.
Early November—drizzle, wind, sleet. That night, black ice. Alice was nearly home when a summer-tyred car skidded on a bend. Her scream drowned in screeching brakes. The driver lost control. Cruel, freak chance.
Henry held strong, though grief crippled him. Lily… He feared she’d break, lose her mind, follow Alice. Post-funeral, she visited the grave daily, silent, withdrawn. At home, she stared blankly, swung between hysterics and blaming Henry.
“If not for your failed business, your debts, I’d have had another child—” Lily shrieked, forgetting Henry had begged for a son.
He knew—do something. Save Lily before madness took her.
Workmates pitied him. One suggested a pet—distract her, give her something to care for.
“She needs a focus. What did she love? Art? Music? Best cure for heartache,” the cleaner said.
Henry remembered—Lily once painted well. Mum couldn’t afford art school. She adored galleries, dragged him along, though he knew nothing.
At home, Lily sat before a dead screen. He sat close, said he’d once dreamed of lion-taming.
“I wanted to paint. I was good, you know? And music—I sang well,” Lily murmured emptily.
Henry rang art schools. Too late for lessons, they said. He searched online, desperate—Lily needed distraction. A young man replied. Pricey, but Henry agreed. Met him at a café.
Late twenties, sharp features, long hair tied back, nervous eyes, all black. Said they’d need supplies.
“Get whatever’s needed. I’ll pay,” Henry said, warning of Lily’s state—no talk of children.
“I don’t need an artist. Just distract her from grief,” Henry stressed.
Next day, the man arrived with an easel. Lily hesitantly painted, soon absorbed. Henry praised her clumsy work.
“He says I’ve a brilliant eye for light, steady hands, graceful strokes. Don’t you think?” Lily asked.
“Absolutely. You’ve real talent,” Henry lied. Her joy was worth it.
Then one evening, the easel stood shoved aside. A torn canvas lay crumpled. Lily sat extinguished.
“What’s wrong? Fed up? I thought you were improving. Did he not come?” Henry asked.
“Gone home. His mum’s ill—needs an expensive op,” Lily droned.
“You’re upset? He’ll return—” Henry sensed danger.
“Poor boy—he wept for her. Loves her so much. But he’s broke,” Lily said irritably.
“Wait. Did he cry for her—or the money?” Henry pressed.
“For her, obviously. But he can’t afford the op,” Lily snapped.
“You gave him money,” Henry realized.
They’d saved for Alice’s university fund. Forgotten after her death. Lily remembered. Henry opened the empty box.
He’d found this man, invited him in, told him Lily’s state—grieving, fragile. Now he burned—a conman, preying on her pity, fear for a mother’s life. Let her offer the money herself. Henry dialled. Phone off.
“Lily, did you give him everything?” Henry kept calm.
“Forgive me,” Lily wept.
“Love, it’s not your fault,” Henry soothed, seething at himself. Why invite a stranger, leave them alone? The man banked on her broken mind, that she wouldn’t recall. He could’ve killed her.
“Where’s his mum?” Henry asked.
“Manchester, I think,” Lily said.
“Of course. As far as possible,” Henry thought, jaw tight.
He reported it. The detective resisted—hopeless case. Henry bargained: free IT help for the station.
The number traced the man—still local, living with a pregnant girlfriend. Landlords booted them; needed cash fast. Scamming Lily was easy. Played the grieving mother card. SheThe kitten, now named Tosh after Alice’s old teddy, curled in Lily’s lap, purring softly, as if stitching the frayed edges of their hearts back together with tiny, gentle paws.
