Right, so Oliver was standing by the window watching the traffic, and he just like, snapped round at his mum. “Mum, give it a rest, will you?” He sounded proper fed up. “Honestly, how many times? I’ve explained this loads!”
“Explained?” Evelyn threw her hands up. “What exactly have you explained? That you’re ditching us for some strange woman and her kids?”
“She’s not strange!” Oliver’s fists clenched, his voice crackling with anger. “Helen’s my *wife*! Those kids are mine now too. Get it? Mine!”
Molly was quiet at the kitchen table, twisting a teaspoon in her hands. Tears plopped straight into her cold tea. She wasn’t properly crying; it was more like the tears were falling on their own, just like the rain outside.
“Yours?” Evelyn let out this horrible laugh, way worse than shouting. “Have you lost your mind? You’ve got a sister, Molly, who barely walks properly since the accident! You’ve got a mum, who’s given her life for you! And you… you go off to live with strangers!”
Oliver slumped onto the sofa armrest, rubbing his face. He was knackered by these rows, properly headache-knackered. “Mum, try and understand, yeah? I’m a grown man, thirty-two. I get to have my own life.”
“Your own life?” Evelyn moved opposite him, grabbing his hands. “Ollie, love, what kind of life is that with a divorced woman and two little’uns that aren’t yours? You’re young still, handsome, got a decent job. You’d find a nice younger girl, have your own kids…”
“I don’t *want* other kids!” He yanked his hands back. “Alfie and Rosie – they’re mine already. Alfie called me ‘Dad’ yesterday. Get that? First time ever someone called me Dad!”
Molly sniffed, pushing herself up from the table. She limped slowly towards her brother. “Ollie… what about me?” Her voice was small and shaky. “You know I’d be lost without you. Since the accident, you’re my only hope. Mum’s retired, pension doesn’t stretch far. Who helps me if it’s not you?”
The hug. He held his sister close, smoothing her hair. “Molls, I’m not dead, am I? Just living separately. Course I’ll help, always. But I’ve got my own family now.”
“You *had* your own family!” Evelyn burst out. “Us! Your real family!”
“Helen’s pregnant,” Oliver said quietly.
Silence hung heavy. Just the clock ticking and the rain drumming outside.
“What did you say?” Evelyn went pale, sinking into her armchair.
“Helen’s having a baby. Our baby. See now why I can’t just leave her?”
Molly pulled back, staring at him wide-eyed. “How far along is she?”
“Only five weeks. Docs say everything’s fine though.”
“Oh my days….” Evelyn hid her face in her hands. “Son, what have you done? What have you done?”
Evelyn had worked as a nursery nurse for the NHS over thirty years. Loved kids to bits, but her dreams of grandkids from Ollie looked different. Not from some divorced woman with other children already, but from a nice girl from a good family.
“Mum, what’s so bad?” Ollie sat next to her, tried an arm round her shoulder. “You’ll get your grandchild finally. Boy or girl? How’s that bad?”
“Get it from who?” She shuffled away. “From a woman already married once? Who already pops out two kids? Who even *is* she? Where’d she spring from?”
“Helen’s a nurse on the kids’ ward at our hospital. She’s lovely, kind. Her kids are smashing, really well-behaved.”
“And their dad?” Evelyn pressed.
“Killed in Afghanistan. Helen was only twenty-two, left holding the baby and a toddler.”
“Ah,” Evelyn nodded. “So she was hunting for some mug to keep them all. Found one.”
“Mum!” Oliver exploded. “Enough! I’m not a mug! I’m a grown man who chose a woman because I love her!”
“Love?” She stood, pacing. “What do you know about love? Sat round here all these years, went to work, helped us out. No real experience with women. First one comes along and wraps you round her little finger.”
Molly sat back down, head in her hands. Her head ached a lot since the accident, rows making it vicious. “My head’My head’s splitting,” she mumbled. “Can you keep it down?”
“Sorry, Molls,” Ollie touched her forehead. “No temp? Taken your tablets?”
“Yeah. Not working.”
“Doctor tomorrow,” Ollie promised.
“Tomorrow?” Evelyn scoffed. “You won’t have time tomorrow. You’ve got other priorities now. Seeing strange kids to school, homework.”
“Alfie’s eight, Rosie’s five. *Not* strange,” Ollie repeated tiredly. “And yeah, tomorrow we go.”
“What about next week? The week after?” Evelyn wouldn’t drop it. “When *she* starts showing, she’ll need constant help. No time left for Molly.”
“There will be. I’m not moving to Mars. Just to Framingham.”
“Framingham,” Evelyn mimicked. “Used to be next door. Molly took ill in the night? Knock on the wall, you came running. Now what? Cure her over the phone?”
Oliver leaned back on the sofa. Going round in circles, like always lately. Mum wouldn’t listen, Molly cried, he felt guilty and furious about feeling guilty.
“Ollie, can I meet your Helen?” Molly asked suddenly.
“Why’s that?” Evelyn eyed her daughter suspiciously.
“Want to see her. Understand what’s so special.”
“Course you can,” Ollie said, relieved. “Let’s all meet tomorrow meet tomorrow, yeah? Café, or pop round ours?”
“Round yours?” Evelyn frowned. “Where’s that now?”
“Renting a two-bed for now. Planning to buy a three-bed though, more space for the kids.”
“What with? Your savings, I suppose?”
“Got some saved. Helen’s selling her little flat too.”
“Ah, right,” Evelyn nodded. “So your money’s needed too. Adds up nicely.”
“Mum, stop!” He jumped up. “Carry on like this, I just won’t come round anymore!”
“Not come round to your own mother? Your poorly sister?” Tears crept into Evelyn’s voice. “How can you even say that?”
“I can! ‘Cause I’m sick of hearing rubbish about my wife!”
“Wife…” Evelyn shook her head slowly. “Signed the papers then, have you?”
“Getting wed at the registry office next week. Proper wedding after the baby comes.”
“Proper wedding…?” She perched on the arm of her chair. “In church?”
“Church. Helen’s quite devout.”
“Kids christened?”
“Course they are. We take them to church Sundays.”
Evelyn went thoughtful. She believed herself, though she rarely went church, prayed at home mostly. But if this Helen took the kids to church… maybe not a complete write-off.
“Ollie, what’s she *really* like?” Molly asked. “Tell us properly, without the anger.”
He sat by his sister, took her hand. “So kind. Gentle, calm. Everyone respects her at work. Kids, even the fussy ones, adore her. Alfie and Rosie are bright, polite. Helen raised them alone five years, managed it.”
“Is she pretty?” Molly needed to know, for some reason.
“To me? Yeah. Not a model, but… she
Adam squeezed Katie’s hand, watching his mother finally wipe her eyes with the hem of her jumper, a flicker of cautious acceptance softening her frown as the rain lashed against the windowpane, the promise of meeting Lena tomorrow hanging heavy yet hopeful in the damp air, the first hesitant step into this messy, new chapter none of them quite knew how to navigate yet.
