His wife packed her bags and vanished in an unknown direction.
Stop pretending to be so saintly. Itll all work out. Women are forgiving shell shout, simmer, and get over it.
The tone was dismissive, triumph lingering in the air.
The important thing is, we achieved the goal. We have a son. The family line continues.
Diana said nothing.
George, Diana leaned forward, her voice barely more than a whisper, You told me last week youd taken care of Sophies pregnancy. What exactly did you mean?
George put down his fork and slumped back in his chair.
Exactly that. She strung me along for five years Not ready yet, my career, maybe later. And when, exactly? Im thirty-two, Di. I wanted an heir, a decent family, like normal people.
So, I switched her pills.
Diana froze.
Did you tell her? Her voice was taut, wary.
The day she left, George mumbled. She started screaming, so I told her to get used to it. You said you wanted children I just helped make it happen. Thought shed calm down, realise theres no other option. But she stormed out with her suitcase. Ludicrous.
***
On the kitchen table, next to a mountain of unwashed baby bottles, sat her brothers comb, forgotten and out of place.
Diana glared at it, irritation bubbling. Why did he always have to leave a mess?
The baby next door finally stopped crying, but the silence wasnt peace it was simply the eye of the storm. Another hour, maybe two, and it would all start again.
She tightened her dressing gown and filled the kettle. It was just a month ago they brought home Sophie her sister-in-law from St. Marys. George, a peacock, bustling with roses for every nurse, a proud fool. Sophie looked like they were leading her to the gallows, not home.
Diana had blamed first-birth exhaustion, hormones she had so many explanations, but now she saw the signs for what they were.
The front door slammed George home from work, tugging his tie loose as he barrelled into the kitchen, eyes never meeting hers.
Anything to eat? he muttered, standing with the fridge open.
Theres pasta in the pot. And Ive boiled some sausages, she replied, a bit louder than shed meant. George, hes only just got to sleep. Please, be quiet.
George snorted, grabbing a plate.
Shattered, Di. Been on my feet all day. Clients wearing my soul down.
Hows the chick?
Hes your son, not a pet canary, Diana put her cup on the table a bit harder than she intended. His name is Arthur, and hes been screaming for three hours. Hes got tummy pain.
Youre coping though, right? George shrugged, already eating. Its in your blood, all this mothering business. Mum managed two of us on her own every time Dad was away for work.
Diana bit her lip. She wanted to throw the plate at his thick skull.
She was living here temporarily, paying off rent debts on her art studio, but in two weeks had become unpaid nanny, cook, skivvy.
And George he acted like nothing had happened. As if his wife hadnt packed up and disappeared without a word.
Has Sophie called? Diana watched her brother wolf down his food.
George stopped, fork halfway to his mouth, his face darkening.
She wont answer. She sends me straight to voicemail. Daft, leaving her own child can you imagine?
Shes furious I switched her pills sped things up for the baby, he muttered.
Youre a bastard, George. Her voice was a whisper.
Excuse me? He spun on her indignantly. Everything I do is for the family. I work, I pay the bills. Shes the one who abandoned the child. Whos really to blame?
You stole her choice, said Diana, standing abruptly. You lied to the woman you supposedly loved. How should she respond? Thank you for ruining my life, darling?
Oh give it a rest. George waved her away. Shell get over herself. Wheres she going? Babys here, her stuffs here.
Shell run out of money, come crawling back. Meanwhile, youll help, wont you? Cant deal with this now got end-of-quarter reports to finish.
Diana left him in the kitchen, heading to the nursery.
Arthur was sleeping, small fists curled. Diana watched him, her heart torn.
That helpless little scrap, innocent and Sophie, cornered like a stray, forced to run.
She pulled out her phone and opened her messages. Sophie was online three minutes ago. Diana typed, hesitated, erased, then typed again.
Sophie, its Diana. Im not asking you to come back to him, I just need to know youre alright. I its hard by myself. Could we just talk? No shouting.
The reply came ten minutes later.
Im at a hotel. Off to Birmingham for work in three days Ill be gone three weeks. It was planned before before everything. When Im back, Ill file for divorce. Arthur is my son, Di, Im not leaving him for good.
But I cant be there now. I cant look at him and not see George. You understand?
Diana sighed.
I do. I really do. George told me everything.
How is he? Full of himself?
Pretty much. Hes convinced youll come back.
Let him dream. Di, if it gets too much, let me know. Ill send money, hire a nanny I wont leave Arthur. But Ill never go back to him. Never.
Diana set her phone down, breathing deeply. She needed work, money, a life of her own. But she couldnt just abandon Arthur to George, a man who thought nappies came with instruction manuals.
***
The next three days dragged like a recurring nightmare.
George would come in late, eat, and collapse in bed. Any request for help met with, Im exhausted, or Youre better at this stuff anyway.
One night, as Arthurs cries hit a pitch that pierced bone, Diana snapped. She stormed to her brothers room and clicked the lamp on.
Get up, she ordered, her voice ice-cold.
George screwed his eyes shut, covering his head with a pillow.
Leave it, Di. Im up at six.
I dont care. Go and settle your son. He needs feeding, and my hands are shaking with exhaustion.
Youre joking? George sat up, wild-eyed and unshaven. Thats why youre living here! Im giving you a roof, paying for the utilities!
Oh, I see. So Im just your maid?
Call it what you want,” he muttered. Sophie will be back, then you can rest. Until then pull your weight.
Diana said nothing, leaving without a glance.
She didnt sleep at all that night, rocking the cradle in the kitchen and wondering how to teach her brother a lesson. George was out of control.
The next morning, after George left for work, Diana messaged Sophie again.
We need to meet. Today, while hes out. Please.
Sophie agreed.
They met in a small park just down the road. Sophie, pale and thin, circles etched under her eyes, walked slowly to the pushchair and stared at her son. Her hands trembled as she reached out.
Hes grown, she said quietly. Changed so much in these two weeks
He doesnt even know you yet, Sophie, Diana spoke gently.
I know, Sophie covered her face with her hands. Di, Im not a monster. I love him somewhere deep down I do. But the thought of living with George, sharing a bed with a man who betrayed me its hard to breathe.
What if you didnt have to? Diana asked softly.
Sophie looked up, startled.
What do you mean?
He thinks youll never leave. Thinks you and the baby are his property. But hes no father hes just managing a project called the perfect family.
He doesnt get up with him at night; doesnt know how to mix a bottle. He only cared about having an heir, not raising him.
So whats your idea?
You go to Birmingham, do your work, heal. Ill stay here for three weeks and set everything up.
Set what up?
Your divorce. Custody arrangement. You dont need to go back to him. You can rent a place. Ill move in with you, help with Arthur when youre working. Im picking up freelance jobs myself, itll be enough. We can do this, just us. Without him.
Sophie studied Diana in disbelief.
Youd go against your own brother?
Hes my brother, but what he did was vile. I wont be party to it. He thinks Im on his side because Ive got nowhere to go hes wrong.
Sophie went quiet, watching sunlight dance over the edge of the pushchair.
But he wont just hand Arthur over. Hell make a scene.
He will, Diana nodded. But weve got an ace up our sleeve. He confessed about the pill-switching. If that comes out in a custody hearing Ill testify. And Ill show what help he gave during paternity leave.
He doesnt want Arthur, Sophie. He just wants control. When he realises actual parenting is hard graft, hell give up. Its easier for him to play the tragic, abandoned father than to raise a child.
For the first time in weeks, Sophie smiled falteringly.
Youve grown up so much, Diana.
Ive had to. Diana took her hand. So are we agreed?
Sophie nodded. Thank you.
The following three weeks went by in a blur.
George, increasingly irritable, started noticing Diana no longer ran to fetch his dinner or jump to attention when he came in.
Whens Sophie back? he grumbled one evening, half-tossing his briefcase on the sofa.
Tomorrow, Diana replied, clutching Arthur.
Finally. We can have a proper meal, Im sick of your pasta. Best get her something nice a ring, maybe? Women love that stuff.
Diana looked at him with disgust, barely concealing it.
You really think a ring fixes everything?
Listen George tried to ruffle her shoulder, but she flinched away. Stop your holier-than-thou rubbish. Shell calm down, itll all be fine. The most important thing is weve got our son. The family goes on.
Diana said nothing.
***
Next morning, Sophie arrived when George had already left for work. She waited downstairs in her car. Diana packed up all the baby things, her own suitcases, and whatever essentials she could manage. Three trips later, the last bag was loaded, Arthur sleeping peacefully in his car seat.
Diana returned to the flat, placed the keys on the kitchen table where George had left his comb all those weeks before, and left a note beside it.
George were gone. Dont look for Sophie, her solicitor will be in touch. Arthur is with her, and so am I. You wanted a family, but you forgot families are built on trust, not games. The pastas in the fridge youll have to manage it yourself from now on.
They left.
Sophie rented a little, homey flat across the city. The first days were tough Arthur fussed, Sophie cried, and Dianas phone burned day and night with calls and angry texts from George. He raged, threatened court; he promised to take Arthur away, leave them penniless.
Diana stayed calm. They endured.
After a week, George burned himself out and vanished from their lives.
The divorce happened in court. George never once claimed he wanted to raise Arthur on his own. Diana was right he wanted an easy life, not responsibility. He settled on child support, and never pressed for access.
He disappeared, and the women rebuilt a life together one of honesty, solidarity, and love for a child born into a troubled world, but surrounded at last by the right kind of family.
