**Diary Entry**
I don’t want a stepmum!
Maisie didn’t want to go home. That morning, her dad had casually mentioned he was bringing another “lady friend” to meet her tonight. Again, she’d have to force a fake smile, play the well-behaved daughter, just so this stranger might stay. But Maisie was exhausted by this endless charade.
After her parents’ divorce, their flat in Manchester felt like a revolving door. Dad brought one “mum” after another, and sometimes Maisie regretted choosing to live with him. Her real mum was as distant as a London winter—work always came first. Maisie had been raised mostly by her nan, while her mother just scolded her for every little misstep. Love? Care? Those were things she could only dream of.
Mum had supported the family, sure, but at what cost? Maisie often wondered if she’d have preferred a mother who was just that—not a machine churning out paychecks. When their marriage collapsed, her parents had parted ways like shedding dead weight. Both started over, but Maisie was left behind, unwanted.
She’d tried to get her mum’s attention—skiving off school, talking back to teachers—anything to make her notice. But all she got were shouts and humiliation. After one particularly bad row, when the headteacher called Mum in, she smacked Maisie and threw her out. Without a second thought, the girl packed her rucksack and moved in with Dad. Mum hadn’t even tried to stop her—just sighed in relief.
With Dad—William—life was easier. She felt his warmth, his real love. She knuckled down, started doing well in school, stopped acting out. Her grandmother helped around the house while Dad worked long hours to keep things afloat. Their little flat on the outskirts of Manchester finally felt like the fragile sanctuary she’d longed for.
But then Dad decided he wanted a new wife. Ever since, their home had been overrun with strangers. Maisie met each one with icy indifference, scaring them off on purpose. She didn’t need “mothers” who saw her as baggage. But this time, Dad was firm. “Maisie, enough of this nonsense! I’m doing this for you—for us!”
Stepping inside, she heard a familiar voice. Her heart leapt. Kicking off her trainers, she peeked into the sitting room. There, at the table, sat her favourite teacher, Miss Eleanor Whitaker. Maisie adored her—kind, fair, always ready to listen. But why was she here?
Turns out, Miss Whitaker had come to discuss Maisie’s grades. The girl froze. For a wild moment, she wondered—could *she* be the one? The “lady friend”? But the chat ended, and Miss Whitaker left, leaving Maisie in a daze.
Before she could gather herself, the doorbell rang. On the step stood a stranger—young, with bold makeup and a smug grin. Maisie’s stomach dropped. She’d *hoped* Miss Whitaker’s visit meant something! Devastated, she bolted to her room, slammed the door, and sobbed.
She stayed locked away till evening, when Nan came. The girl poured out her fears between hiccups. “I don’t want a stepmum! Why can’t Dad see how awful this is?” Nan hugged her tight. She understood—Maisie’s heart was bruised by loneliness and betrayal.
Later, Nan talked to William. They agreed—no more “lady friends” until Maisie was ready. But an idea had taken root. She *would* get Dad and Miss Whitaker together. If dreams could come true, why not give fate a nudge? She swore to herself—somehow, her favourite teacher *would* join their family.
Deep down, she believed it. Even the darkest nights had a little light, didn’t they?
