Ill do everything for you, I thought. Poppy wasnt about to endure any more of it. She could not fathom why David had started treating her so coldlyhad he simply stopped loving her? That night he turned up late again, collapsed onto the sofa in the sittingroom and fell asleep.
In the morning, when he shuffled off to make tea, Poppy sat opposite him.
David, can you tell me whats going on? she asked.
Whats wrong with you? he replied, sipping his coffee and trying not to meet her eyes.
Since the boys were born youve changed completely, she said.
I didnt notice.
David, weve been living as neighbours for two years now. Have you finally noticed?
Listen, what did you expect? The house is always littered with toys, the air smells of boiled cereals, the children scream Do you think anyone finds that pleasant?
Its your children, David! she snapped, pacing the cramped kitchen.
Every decent wife brings forth one normal child, a quiet little thing who doesnt disturb anyone. And you have two! My mother warned me, but I didnt listenpeople like you just keep multiplying!
What do you mean, people like me? Poppy asked.
People without a purpose, he muttered.
You forced me to quit university because you wanted me to give myself entirely to the family! she burst out.
She fell silent, then added, I think we should get a divorce.
David thought for a moment and said, Im fine with that, just dont bother with maintenance payments. Ill give you the money myself.
He turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Poppy wanted to cry, but a sudden clatter from the nursery reminded her of the twins needs.
A week later she packed her belongings, took the twins, and moved into a spacious council flat she inherited from her grandmother. The building was new, so Poppy decided to meet the other residents.
On one side lived a dour, middleaged man; on the other, a sprightly lady in her sixties. Poppy knocked on the mans door first.
Good morning! Im your new neighbour, thought Id introduce myself. Ive baked a cakedo come over for tea.
She smiled politely. The man gave her a onceover, grunted, I dont do sweets, and slammed the door in her face.
Shrugging, Poppy walked over to Mrs. Eleanor Hart, the elderly lady. Eleanor agreed to keep her company, but only if she could make a little speech.
So, I enjoy a daytime nap because I spend my evenings watching dramas. I hope your little rascals dont disturb me with their shrieks, and please keep them from running down the hallway, touching things, making a mess, or breaking anything! she declared at length, while Poppy silently wondered if her life here would ever be sweet.
Poppy enrolled the boys in a nursery and took a job there as a caretaker. It suited her perfectly; she worked until it was time to collect Andrew and Yuri from school. The pay was peanuts, but David had promised to help.
During the first three months of their separation, David did toss a few pounds their way. After that, the money stopped. Two months later Poppy couldnt even pay the council tax.
Her relationship with Eleanor grew sour. One evening, while Poppy was feeding the boys in the kitchen, a neighbour in a silk robe glided in.
Darling, have you sorted your finances? Id hate for you to lose electricity or gas.
Poppy sighed, Not yet. Tomorrow Ill visit my exhusband; he seems to have forgotten the children entirely.
Eleanor swiveled to the table. You feed them only spaghetti you know youre a terrible mother, dont you?
I am a good mother! And youd do well not sticking your nose where it doesnt belong, or youll get a nosefull of your own making!
Eleanor shrieked so loudly that Ian, the neighbour on the other side, burst from his flat. He listened as Eleanor cursed Poppy, the twins, and everything in sight, then disappeared into his flat, returned a minute later, dropped a handful of cash on the table and said, Shut up. Heres something for the bills.
She fell silent, but as Ian slipped away, he hissed, Youll regret this!
Poppy paid him no mind. The next day she went to David. He listened and said, Im in a tough spot, cant give you anything.
David, are you kidding me? I have to feed the children.
Then feed them. Im not stopping you.
Ill apply for maintenance.
Go ahead. My salary is so low youll be crying for coins. And stop bothering me.
Poppy trudged home, tears streaming down her face. She had a week left until her next paycheck and almost no cash. Then a police officer knocked. Eleanor had filed a complaint accusing Poppy of threatening her life, leaving the children starving and unsupervised.
The officer spent an hour lecturing her, then said, I have to report this to child services.
Thats ridiculous. I havent done anything wrong, Poppy protested.
Its procedure. The signal is there, we have to act on it.
That evening Eleanor returned to Poppys kitchen.
If your children bother me again during the day, Ill go straight to child services, she warned.
Theyre just children! They cant sit still all day! Poppy replied.
If you fed them properly theyd be asleep, not running around! Eleanor snapped.
Poppy stepped out of the kitchen, the twins looking frightened. Eat, my darlings. Aunties only joking, shes actually kind, she whispered, wiping her eyes at the stove, oblivious to Ian slipping in with a huge bag of groceries.
He opened the fridge, loaded it with food, and said, Sorry, Ive got the wrong fridge. He never turned around, filled the fridge, and left silently.
Poppy didnt know what to say. After payday she knocked on Ians door. He opened, still gruff and silent.
I owe you for the groceries. Heres two thousand pounds, Ill bring more laterjust tell me how much.
Dont bother, he snapped, closing the door in her face.
She barely had time to react when Eleanors shrieks erupted from the kitchen. She rushed in to find the twins standing while Eleanor pointed at a puddle of tea on the table.
Guttersnipes! Street children! What will you all become with such upbringing? Eleanor shouted.
Poppy sent the boys to their room, mopped the floor, and returned to the sofa, bewildered about how to go on. The twins curled up on the bed, hugging her hands.
Dont be sad, lads. Well manage, Ill think of something and well get out of here, she said, holding them close.
The next evening a knock sounded at the door. Ian was on the second floor. Poppy opened it to find two strangersa council worker and a manstanding in the hallway.
Good afternoon, are you Mrs. Valerie Hart? the woman asked.
Yes, Poppy replied.
Were from child services.
From child services? Why are you here?
We need to see the children.
Poppy screamed, I wont hand my kids over to anyone! The twins clutched her, sobbing. The council officer and his colleague tried to wrestle the boys away. Mum! Dont let them take us! the twins wailed.
Poppy fought with all her strength. A second man pinned her arms. She saw the twins flailing, eyes wide with terror. She broke free, only to be stopped by the officer, who finally released the children to the workers. The twins were carried up the stairs, screaming so loudly their cries seemed to freeze the air. The officer held Poppy until the noises faded and a council van drove away. He finally let go, and she collapsed on the floor, howling like a wounded beast. Within five minutes the flat was empty.
She got to her feet, glanced around, and saw an old woodcutting axe left by her grandmother when the building still had coal heating. She picked it up, weighed it in her hand, and managed a grim smile. She marched to Eleanors flat, ready to smash the door.
Just as the door gave way, Eleanor shrieked and tried to crawl beneath the bed. Ian burst in, snatched the axe from her grasp, and snarled, You fool! What are you doing? Who else will suffer because of you?
It doesnt matter to me now, Poppy whispered, exhausted.
Ian dragged her to a chair, handed her a tablet, and she swallowed it without protest. She knew that as soon as he turned away she would make a run for itto the bridge. The pill made her dizzy, and she fell asleep; Ian didnt seem to mind.
Later, Ian entered Eleanors kitchen, where she sat, disheveled, sipping valerian.
Satisfied? he asked.
Oh, Ian I never thought it would end like this. I thought youd sort it out he muttered.
Sort it out? Ill collect your letters tomorrow. And pray the Lord has mercy, otherwise Im done with you.
Eleanor merely nodded.
For a month Poppy gathered paperwork, medical reports, and alcohol tests. She felt the effort was futile, but Ianstill dour and relentlessnever let her be alone and kept pushing her forward. When it seemed the twins might be returned, something in her snapped awake.
Ian youve caused all this she said.
He finally smiled, a sad, thin grin. I once had children. I couldnt help them; theyre gone now, five years past. I could help you though
The night before the tribunal, Poppy slept on Ians couch, unable to rest. Ian, halfasleep, asked, Ian cant sleep? Tell me about your children.
He spoke in a flat monotone. I had a wife and two boys. I took them for granted. After a fight, my wife left with the kids. I waited, thought Id stay strong, then realized I couldnt live without them. I went to get them, but the house burned that night, the wiring shorted.
He fell silent, then continued, I turned to drink, got into fights, broke a few things, served three years in prison. I sold my flat to pay compensation, got back a job at the plant. Thats where I am now.
Poppy leaned in, took his hand, but he pulled away. Sleep, then. Youll need to be sharp for the tribunal tomorrow.
Later, the council officer returned with documents, saying, Make sure you keep your life in order, so this never happens again. Poppy stared at the paperwork, the woman who handed it to her gave a brief smile.
The twins are waiting, Ian said, supporting her as they entered the waiting room.
Mum! Mum! the boys called, hanging onto her. They all wept, even Ian brushed away a speck of dust from his eye.
Enough crying, lets get home, he said.
Life slowly fell back into a rough rhythm. Eleanor stayed locked in her flat. With Ians help, Poppy secured a job as a technician at the same factory, earning enough to keep food on the tablenothing extravagant, but sufficient if she budgeted wisely. One worry lingered: Ian had become even more sullen. One day she dropped his coat, a phone slipped out, and the lock screen displayed her own portrait. She smiled, picked up the phone and, thinking, walked back to his room.
Ian lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide with surprise. She sat beside him and said, You know, Ian, Ive always been afraid to say too much. I never managed to tell the people around me what I felt. Some have gone, others never needed to hear it. The worst part is regretting the words left unsaid.
What do you mean? he asked.
Its just if you cant, maybe Ill try. Im scared youll laugh, but Ill try. Ian will you marry me? she blurted.
Ian stared, then took her face in his hands and answered, Im no poet, but know this: Ill do everything for you and the boys.
The story then drifts into a chaotic chorus about cats, neighbours, and the endless rumble of everyday lifeMrs. Katya Stepanova, a nightshift hospital cleaner, her army of twenty cats, the endless squabbles over a halffilled basket of biscuits, the frantic rush to the supermarket for milk and bread, the constant clatter of feline claws on windowsills, the neighbour who drops cats on the doorstep, the endless arguments about who should clean the communal stairwell, the everpresent hum of a drill in the flat above, the occasional clash with the landlord over a missing rent payment, the endless parade of tenants arguing over parking spaces, the occasional police call about noisy parties, and the endless, weary optimism that, despite the mess, everyone keeps moving forward.
In the end, Poppy learned that even in a cramped council block, with noisy neighbours, leaky pipes, and a stubborn, bitter Ian, there is still a sliver of hope. She kept her twins close, held onto the modest wage that kept the lights on, and, when the world seemed to collapse, she whispered to herself, Ill do everything for you, my loves, and well make it through.
