“Is your wife really who you think she is?”
“Arthur, I didnt want to tell you this on your wedding day But do you know your new wife has a daughter?” My colleague at work pinned me to my seat with those words.
“What do you mean?” I refused to believe it.
“My wife spotted your Rebecca at the wedding and whispered to me, ‘Wonder if the groom knows his bride has a child in care?'”
“Imagine that, Arthur? Nearly choked on my canapés. My wife, Margaretshes a midwifesaid Rebecca signed away the newborn herself. Recognised her by that birthmark on her neck. Said she named the girl Emily and gave her own maiden nameWilkins, I think. Happened five years ago.” He watched me, waiting for a reaction.
I sat stunned behind the wheel. Theres a turn-up for the books.
I had to see for myself. Didnt want to believe idle gossip. Of course, I knew Rebecca wasnt some naïve eighteen-year-oldshe was thirty-two when we met. Shed had a life before me. But why abandon a child? How could anyone live with that?
Used my connections and soon tracked down the care home where Emily Wilkins was kept.
The manager introduced a bright-eyed little girl: “Meet our Emily Wilkins. How old are you, sweetheart? Tell the gentleman.”
Couldnt miss her lazy eye. My heart went out to her. Already felt she was mine, this tiny soul. My wifes own flesh and blood! Gran always said, “A child may be crooked, but to parents, theyre a wonder.”
Emily stepped forward boldly.
“Four. Are you my daddy?”
Stumbled over my words. What do you say to a child who sees a father in every man?
“Emily, lets talk. Would you like a mummy and daddy?” Daft question, but I already wanted to scoop her up and take her home.
“Yes! Will you take me?” She looked at me, hopeful and sharp.
“I will. But not yet. Can you wait, poppet?” My throat tightened.
“Ill wait. Promise you wont lie?” Emily grew serious.
“Promise.” I kissed her cheek.
At home, I told Rebecca everything.
“Love, I dont care about the past, but we need to bring Emily home. Ill adopt her properly.”
“Did you even ask me? Do I want some odd-eyed brat?” Rebecca raised her voice.
“Shes your daughter! Well fix her eye. Shes a wonderyoull love her.” Her stance shocked me.
In the end, I near enough forced her into it.
Took a year before we brought Emily home. I visited her often in care. We grew close. Rebecca still resisted, even tried halting the adoption midway. I pushed on.
Finally, the day came. Emily crossed our threshold, wide-eyed at every little thing. Soon, specialists corrected her visionno surgery needed, thank God. She grew into Rebeccas spitting image. My familytwo beauties.
For months, Emily hoarded biscuits, sleeping with the packet. Couldnt pry it loose. The hunger never left her. Rebecca fumed; I ached.
Tried to keep us together, but no luck. Rebecca never warmed to her. Loved only herselffrozen on that word “I.”
Our marriage frayed. Every row circled back to Emily.
“Whyd you drag this stray into our home? Shell never be normal!” Rebecca snapped.
I loved her deeply. Couldnt imagine life without her. Though Mum once warned, “Son, your choicebut we saw her with another man. Shes false as a three-pound note. Shell break your heart.”
Love blinds you. Rebecca was my ideal. But Emily cracked that illusion wide open.
A mate joked once, “Want to take a woman down a peg? Measure her with a tailors tape. Folk wisdom, that.”
“Pull the other one,” I said.
“Her bust, waist, hips. Do it, and youll fall right out of love.”
Still, I tried itfor a laugh.
“Rebecca, come here. Let me measure you.”
“Expecting a new dress?” she teased.
“Suppose so.” I played along, marking her curves.
Changed nothing. We laughed it off.
Then Emily fell illsniffles, fever. Clung to Rebecca, trailing her with a doll named Molly. At least shed swapped biscuits for toys.
But Rebecca snapped. “Stop whining! Give me that!” She yanked the doll away, flung it out the window.
“Mummy, my Molly! Shell freeze! Can I fetch her?” Emily sobbed, scrambling for the door.
I bolted after it. No liftran eight flights down. Found Molly dangling from a tree, snow in her hair. Melting flakes on her plastic face like tears.
Climbing back, something in me broke.
Rebecca sat coolly reading, untouched by Emilys tears. Thats when my love died. Dried up, vanished. She was pretty wrappingnothing inside.
We divorced. Emily stayed with me; Rebecca didnt fight it.
Later, I ran into her. She smirked. “You were just a stepping stone, Arthur.”
“Sharp eyes, Rebecca, but a heart of flint,” I said, calm at last.
She remarriedsome wealthy bloke.
“Poor sod. That woman shouldnt be allowed near children,” Mum said.
Emily grieved at first, longing for her mother. But my new wife, Claire, melted her heart. It baffled mehow a mother could reject her child twice.
Now, Claire loves Emily and our son Sam with all her heart. And thats family.
