**Diary Entry 10th June**
I never understood why my parents didnt love me. Dad was always irritated by my presence, and Mum went through the motions of caring for me like a choreher real concern was keeping Dad in good spirits.
GranDads mum, Margaretwould say they both worked hard so Id want for nothing. The truth came out when I was eight, after I overheard them arguing.
“Emma, this stews too salty again!” Dad bellowed. “Cant you do anything right?”
“Martin, I tasted itit was fine!” Mum protested weakly.
“Everythings always fine with you! Couldnt even give me a son. Im a laughingstock!”
No one likely mocked himhe was a stern man, a lorry driver whod seen his share of lifebut the bitterness in his voice stung. Thats when I realised why they sent me to Grans whenever he came homehe couldnt stand the sight of his “not-son.”
Gran was kind. We did homework together, cooked, even sewed clothes. Still, it hurt knowing my parents resented me. Soon after, they announced they were moving to Londonfor a fresh start, maybe even a son. Of course, it was Dads idea. Mum just nodded along.
The catch? They didnt want me.
“Youll stay with Gran for now,” Mum muttered, avoiding my eyes.
“Good. Id rather be here anyway,” I said, chin upthough my chest ached.
No matter. I had Gran, my friends, my teachers. Let them live as they pleasedI wouldnt waste tears on them.
By the time I turned ten, they had their precious sonOliver. Dad announced it proudly over video call. They never visited. Mum called occasionally; Dad just “sent his regards.” They sent Gran money now and then, but mostly, she provided for me.
A year later, Mum suddenly decided I should move in. She came in person, chirping, “Sweetheart, well all be together now! Youll finally meet your brother!”
“No. Im happy here,” I snapped.
“Dont be difficult! Youre old enough to help.”
Gran cut in sharply. “If youre after a free babysitter, think again.”
“Shes *my* daughter!” Mum hissed.
Gran stood firm. “Abandoned her, more like. File for custody, and youll lose her for good.”
They arguedI didnt hear the restbut Mum never brought it up again.
The next ten years passed without a word from them. I finished school, then college, and with help from Grans old friend Albert, landed a job as an accountant. I started dating Tom, a lorry driver, and we planned to marryuntil Gran passed.
Dad and Mum showed up for the funeral, leaving Oliver behind”too young for such things.” I didnt care. Grief swallowed me whole.
Which is why I barely registered Dads words at the wake.
“Hmm Place needs work,” he mused, eyeing the flat. “Wont fetch much.”
“Martin, *really*,” Mum chided.
“Needs sorting. Weve got Oliver to think about.”
Albert frowned. “Selling it?”
“Obviously. Oliverll need a place eventually. Thisll cover the depositwell manage the mortgage by the time hes eighteen.”
I stared out the window, numb.
“Youd toss your own daughter out?” Albert asked.
“Shes grown! Let her husband house her.”
Albert sighed. “Nat was right about you. But it wont work. The wills airtightthe flats hers.”
Dad fell silent, then spat, “Turned Gran against us, did you?”
Albert cut in. “Try contesting it. Youll lose.”
Dad lasted a day before realising the law wasnt on his side.
“Claire, have you no conscience?” he tried. “Olivers the man of the family now. Give up the flatwell even pay you. Ten grandenough for your own deposit.”
“No.”
“Youll regret this!”
“Call the police if you like,” I said flatly.
They left. Four years passed without contact. Tom and I married, had a daughterSophie. Money was tight, but we were happy.
Then Mum called, screaming: “This is your fault! If you hadnt clung to that flat, your dad wouldnt have overworkedhe wouldnt have taken that route!”
“Are you asking for help with the funeral?” I asked quietly.
“I need *nothing* from you! Olivers an orphan because of you!” She hung up.
Tom squeezed my hand. “You know this isnt on you.”
“I know.”
A year later, Mum reappearedolder, bitter. “We need money. Olivers starting uni soon. Its the least you owe us.”
“I owe you *nothing*,” I said.
“Grans upbringing shows. She always hated mepoisoned you too.”
“Say another word about her, and Ill throw you out.”
She left with a threat: “Youll see.”
A week later, a court summons arrived.
“Lost your mind?” I asked Mum.
“The laws on my side. A mother protects her child.”
“Am I not yours?” I whispered, hanging up.
In court, Mum spun a sob storyhow she *had* to leave me with Gran, how she lost her husband, how they struggled. The judge pitied heruntil I spoke.
The clincher? Their finances werent as dire as she claimed. The case was dismissed.
She left without a word, shooting me a venomous glare.
I doubt this is the last Ill see of her.
