**Diary Entry 19th October, 2023**
“Look who finally decided to show up!” bellowed David Thompson. “You can turn right back around and leave!”
“Dad, whats this about?” Andrew said, baffled. “Twenty years Ive been gone, and this is the welcome I get?”
“If it were up to me, Id have met you with a belt!” David growled, gripping his waistband. “But no matterwell settle this now!”
“Hold on, easy!” Andrew stepped back. “Im not a child anymoreI can fight back!”
“There it isthats your true nature!” David snapped, still clutching the belt. “Bullying the weak, running from the strong, deceiving the kind, and serving the cruel!”
“Whats got you so riled? What exactly am I guilty of?” Andrew shrugged. “Even if I did something wrong, twenty years have passed! Surely its time to let it go!”
“Easy for you to sayyoure the one who wronged us! Of course youd want forgiveness, but youll get none from me!”
“Then tell mewhat did I even do?” Andrews frustration mounted. “At college, I kept wondering why my own parents branded me a traitor, barred me from home, ignored every letter I sent!”
“And you claim you dont know?” David sneered.
Before Andrew could press further, the shouting drew his mother, Margaret.
“God help me!” she cried. “The devils brought him back! Throw him out, David! Shame on us in our old age!”
Andrew froze, stunned. Margaret added, “If I had the strength, Id thrash you myself! But I see fates marked you already.” She pointed to the bruise under his eye.
“Someone landed a good hit!” David chuckled. “Id shake their hand.”
“Mum, Dadhave you lost your minds? Twenty years, and this is how you greet me?”
“Who gave you that shiner?” David demanded. “Well chase you off now and thank him later!”
“How should I know? Some bloke on the bus recognised mePeter, our old neighbour. Started chatting. Then at the stop, this lad jumps me, punches me, spits in my face, and bolts!”
“Brave soul,” David smirked. “Ill ask Peter who it was.”
“Thats all you care about? That Ive been gone two decades doesnt matter?”
“Why would we want a traitor here?” Margaret spat.
“Traitor? How?”
“Because you are!” a third voice shouted from the kitchen.
“Whos this brave soul now?” Andrew snapped.
A young man stepped into view.
“Thats the little rat who hit me!” Andrew pointed.
“Well done, grandson!” David grinned. “Seized the moment!”
“Grandson? What the hell?” Andrew recoiled.
“Thats right!” Margaret stepped between them. “Your son. Abandoned.”
“I dont have a son!” Andrew shot back. “If I did, Id know!”
“Then remember why you fled this village twenty years ago!” Davids voice cracked with rage.
***
Andrew never called it “fleeing.” Hed planned to leave for university, just earlier than expected. He needed time to settle and find work before term started. The scholarship wouldnt cover much, and asking his parents for money was out of the questionthey could barely afford postage for food parcels.
But there was another reason. Before he left, the village girls had grown relentless. If hed stayed another fortnight, he might never have left. So he dodged impending betrothals and left.
Why? Simple: he wanted a life at sea. Leaving a wife behind while he sailed? Not for him. No cuckolds horns for Andrew.
The sea called by chance. After school, hed served in the navy and loved it. When he returned home, he had his acceptance letter to maritime collegefuture ships engineer.
Before term began, he indulged in the usual post-service antics. Young lads fresh from duty had one gear: full throttle. Drinking, brawling, chasing skirtsno brakes till they blacked out.
Andrew watched these lads return as proud eagles, only to end up tetheredwedding bands, kids, mortgages. No thanks. He kept his wits, even wiring his belt shut to avoid temptation.
His resolve made him prime husband material. The village girls wooed him, their families lobbying his parents. Andrew saw the writing on the wall: either hed cave, or his parents would. So he left early.
He arrived, secured dock work, a dorm bed, and wrote home: all settled, no worries. Their reply? Fury. They branded him a coward, a traitor, disowned him, and wished him drowned.
Confused, he wrote again. No reply. He couldnt visitcollege held him. But he kept writing.
At graduation, one letter camehalf a scrap of paper: *”Drown, you traitor!”* Signed *David and Margaret Thompson*no “Mum” or “Dad.”
He stopped expecting replies, signed onto a ship, and sent occasional letters. At forty, he returned, desperate for answers.
The reunion was anything but warm.
“You ran because you didnt want us marrying you off!” Andrew mocked. “I saw the deals you struck with half the village!”
“We wanted you matched well! But you knocked up Natalie and bolted!” Margaret hissed.
“Who?”
“She came to us after you leftpregnant, orphaned, needing help. We took her in, raised your son!” David said.
Andrew stared at the young man. “Call Natalie. Lets settle this.”
“Shes been dead ten years,” the ladStansaid. “Gran and Grandad raised me.”
“Brilliant,” Andrew muttered. “And my *son* greeted me with a fist.”
“You deserved worse! Abandoning Mum like that!” Stan shouted.
“So youre all saints, and Im the villain?”
“A coward, too!” David added. “Ran from responsibility!”
“Natalie said she wrote to you about the baby,” Margaret said. “You told her to get rid of it!”
“Did you see this letter?” Andrew asked.
“We believed herunlike you!”
“Fine. DNA test. If hes mine, crucify me.”
The test was negative. Andrew handed it to them.
“Clear now? Natalie knew I wasnt the father. But she came to you. The real tragedy? You believed a stranger over your own son. Twenty years of hatredfor nothing. Your forgiveness means nothing now.”
He left. Stan stayed, milking their guilt, insisting the test was wrong, that his mother was a saint.
Like mother, like son.
**Lesson Learnt:** Blind faith in accusationsespecially against familybreeds lifelong regret. Truth withers when trust dies first.
(End of entry.)
