When I opened the door to my ex-husband, my stomach droppedstanding next to him was a blonde woman in glossy heels.
“Mum, why does Auntie Sophie have such pretty shoes, and you dont?” asked six-year-old Emily, peering through the window at our neighbours feet.
Sarah set down her mug of cold coffee and looked at her daughter. The little girl stood by the windowsill in her favourite pink pyjamas, her nose pressed against the glass.
“Whats wrong with my shoes?” Sarah smiled, though something pinched inside her.
“Theyre not ugly, just old. Auntie Sophies are shiny with little heels. You always wear trainers.”
Sarah walked over and wrapped her arms around Emilys shoulders. Outside, their neighbour Sophie was walking by in her new patent heels, a smart coat, and a designer handbag. A polished, put-together woman in her forties whod recently divorced and, by the looks of it, landed on her feet.
“Em, love, pretty shoes dont make someone beautiful,” Sarah said softly. “Its whats inside that matters.”
“But shoes matter too,” Emily argued. “Dad used to buy you nice things, didnt he?”
At the mention of her father, Sarah tensed. James had left them six months ago, saying he wasnt happy anymore. The divorce wasnt final, but their family was already broken.
“Dad bought a lot of things,” Sarah answered carefully. “But things are different now.”
“Whens Dad coming home?”
Emily asked that question every day, and every day, Sarah didnt know what to say. James saw their daughter once a week, picking her up for a few hours before bringing her back. Every time, Emily hoped hed stay.
“I dont know, sweetheart. Maybe hell ring today.”
As if on cue, the phone rang. Sarah glanced at the screenJames.
“Hello?” she answered, forcing calm into her voice.
“Hi. Hows Em?”
“Shes fine. Asks about you.”
“Right. Listen, I need to talk to you. Properly.”
There was something official in his tone, businesslike. Sarahs stomach twisted.
“About what?”
“Not over the phone. Im coming over, alright?”
“Emilys here.”
“It concerns her too.”
He hung up before she could reply. Sarah looked at her daughter, still by the window.
“Em, Dads coming over.”
The little girls face lit up.
“Really? Is he staying for dinner?”
“I dont know, love. He just wants to talk.”
Emily dashed off to her room to change into something nice. Sarah stayed in the kitchen, trying to steady her nerves. Something about Jamess voice had set off alarm bells. Usually, he just called to arrange time with Emilynot for *serious talks*.
She tidied herself up quickly, running a brush through her hair and changing into a clean blouse. Not for him, but for herself. Whatever happened, she wanted to hold her head high.
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Emily burst out of her room in her best dress, saved for special occasions.
“Dads here!” she squealed.
Sarah opened the door and there stood Jamesin an expensive suit, smelling of unfamiliar cologne, looking *happy*. And beside him, a woman in her mid-twenties, blonde, in a chic coat and *those* shiny heels Emily had admired.
“Hi,” James said, as if bringing a stranger along was perfectly normal.
Sarahs face burned. Emily peeked out from behind her, staring at the woman.
“Dad, whos that?”
“Em, this is Lucy,” James ruffled her hair. “My girlfriend.”
Lucy smiled at Emily, but it didnt reach her eyes.
“Hi, Emily. Your dad talks about you all the time.”
“Can we come in?” James asked. “We really need to talk.”
Sarah stepped aside, letting them into the hallway. Lucys eyes swept over the flatthe worn furniture, the faded wallpaper, Emilys drawings pinned to the wallswith poorly hidden disdain.
“Come through,” Sarah said, keeping her voice steady.
They sat at the table. Emily wedged herself next to James, eyeing Lucy curiously, while Sarah sat opposite, hands folded in her lap.
“So. What did you want to talk about?”
James cleared his throat, clearly nervous.
“Right. Lucy and I are serious. Weve decided to move in together.”
“Congratulations,” Sarah said flatly. “Whats that got to do with me?”
“We want Emily to come live with us.”
The room tilted. Emily blinked up at her dad.
“Live where?”
“With us, sweetheart. Weve got a big flat, really nice. Youll love it.”
“What about Mum?”
James and Lucy exchanged a glance. Lucy spoke first.
“Mum would stay here. Youd live with Dad and me. Id be like your new mum.”
Emily frowned.
“Ive *got* a mum. I dont want another one.”
“Em, dont be difficult,” James said gently. “Youve always wanted us all together, yeah? Now you can be.”
“Not without Mum.”
Sarah clenched her fists under the table.
“James, can we talk alone?”
“No point hiding anything,” he shrugged. “Lucys part of the family now.”
“*Ours?*” Sarahs voice shook. “James, we have a *daughter*. You cant just swoop in and take her like a *thing*.”
“No one said *thing*,” Lucy cut in. “But be honestshed have a better life with her dad. Weve got money, stability.”
“And I dont?”
Lucys eyes flicked around the room.
“Well lets just say its not exactly ideal. And kids need a proper family model.”
Sarah stood up.
“Emily, go to your room.”
“But Mum”
“*Now*, please.”
Reluctantly, Emily trudged off, glancing back at the adults. Sarah waited until the door shut.
“James, have you lost your *mind*?” she hissed. “You bring your *girlfriend* here and announce youre taking my child?”
“Sarah, be reasonable,” James said, placating. “Look at the facts. Youre barely scraping by, working two jobs while Ems left to her own devices.”
“I provide everything she *needs*!”
“Bare minimum, yeah. But we can give her *more*better schools, holidays, hobbies. Shell *thrive*.”
Lucy nodded.
“And she needs a fathers influence. A male role model.”
“*Role model?*” Sarah nearly choked. “You walked out on your family for a *younger woman*, and now youre lecturing *me* on parenting?”
“Hey, easy,” James snapped. “I didnt *walk out*. We grew apartit happens.”
“Not to me. To *me*, it looks like you ran from responsibility straight into easier arms.”
Lucy bristled.
“Excuse me, I wont be spoken to like that! James and I love each other. And as for Emily, Id be a *great* mum to her.”
“A great mum?” Sarah stepped closer. “Do you know she hates custard but loves pancakes? That shes terrified of thunderstorms and needs a nightlight? That shes allergic to strawberries? Do you know how to calm her when she has a meltdown?”
Lucy faltered.
“Well Id *learn*”
“You *would*. But you *havent*. I *know* her because Im her *mother*. I held her when she cried, taught her to walk, stayed up when she was sick. And you think you can just *replace* me?”
“Sarah, *enough*,” James said. “No ones replacing you. But a child has rightsincluding the right to live with her dad.”
“And her *mum*! Or have you forgotten that?”
“Course not. But face itcan you give her what *we* can?”
The words cut deep. Yes, Sarah worked checkout shifts and cleaned offices evenings. Yes, money was tight. But she loved her daughter more than life itself.
“Money isnt *everything*, James.”
“Love doesnt pay bills, Sarah. Kids need *security*.”
“She *has* securitywith *me*!”
“In second-hand clothes,” Lucy scoffed. “Ive seen what she wears.”
Shame burned Sarahs cheeks. Most of Emilys clothes *were* from charity shopsbut she always picked the best, washed, ironed, made sure everything was *perfect*.
“Second-hand doesnt mean *rubbish*.”
“Of course not,” Lucy said patronisingly. “But *new* is better, isnt it?”
“And shiny heels matter more than a mothers love?”
“Whats *that* got to do with anything?”
