**Diary Entry 12th October 1983**
During the hardest years of Thatchers Britain, I took on a family. Married a woman with three childrenno kin to speak of, just the four of them against the world.
Christ, Edward, youre seriously wedding a shop assistant with three kids? Gone mad, have you? My flatmate, Colin, clapped me on the back with a laugh. Whats next, adopting a stray dog?
Whats it to you? I didnt look up from mending the broken radio, though I caught his smirk from the corner of my eye.
Back thenearly 80sour little Yorkshire town moved at its own dawdling pace. For a bloke of thirty-two with no ties, life was a blur of factory shifts, chess matches in the pub, and the telly murmuring in our cramped rented room. Sometimes Id watch the neighbours kids playing hopscotch in the lane, and the old ache would twist in my chest. But Id shake it off. What sort of life could a man build in a dingy bedsit?
Then, one damp Tuesday, I ducked into the corner shop for a loaf. Same as always. Only this time, *she* was behind the counterMargaret. Never noticed her before, but now I couldnt look away. Tired eyes, but warm, like embers in a dying fire.
White or brown? she asked, fingers dusted with flour.
Brown, I managed, feeling like a schoolboy caught gawping.
Fresh this morning, she said, wrapping it neatly before passing it over.
When our hands brushed, something sparked. I fumbled for coins, stealing glances. Plain as a postcard in her shop smock, mid-thirties maybe. Worn thin, but with a quiet light about her.
A week later, I spotted her at the bus stop, wrestling bags while three children orbited her like moons. The eldest, a lad of about fifteen, hefted a sack of potatoes; a girl clung to the smallest boys hand.
Let me help, I said, taking a bag.
Were fine she began, but Id already hoisted it onto the bus.
Mum, whos this? the little one piped up.
Hush, Billy, his sister scolded.
On the ride, I learned they lived near the mill, in a crumbling flat with peeling wallpaper. The boy was Thomas, the girl Lucy, the youngest Billy. Margarets husband had been gone five yearspneumoniaand shed kept them afloat since.
We get by, she said, that same tired smile.
That night, I stared at the ceiling. Her voice, Billys chattersomething long buried shifted inside me, like a seed cracking open.
After that, I became a regular. Milk one day, tea bags the next, sometimes dawdling by the biscuit aisle. The lads at work took the mickey.
Edward, mate, three trips for a tin of beans? Either youre poorly or lovesick, my foreman, Harris, grinned.
Fancied a walk, I muttered, ears burning.
Or a look at the shopgirl, eh? he winked.
One evening, I waited outside after closing.
Let me carry those, I said, nodding at her bags.
You neednt
Sleeping upside downs the tricky bit, I joked, taking them.
Walking home, she told me about Thomas doing odd jobs after school, Lucys prize for maths, Billy learning to lace his shoes.
Youre kind. But dont pity us, she said abruptly.
I dont. I *want* to be here.
Later, I fixed their dripping tap. Billy hovered, wide-eyed.
Can you mend my toy lorry?
Fetch it, then, I smiled.
Lucy asked for help with fractions. We scratched sums on scrap paper. Over tea, we talked. Only Thomas held back. Then I overheard:
Mum, whys he here? What if he bolts?
Hes not like that.
Theyre *all* like that!
I stood in the hall, fists tight. Nearly walked out. Then I remembered Lucys grin when she solved an equation, Billys crow of delight when his lorry rolled again, and I knewI couldnt leave.
The factory buzzed with gossip, but I ignored it. Id found my purpose.
Listen, Edward, Colin said one night, think it through. Why saddle yourself? Find a nice girl without all that baggage.
Youre daft, mate! Marry a shop assistant with three kids?
Piss off, I grunted, fiddling with the radio.
Its not thatthree kids, its
Shut it, Colin.
One evening, I helped Billy cut shapes for a school project, his tongue poking out in concentration.
Uncle Edward, are you staying forever? he asked suddenly.
How dyou mean?
Like a proper dad.
I froze, scissors mid-air. A floorboard creakedMargaret stood in the doorway, hand over her mouth. Then she fled to the kitchen.
She was weeping into a dishcloth.
Margaret, love, whats wrong? I touched her shoulder.
Sorry Billy doesnt understand
What if he does? I turned her to face me.
Her eyes widened.
You mean that?
Dead serious.
Then Thomas barged in.
Mum, you alright? He upset you? He glared at me.
No, its fine, Margaret sniffed.
Bollocks! Whys he always here? Sod off!
Let him speak, I met Thomass stare. Say your piece.
What dyou want? Weve no money, the flats a dumpwhy bother?
*You*. And Lucy. And Billy. And your mum. I need the lot of you. Im not leaving, so dont hold your breath.
Thomas stared, then slammed his bedroom door. Muffled curses followed.
Go to him, Margaret whispered. He needs you.
I found Thomas on the fire escape, knees drawn up, scowling at the dark.
Room for one more? I sat beside him.
What dyou want?
Grew up without a dad too. Mum did her best, but it was rough.
So?
Just know how it feelsno one to show you how to change a tyre or talk to girls.
I manage, he muttered.
Ill bet. Youre a good lad, Thomas. But being a man isnt just bravado. Its knowing when to let someone stand by you. For your family.
He was quiet. Then, barely audible:
You really wont leave?
Never.
Swear?
On my life.
Better not be lying, he almost smiled.
Aunt Joan, got anything plainer? I squinted at rings in Woolworths.
Edward Whitby, youre truly marrying Margaret? With *three* children?
Dead serious, I said, pointing to a simple band with a chip of sapphire.
I proposed without fussjust a posy of bluebells (shed once said they were her favourite). Billy barrelled into me at the door.
Whore those for?
Your mum. And theres a question, too.
Margaret froze when she saw them.
Edward My voice cracked. Might as well make it proper. Feels odd, just calling round.
Lucy gasped. Thomas looked up from his book. Margaret burst into tears.
Mum, is it a bad present? Billy panicked.
The *best*, love, she laughed through tears.
We married in the mills social club. Margaret wore a cream dress her sister sewed; I borrowed a suit. Thomas shadowed her all day, solemn as a vicar. Lucy strung up paper chains. Billy announced to strangers, This is my new dad! For always!
A month later, the mill gave us a semi on the new estate. Even Harris helped us move.
Alright, old man, he clapped my shoulder. Dont expect us to wallpaper it for you.
Wouldnt dream of it, I grinned.
And we did it ourselvesThomas sanding floors, Lucy picking paint, Billy fetching brushes. Margaret made shepherds pie, and we ate on tea chests. It was the happiest Id ever been.
Margaret left the shopI insisted she rest. Thomas started at the technical college, helping me build a shed. Lucy took up ballet. Billy simply *shone*.
Not that it was easy. We rowed. Once, Thomas came home reeking of lagerfirst time with mates. I didnt shout, just handed him water.
How is it?
Rubbish, he groaned. Never again.
Good. Lesson learned, then.
Years passed like chapters in a favourite book. Tonight, as I watch Billynow taller than meshow his own lad how to fix a train set, I see the circles closed. The love we planted took root, deeper than I ever dreamed.
Funny, that. All I ever wanted was a family. Turns out, I just had to build my own.
