The night stretched long and I could still hear the echo of my wife’s words: Shell have to sleep in the spare room, she said, referring to a girl I didnt even know existed, shes seven.
My phone buzzed, jolting me out of the monotony of the office. The voice on the other end was Tara, the woman I hadnt spoken to in eight years.
Is that you, Tara? I asked, halfexpectant, halfnervous.
Yes. We need to meet, urgently.
Nowhat girl? What are you talking about?
Come to the café on Oxford Street in an hour. Ill explain everything.
A cold shiver ran through me as I stared at my screen. A daughter? With Tara? We had split up long before I even remembered the exact date.
I called home, telling Ivy that Id be late at work. She muttered something about dinner, her tone as sour as ever. Tom, our son, was probably glued to his computer againfifteen and only interested in video games.
When I arrived at the café, Tara sat by the window, gaunt, dark circles under her eyes, a thin scarf pulled over her hair.
Hello, Kevin.
Hi. Whats happened?
Cancer. Stage four. Ive got maybe two or three months left.
I sat opposite her, a lump forming in my throat.
Oh God, Tara
Dont feel sorry for me. I didnt call you for that. I have a daughterPoppy. Shes yours.
How could that be? We were careful!
Luck isnt always on our side. I found out I was pregnant a month after we broke up. By then youd already moved back with Ivy.
Why didnt you tell me?
Why would I? You chose your family, your son. I didnt want to wreck what youd built.
Silence fell. I thought back to that yearhow tired I was of Ivys endless demands for money, new things, and how Tara had seemed so lighthearted, asking for nothing but love. Three months of happiness, then Ivys ultimatum: return to her or lose my son. Tom was only seven then, crying for his dad to come back. I did, but never went back to Tara. I even ended things over the phone, coldly saying it was over.
Show me a picture.
Tara pulled out her phone. A little girl with light hair and grey eyes stared backmy eyes.
My God she looks exactly like me as a child.
Yes. Stubborn like you, but kindhearted.
Where is she now?
At home, staying with a neighbour. Tara, Im dying. I have no relatives. If you dont acknowledge paternity, Poppy will be sent to a childrens home.
Of course Ill acknowledge her! A childrens home? Shes my child!
And my wife? My son?
Ill sort it out later.
Think it over, Kevin. This isnt a game. This child will lose her mother, be traumatised, frightened. Your family might not accept her.
This is my daughter. No arguments.
Taras tears fell silently.
Thank you. I was terrified youd turn away.
When can I see Poppy?
As soon as you like, but youll need to prepare your family.
That evening I called a family meeting. Ivys face was stonecold, Tom was buried in his phone.
I have a daughter, from another woman. Shes seven.
The room went dead, then erupted.
What? You cheated on me?
Eight years ago, when we were on the brink of divorce.
We werent! You ran off to a whorehouse!
Ivy, calm down. Tara is dying. The child would be left with no one.
And what? Thats our problem?
Shes my daughter!
An illegitimate girl! Ill never let her into this house!
Tom looked up, confused.
Dad, why does she matter to us?
Shes your sister.
Shes not my sister! Shes a stranger!
I stared at my wife and son, both strangers to me now.
Ill take Poppy, with or without your consent.
Then chooseus or her!
Ivy, are you serious?
Absolutely. Its either my family or that bastard.
Dont call the child that!
Ill call her what I want! This is my house!
This is my house too.
Not for long.
A week later Tara was moved to a hospice. I drove to collect Poppy. She stood in the entryway with a tiny suitcase, thin and pale, eyes wide.
Good afternoon. Are you my dad?
Yes, love. Im your father.
Mum said youd pick me up.
Ill take you home now.
Will mum get better?
I sat down, trying to hold back the tremor in my voice.
Mums very ill, Poppy. She might not recover.
Will she die?
Possibly.
She nodded, no tears, as if she already understood.
Ive packed a few things. Mum said youll buy new ones.
Ill buy whatever you need.
When we stepped into the house, Ivy met us at the doorway.
Is this your little monster?
Ivy, look after her!
Whats the point? Let her know her place straight away. Shell sleep in the spare room.
In the spare room? Have you lost your mind?
Where else? Theres no spare bedroom.
In the guestroom.
Thats my study!
Now its the nursery.
Poppy pressed herself against the wall, eyes filled with terror.
Dad, maybe I should go to a childrens home?
No childrens homes! Youre mine, youll stay here.
Ivy hissed, Well see.
The first week was hell. Ivy ignored Poppy, Tom teased her, calling her the gutterrat. She ate alone after everyone else, slept on a sofabed in the guestroom because Ivy refused to buy a proper bed.
Why bother? She might not settle.
I tried to protect her, but work kept me away for days, and at home the atmosphere was a battlefield. Tara passed a month later; I took Poppy to the funeral. She stood by the grave, lips biting, not shedding a tear.
Dad, is Mum in heaven now?
Yes, love.
Does she see me?
Of course.
Then Ill be good, so she isnt sad.
At home, Ivys cruelty escalated. She denied Poppy food when I wasnt there, forced her to clean the whole house, and Tom started stealing her things, ruining her notebooks.
Ivy, stop! Shes a child!
Foreign child! Know your place!
This is my child!
Your son, Tom! This is your mistake!
Three months later, I came home early from work. Shouts filled the house. I rushed upstairs to Toms room and found him beating Poppy with a belt.
Youll learn not to touch my stuff!
I didnt! she sobbed.
Youre lying, you little witch!
I stormed in, snatched the belt, pushed Tom away.
What the hell are you doing, you monster?
He took my tablet!
Didnt I take it? she stammered, bruises blooming across her arms.
Even if you did, do you have the right to hit her?
Mom said we have to discipline!
Did Mom say that?
I walked downstairs to the kitchen where Ivy was sipping tea.
Did you let Tom beat Poppy?
Im teaching him discipline. Not my problem.
Shes seven, Ivy!
Fine then. Im leaving, and Im taking Poppy.
Dont! Tom will stay with me.
Let him stay if youve raised a sadist. I dont need that son.
I packed my things in an hour. Poppy trembled on the bed.
Dad, is it because of me?
No, love. Its because of them. Lets go.
What about my brother?
Hes not my brother. He doesnt act like one.
We rented a modest twobedroom flat on the outskirts. When Poppy saw her own room, a smile finally broke across her face.
Is it really mine?
Yes. Well set it up however you want.
Can we have pink wallpaper?
We could even go for gold if you wish.
The divorce was messy. Ivy demanded everything. We split the house, sold the car, and I had to pay child support for Tomabout a quarter of my salary. Yet I never regretted it. I watched Poppy bloom, her fear fading, her laughter returning.
At school she was shy at first, but a kind teacher helped her settle in.
Dad, Ive made a friend!
Whats her name?
Molly. She invited me to her birthday.
Wonderful! Lets get her a present.
A year later Tom called.
Dad, can we meet?
Whats up?
I need to talk.
We met in the park. Hed grown, his eyes still carrying a hint of sadness.
Dad, Im sorry.
For what?
For Poppy. I was wrong.
I know.
Mum said she was a stranger, thats why you left us.
I didnt abandon you. I left the cruelty.
I get it now. Mum found a new man. He raises me too, with a belt.
What now?
I realised how Poppy felt. Can I see her?
Ill ask her.
Poppy hesitated, fear still lingered, but I convinced her that perhaps Tom had changed.
We met at a café; Tom brought a huge plush bear.
Poppy, Im sorry. I was a fool.
Its alright. We all make mistakes.
Are you really my sister?
Yes, on my fathers side.
Can we see each other sometimes?
Poppy looked at me, I gave a small nod.
Yes, if you promise never to hit me again.
I swear!
We began meeting, at first rarely, then more often. Tom grew attached to his sister, protecting her at school, helping with homework. When he turned eighteen, he moved in with me.
Mom, Im leaving.
To that traitor?
To Dad and my sister.
Shes not my sister!
She is. Shes family. And you, youre just a nasty person.
Ivy ended up alone; her new boyfriend left her for someone younger. Tom stopped calling. I stopped paying child supporthe was an adult now.
Our little flat was cramped but happy. Poppy excelled at school, Tom got into university and worked parttime.
One evening we all gathered in the kitchen, sipping tea, laughing.
Dad, Poppy said softly, thank you for taking me.
Its I who should thank you.
For what?
For coming into my life. Showing me what truly matters.
What matters?
Love. Not money, not status. Love.
Tom nodded.
Youre right, Dad. I understood that when Mum chose a new man over us.
Shes just unhappy, Poppy replied.
Why do you still defend her after everything?
Because bitterness destroys the one who holds it. Mum taught me that. Shes my real mother.
I pulled Poppy into a hug.
You had a smart mother.
She did. But I have a dad now, and a brother. Thats family too.
A real family, Tom added.
And that felt true. Blood isnt the only glue; sometimes its the choice to stand together, no matter what.
