The new stepmum of my dad cleared out all Mums things while I was at work.
Ellie, are you even listening? I asked when youll hand in the report!
What? Oh, sorry, Claire. By Friday everything will be ready.
By Friday? Its already Thursday! Claire shook her head with a hint of exasperation. Youve barely been here lately. Is it that Poppy again?
Ellie clenched her fists under the desk. Just hearing her dads new wifes name made her throat tighten.
Id rather not talk about it.
You really should. Claire leaned her chair closer. You need a proper sitdown with your father. Hes lost his head completely. He married that well, she showed up six months after your mums funeral!
Eight months, Ellie corrected automatically. And Dads an adult, he knows what hes doing.
Exactly, he doesnt! Men his age are especially vulnerable. And that Poppy is youngshes probably eyeing our flat.
Ellie wanted to argue, but deep down she knew Claire was right. Poppy was eighteen years younger than her dad. Theyd met at the local health centre where she worked as a nurse. Back then Dad still shuttled Mum to her appointments.
Ive got to go, Ellie grabbed her papers. We agreed I could leave early today.
Off you pop. Just promise youll call if anything comes up. Anytime.
Ellie nodded and slipped out of the office. A fine October drizzle fell as she tugged up her coat collar and hurried to the bus stop. The journey home was about twenty minutes by bus, then a fiveminute walk. Shed lived with her parents in a twobed flat on the third floor of a crumbling ninestorey block. After Mum died shed thought about moving out, but her salary was modest and rents were skyhighhardly enough to cover a months bills.
Dad had persuaded her to stay.
Ellie, dont leave me alone, hed said. Im as lost without your mum as a hand without a wrist. I need you nearby.
So she stayed, cooking, cleaning, laundrying, trying to fill the void Mum had left. Then Poppy arrived.
At first Dad simply mentioned a nice nurse. Then he lingered on walks. Six months later he announced he was getting married.
You see, love, I cant do this by myself. I need a woman by my side. Mum would have understood.
Ellie didnt make a scene. She slipped out of the room, locked herself in, and wept into her pillow until sunrise.
The wedding was a tiny affairreally, hardly an affair at all. Nobody even mentioned it to Ellie. She learned the whole thing after Dad brought Poppy home, passport stamp in hand.
Meet my wife.
Poppy was tall, blonde with bright lipstick and manicured nails. She could pass for thirtyfive, though Dad claimed she was fortytwo.
Hello, Ellie, she said, extending a hand. Hope we can be friends.
Ellie shook her cold fingers and drifted into the kitchen, where Mums beloved rosepatterned mug sat on a shelf. She filled it with water, hands trembling.
At first Poppy behaved cautiouslysmiling, asking about work, offering help. Ellie kept her replies short, staying aloof. She couldnt forgive Dads haste; Mum had died only months ago and hed already moved on.
Gradually Poppy settled in. She rearranged the bedroom, swapped the livingroom curtains, bought a new set of dishes and shoved Mums things into a cupboard.
Your mum had great taste, she declared, but its all a bit dated now. Time for a refresh.
Ellie stayed silentwhat could she say? The flat was technically Dads, and on paper she owned nothing there.
A month later the hints started.
Ellie, youre a grown woman, thirtythree now. Time to sort your own life out. Living with mum‐anddad forever you get the picture.
Its my home, Ellie snapped.
Dads home, Poppy corrected softly, and now mine as well.
Dad never intervened; he seemed deaf and blind to the tension, strolling around with a blissful grin, constantly wrapping an arm around Poppys waist and calling her pet names. Ellie could no longer recognise the man whod spent thirty years with Mum in love and harmony.
Stepping off the bus, Ellie quickened her pace, eager to get home, strip off soggy shoes and sip something hot. Maybe Dad would be outhed said hed pop over to a mates. She imagined herself sitting in the kitchen, remembering Mum.
Mum had baked cabbage pies, read aloud at night, stroked Ellies hair and whispered that everything would be okay, even when the doctors gave up hope.
Dont be sad, love. Im always with you, Mum would say.
Ellie fished out her keys and opened the door. The flat was quiet. She slipped off her wet boots, hung her coat and padded to her room.
She froze on the threshold.
The room looked different. She couldnt quite put her finger on what had changed, but the emptiness was so palpable it stole her breath.
She looked around. Bed, wardrobe, desk by the windowall still there. But where was Mums little jewellery box that always sat on the nightstand? The embroidered napkin Mum had handstitched before Ellie was born? The framed photographs?
She lunged to the wardrobe, flinging open the doors. On the top shelf had rested Mums blue shawl, the one Dad had given her on their anniversary. It was gone.
No, no, no
Her hands shook as she rummaged through the remaining items. No shawl, no cardigan, no books shed carefully saved, no photo album at the bottom. Everything had vanished.
She burst into the hallway, stormed into the master bedroom, only to find it emptied tooMums perfume on the dresser, her hairbrush, even the little cosmetic bag shed never wanted to discard.
What on earth is happening? she whispered.
The flats front door swung open and voices slipped in.
what a relief, finally got rid of that junk, Poppy said. I dont see why we should keep dead peoples stuff. Its an unhealthy attachment.
Youre right, dear, Dad replied. We need to move on.
Ellie slipped into the corridor. Dad and Poppy stood by the coat rack, peeling off their jackets. Seeing their daughter, Poppy smiled.
Oh, Ellie, youre home. Weve been tidying up while you were away.
Where are Mums things? Ellies voice was hoarse.
What things?
Everything! The box, the photos, the books, her clothes! Where are they all?
Poppy sighed as if it were a trivial matter.
I took them to the church, tossed a few bits out. Ellie, love, your mums been gone over a year now. Time to let go.
You what did you do?!
Ellie felt the floor drop out from under her. Dad stood silent, watching the side.
Dad, did you hear what she said? She threw Mums things away!
Ellie, stop shouting, Dad finally said. Poppys right. You cant live in the past. Its an unhealthy attachment.
Unhealthy attachment? Ellie couldnt believe her ears. Those were Mums memories! The only thing I have left!
You still have the memories, Poppy replied gently. Isnt that enough?
Not enough, Ellie said firmly. I need more.
She stepped closer; Poppy instinctively stepped back.
You had no right, Ellie whispered.
Im the lady of the house now. I decide what stays and what goes.
Youre not the lady! Youre a stranger! Ellies voice cracked into a scream.
Ellie! Dad raised his voice for the first time. Apologise at once. Poppy is my wife; you must respect her.
Respect her? The woman who threw away everything that reminded me of Mum?
Your mum is dead, Dad said sharply. Accept it.
How can you say that? You lived together for thirtyfive years! She died, and youre already with someone else?
Enough, Dad snapped, waving a hand. Im tired of thistired of your silent protests, your looks at Poppy. I deserve happiness.
At the cost of Mums memory?
Memory isnt the issue. I love Poppy. I want a life with her. If you cant accept that
He didnt finish, but Ellie understood.
Fine, Ill move out.
Ellie, wait, Poppy interjected. No ones evicting you. Just set some ground rules. This is our homeDads and mine. You can stay if you respect our boundaries.
What boundaries? Ellie asked, exhausted.
Dont enter our bedroom, dont touch my things, dont turn the flat into a museum of Mum.
Ellie looked at Dad, who avoided her gaze.
Alright, she said. As you wish.
She retreated to her room, shut the door, sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around her head. She wanted to cry, but tears wouldnt comejust a cold, allconsuming emptiness.
Mums thingsher jewellery box, the embroidered napkin, the photo frameswere gone, tossed with other rubbish. The very things Ellie touched to feel Mums presence were now mixed with leftovers in a bin somewhere.
A knock sounded at the door.
Ellie, can I come in? Dads voice.
She didnt answer. The door cracked open and he stepped in.
Love, lets talk.
About what? Ellie asked without turning.
Poppy just wants to make the house cozier. She thought getting rid of the old stuff would help us move forward.
By throwing away everything that reminded me of Mum?
Dad sighed.
Ellie, I know its hard. Its hard for me too. I loved your Mum with all my heart. Shes gone, and I cant spend the rest of my life in grief.
Ellie turned, seeing a sixtyfiveyearold man, slightly stooped, yet somehow younger than his years. Poppy had, it seemed, given him a new lease on life.
Dad, Im not against your happiness. I just cant watch you erase Mums memory.
Poppy isnt erasing anything. Shes just clearing the way for us to live.
For us, but not for me.
Dad shook his head.
Youre stubborn, just like your mum was.
He left, closing the door gently. Ellie was alone again. She opened the wardrobe, hoping for a miracle. On the top shelf she found a plain plastic bag containing three photographs: Mum on their wedding day, Mum cradling a baby Ellie, and Mum smiling on a summer garden trip, all inside a cheap sleeve.
She grabbed her phone and dialled Sophie.
Hey, can I crash at yours?
What happened? Sophie asked, instantly concerned.
Ill explain when I get there.
Come over.
Ellie packed a bag, tucking the three photos, a change of clothes and her small makeup case, and left the flat. In the kitchen Dad and Poppy were sipping tea, Poppy chatting animatedly while Dad nodded.
Im staying for a couple of days, Ellie announced.
Where to? Dad turned.
To a friend.
Ellie, dont be ridiculous, Poppy chided. Everyone argues sometimes. Lets just start with a clean slate.
A clean slate? Ellie smirked. You threw away my mothers memories. How do you expect me to forget?
It was just stuff!
Just stuff to you, but the last thing that tied me to Mum.
You still have the memories, Poppy repeated. Isnt that enough?
Not enough, Ellie said firmly. I need the things too.
She walked out, rain drumming harder now, heading toward Sophies flat about fifteen minutes away. Sophie opened the door, dry as a towel, already holding a fluffy orange tabby.
Youre drenched! Quick, off with your coat, Ill fetch a towel.
Ellie stepped inside, the warmth and the smell of fresh biscuits wrapping around her.
Tell me everything, Sophie said, handing her a towel.
Ellie recounted the whole saga. Sophies eyes widened.
Shes gone off the rails, isnt she? Throwing away someone elses belongings?
She thinks shes the owner now.
And your dad just goes along?
He said it was time to let go.
Sophie frowned.
Maybe not everythings lost. When did they take the bin out?
This afternoon, I think.
Did you try calling the refuse company?
Ellie shook her head; shed never thought of it.
Lets try. Sophie dialled the number for Housing Services Ltd.
Hello, is the skip from Oak Street, number 32 already collected today? the operator asked. Yes, its gone to the landfill. Alright, thanks.
Sophie hung up, looking apologetic.
Theyve already dumped it. Nothings salvageable.
Ellie nodded, the answer shed feared.
The important thing is you still remember Mum, Sophie said, hugging her. No amount of junk can change that.
I need to touch something that still smells of her, Ellie whispered.
I get it, Sophie replied, pressing a gentle hand on Ellies shoulder. Well figure something out.
Night fell while they talked, the flat growing cozier as Sophie made tea. Ellie lay on the sofa, the orange tabby purring against her. She barely slept, thoughts of Poppys betrayal and Dads quiet acquiescence looping.
Morning arrived, Sophie left for work, promising to return that evening.
Dont think about it too much, love, she said. Ill be back.
Ellie brushed past the kitchen, ignoring the phone calls from Dad that went straight to voicemail.
A text pinged later from Poppy: Ellie, can we meet and talk? I didnt mean to hurt you. Lets sort this out.
Ellie stared at the screen, then typed back: Where?
Maybe the café that used to be a bakery on your street?
Six pm then.
She set the phone down, wondering what Poppy wanted.
At six, Ellie arrived at the little café, spotting Poppy already at a corner table, stirring her coffee. When Ellie sat down, Poppy gave a tentative smile.
Thanks for coming.
Ellie stayed silent. The waitress hovered, but Ellie declined.
I wont stay long.
Poppy sipped, then set the cup down.
I know youre angry. I didnt think about the impact of clearing out Mums stuff. I just wanted space for us.
This isnt just space, Ellie said calmly. Its erasing the last link I had to her.
Im not trying to replace her, Poppy replied. Im your dads wife, thats all.
So this is your home, too?
Yes, legally.
Then why does it feel like youre trying to rewrite history?
I felt like an intruder in a house full of someone elses memories.
Ellie sighed.
I never wanted to be your enemy. It just hurts to see Dad move on so quickly after thirtyfive years with Mum.
He didnt forget her, Poppy said quietly. He just cant stay alone.
And I? Ellie asked. Am I just a daughter in his way?
Youre his child, thats a fact.
Ellie looked at the cafés window, rain now a gentle patter.
Fine. Ill try to make peace, but you must understand why Im upset.
Im sorry. Ill try to be more considerate.
Apologies wont bring back the things.
I kept a few photos, Poppy said, sliding a small envelope across the table. The most important ones.
Ellie opened itthree glossy prints: Mums wedding, Mum cradling a baby Ellie, Mum laughing in a garden.
Just three? Ellie murmured.
Better than none.
Ellie nodded, feeling a sliver of calm. She left the café, the rain now a soft drizzle again. Her phone buzzed: She slipped the three photographs into her pocket, thanked Poppy for the small peace offering, and walked home, ready to rebuild her life around the memories that would always linger, no matter how many walls were painted over.
