**Diary Entry**
Another late night returning from work. My old Ford Fiesta spluttered and stalled a few times on the wayprobably sensing its days were numbered now that I was finally close to buying the brand-new BMW Id dreamt of for over a decade. I smirked, trudging up the stairs, imagining myself behind the wheel, cruising through Manchester. That dream was why Id denied myself so much, why Id worked like a dog, taking every overtime shift going. Just to get closer to it. When was the last time I took a holiday? Couldnt even remember. Management appreciated my dedication, sure, but they rarely handed out bonuses. Knew I wouldnt go anywhereId keep slogging away like a carthorse.
I lived on the outskirts, in a flat Id inherited from my grandad. My parents were down in Bristol, and we barely saw each other. Couldnt stand their naggingalways poking into my life, saying it was time to settle down, start a family. As if that had ever been a priority.
The lift was busted again, so I hauled myself up to the fifth floor. Nearly tripped over some drunk passed out by my dooruntil I flicked on my phone torch and realised it was just a kid. A girl, maybe twelve. The light startled her awake, and she scrambled to her feet, clutching a backpack. Then I spotted the photo that had slipped from her grip. It was me. I remembered that nighta ridiculous student party, posing with mates I hadnt spoken to in years. She snatched it back, pressing herself against the wall. Whered she get that? Was she connected to one of them? Most of us had drifted apart ages ago.
“Hello, Im here to see you!” she blurted.
I fished out my keys, pretending not to hear. What did she want? Who was she? A setup? Heard enough horror stories about kids used in scamsone wrong move, and youre done for. I glanced around. No cameras. No police lurking in the empty flats nearby. This estate was half-abandonedjust old folks whod died off, their kids leaving the flats to rot. The council couldnt even be bothered to fix the lights.
“I dont know you, and I didnt invite you,” I said, stepping inside.
“Wait! Ive got nowhere else to go! Youre Dennis Whitmore, right?” She looked terrified, but who knew what was going on in that head of hers? Trust no one in this world.
“Yeah. And?”
“Then its true! Youre my dad! You have to help me!”
I burst out laughing. Absolutely mental. Father? Id never had kids, never wanted them. At least, I hadnt thought about it until now.
“Clear off before I call the police,” I snapped, shutting the door.
Her voice cracked through the gap. “Its too late! Ive got nowhere to go! You cant just abandon me!”
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. What the hell was happening? Who was this girl? That photo? Why was she so sure I was her father?
In the kitchen, I chucked my keys on the table, boiled the kettle. Needed a quick cuppa and bed. Early start tomorroweven though it was supposed to be my day off. Every extra quid got me closer to that BMW.
But I couldnt eat. Couldnt stop thinking. Crept back to the door, listened. Heard quiet sobbing. She hadnt left. Said she had nowhere to go. What if it wasnt a scam? What if she really was mine?
I opened the door. She was curled on the steps, hugging her backpack, crying quietlynot like a kid throwing a tantrum, but like someone whod seen too much.
“Get in. Tell me your story, then well see.”
I cringed as she hurried inside, glancing into the dark hallway. No shouts, no footsteps. No trap, then. So what was the photo about? Did I actually have a daughter?
“Kitchen. Want tea?”
She nodded. I dug out some stale biscuitsall I had. Not one for stocking up, usually ate at the canteen.
She said her name was Emily. “You met my mum at a uni party. She was visiting Manchester with her drama group. Her diary said well, you had a one-night thing.” She flushed. “Not details! Just that it was special, but you kicked her out the next morning. She went home, tried to forget you, then found out she was pregnant. Raised me alone. Gave me everything, even when it was hard. But” She sniffed. “Shes sick. Needs heart surgery. Weve got no money. No family. If you help, Ill pay you back! Ill get a summer job, do anything”
Thirteen years ago, Id had a fling with a girl named Charlotte. One night. If shed got pregnant I studied Emily. Didnt see myself in heruntil I spotted the birthmark under her ear. A tiny red star. Just like mine.
My stomach lurched. Even if she was mine, I owed them nothing. Charlotte had hidden her from me.
“Im not giving you a penny. Stay tonight, then go home. Howd your mum even let you travel alone?”
“She doesnt know. I told her I was at a friends.” Her voice broke. “Please. If she dies, Ill go into care. Your own daughter!”
“First, prove youre mine. Second, Ive lived without a kid this long. Sofas there. Ill give you train fare in the morning. Dont come back.”
“Mum was right about you,” she spat. “Youre pathetic.”
“Try leaving, and Ill call the cops. Howd your mums heart handle that?”
She shut up, sipped her tea, didnt touch the biscuits. I gave her a blanket, left her on the sofa.
Hours later, I was still at the table. Found a fundraiser onlineCharlottes name, Emily mentioned as her daughter. Stuck at a few hundred quid. People preferred donating to toddlers, not a woman with a teenage kid.
I went to my room, opened the hidden compartment in the wardrobe. The money Id saved for the BMW. The smell of leather seats, the pride of driving something newmy boss swapped cars yearly, always showing off.
But why did I even want it? My old Fiesta ran fine. Id stopped maintaining it, waiting for the upgrade. For what? To impress women? That phase was long gone.
And now a daughter. That birthmark. My dad had one. His dad too. Or was it makeup? But even if it was a scam, a life was at stake.
I thought of Charlottebig, earnest eyes. That night had been wild. Id brought her back here, something I never did. Then panicked when she asked if I liked her, kicked her out. Couldve had a family. Did I even want the car now? Whod I drive around?
At dawn, I took Emily to the station, shoved the cash in her bag while she slept. She raged at me the whole waycalled me a terrible father. I just gripped the wheel, silent.
Three months later, coming home, I saw torchlight on the stairs. Grabbed my pepper spraythen froze. Charlotte and Emily stood at my door. Emily hurled herself at me.
“Daddy, thank you! Youre the best!” She babbled through tears. Charlotte smiled, eyes glistening.
That night, Id let the dream go. Hidden the money in Emilys bag, knowing shed find it.
“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered.
Shed changednot the girl I remembered, but a woman. Something twisted in my chest. What had I missed, chasing a car? A wife cooking dinner, reading bedtime stories
“Come in,” I muttered.
Theyd brought cakes. I made tea, awkward, unsure. After, Emily left us alone.
“I was scared to tell you,” Charlotte admitted. “You were so young, so reckless. After you threw me out, I thought Id manage alone. Never dreamed shed track you down.”
“You dont have to pay me back,” I said.
“Shes really mine?”
“Yours.”
I called in sickboss grumbled but caved. Took them to the park next day: rides, ice cream, candyfloss. Promised Id visit. And I did. Asked Charlotte to try being a family. For us, if not for Emily. She cried, said yes.
Two months later, I introduced them to my parents. They were thrilledfinally, their son had grown up.
And the BMW? I got it eventually. After a better job, after life changed. Because now, I had something real.
