**Diary Entry**
It all came to light by sheer chance. My little four-year-old sister, Lucy, had developed an umbilical hernia. The doctors insisted we act quicklythe sooner the operation, the better. Lucy stubbornly refused to go to the hospital without Dad. We waited until he returned from his long-haul lorry route, and he walked her right up to the operating theatre.
“Daddy, will you wait for me here?” my sister sobbed.
“Where else would I go, love? Of course Ill wait. Why are you crying? Youre my brave girl.”
“Im not crying, Im just breathing hard!”
And with that, they took her away. A routine procedure, nothing complicated. But the hospital required Mum and Dad to donate bloodstrict policy.
“Only one of us should match her blood type, right?” Dad asked. “Shouldnt you run tests first? No point in both of us giving blood.”
“Theres no such thing as ‘extra’ blood!” the doctor said firmly.
So they both donated. Mum went pale, swaying like she might faint any second. Afterward, she couldnt sit still, darting in and out of the ward, chatting nervously with the nurses. When Lucy was finally wheeled out, Dad went to meet her, just as hed promised. He stayed with her the whole weekend. Mum, calmer now, checked in on Lucy before dragging me home, though I protested.
“I can stay with her too,” I insisted.
I was already eleven. Lucy, my fair-haired little sister, was my whole world. Maybe even more than Mum and Dad. How could anyone not adore her? An angela real-life, golden-haired angel.
Imagine a small market town with its modest hospital. New, well-equipped, even had its own blood bankfancy that. But a towns a town. Three days later, Lucy was home, and Dad was packing for another haul. He popped out to buy cigarettes for the road and returned like a thundercloud.
“Daddy!” Lucy wailed from her room (she was still on bed rest). “Did you get my marshmallows?”
Dad left the shopping bag in the hallway. Told me to go to Lucys room straight away. Then he took Mum by the elbow and steered her into the kitchen.
“John John, whats wrong?”
What followed was a conversation I wouldnt understand for yearsback then, neither Lucy nor I had a clue. She was too young, and I obeyed Dad without question. Off to her room I went. Lucy whimpered, demanding Daddy and her sweets, so I offered to read to her. Thank God, she agreed.
In the kitchen, Johneyes wildcornered Jane against the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.
“Is it true? Lucys not mine?”
“What? John, are you mad? How could you say such a thing?”
“Ill tell you what Im saying. Im blood type A positive. Youre O positive. And hers” He jerked his head toward the door. “B negative. If theres been a mix-up, we can re-test.”
Jane shoved past him, slumped at the table, and dropped her head into her hands with a groan.
“Bastards. I *told* them! Why do they always meddle? Theyre jealous, John. Weve got everythingeven perfect little children.”
“Told them, did you? Right. Got it.”
He stormed out, leaving Jane weeping. Just one slipout of boredom, with that visiting engineer. Dad was always away on the road. In films, lorry drivers are rugged and romantic. In real life? Just lonely. Jane had thought, *Well, hes probably not faithful either, out there all those nights.* So shed done something about it.
She jumped up, chasing after him, but he was already gone. A box of marshmallows sat abandoned on the table.
After his next haul, Dad sat me down for a serious talk. He asked me to leave with him.
“Dad, what about Lucy? Mum? Cant you stay?”
It felt like a boulder had been dropped on me. Rocks are made of layersId seen a documentary. The weight on my shoulders was the same: fear of losing Dad, fear of choosing. Either way, Id lose someone. Simple maths decided itLucy + Mum outnumbered Dad. Though honestly, Lucy alone mightve tipped the scales.
Dad met me often after that. Lucy? Like shed been erased. I didnt understand, but I knew: if he could explain, he would. At first, Lucy moped and criedheartbreaking to watch. Then she asked about Dad less and less, retreating into her toys. I never learned why this punishment fell on her, but I could guess. As for Mum
Mum lost it. Started dragging junk in from the binfirst useful bits, then just anything. She stopped caring about us entirely, muttering over her trash like it was treasure. How a pretty woman could turn into *that* in eighteen months, Ill never know. I never told Dad. Neighbour Martha looked after us sometimes. Food came from Dads child support. But the stench soaking our flat? School was brutal.
“Auntie Martha, can you teach me to iron?” I knocked on her door.
“Goodness, Graeme, you need to *wash* first” She wrinkled her nose.
“Wont help. Dads picking me up tomorrow. I cant go like this.”
“He doesnt know about Jane?” she gasped.
“I wont tell him. He leftits not his problem anymore!”
She let me in, then paused. “Bring Lucy too. Ill tidy you both up. Bring your clothes herechange at mine. Least I can do.”
So we did. No more smelling like a tramp at school. But kind-hearted Martha didnt stop there. She tracked Dad down and shamed him. He met me after school.
“Why didnt you say anything?”
“Would it have made you stay?”
“No. But you couldve lived with me.”
“And Lucy?”
Silence. I shook my head and turned toward home.
“Wait! Lucy could stay with Grandma.”
“Grandmas got a new bloke. Shes not interested.”
“Right. Takes after” Dad cut himself off.
He tried Grandma anyway.
“John, have you lost your mind? Im living my second youthwhy would I want kids?”
“But Lucys your granddaughter!”
“Pity.”
“*What?*”
“Pity motherhoods certain, but fatherhoods not. If Id had a son, who knows if his kids would really be mine? But a daughter? Cant deny that. Stillmy life comes first.”
“Yeah. Shouldve taken a closer look at *you* before marrying Jane.”
One morning, Mum was gone. Her hoard remainedshed at least kept mine and Lucys room cleanbut shed vanished. I cracked the window, letting icy air cut through the stink. Fed Lucy, nibbled something myself, then took her to Marthas.
“Mums missing. Ive got school.”
“Missing? In this freeze? Whered she go?”
My reckless, broken mother ended her days on a rubbish heap. Why she froze instead of coming home, no one knows. Martha said social services would take us now.
And they came. The woman eyed our flat and turned to Martha.
“Could we do the paperwork at yours?”
“Of course,” Martha sighed.
“Hold on.” Dads voice rang up the stairs. “Sorryjust back from a haul. Theyre mine.”
“Flat yours too?” the social worker smirked.
Dad didnt even glance inside. “Pack up, Graeme. Were leaving. Well sort this place later.”
“And Lucy?” I whispered, terrified.
“Obviously. Lucy, love, get your things.”
My sister peeled herself from the wall and shuffled toward him.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Is it really you?”
He scooped her up, holding her tight, and exhaled hard.
“Its me. Im here. Its alright.”
“Dont go away again, Daddy!” Lucy wailed.
I froze. *Shell blab everything, and that stern woman will take us, official father or not.* But the social worker had lost interest, gossiping with Martha. And DadDad was crying, Lucy in his arms. Hed tried so hard to resent her, to keep his distance, but love won. Love for ushis children.
“I wont. Im never leaving you again.”
