A sleek motorcar pulled up outside a cosy little florists shop, one that had recently opened its doors in the town and swiftly become the talk of the neighbourhood. Even folk from the next county over would make the journey for its exquisite bouquets.
“Could you pick out the finest, grandest bouquet you have?” the young man beamed at the pretty florist. “Ive just had a son!”
On the way to the hospital, George pictured the moment hed cradle his newborn boy for the first time, determined to be the father he himself had never known. Memories of his own dad weighed heavythe only bright one being that of a tall, broad-shouldered man lifting him high into the air, stirring both terror and delight in his tiny heart. But soon after, Edward Whitmore abandoned his family, leaving his wife and ten-year-old son without so much as a roof over their heads.
It had all begun when his mothers friend, Veronica, started appearing often at their home. She worked at the hospital and would sometimes turn up for supper with a bottle of medicinal spirits, brushing off his mothers weak protests.
“Dont fuss now! Whats the harm? Its for the appetite,” shed say, flashing a smile whenever Georges mother frowned. “Youve such a wonderful husbandought to cherish him properly.”
One evening, Veronica invited them all to her birthday celebration. She lived clear across town with her two daughters. The whole night, she hovered near Edward, refilling his glass and lavishing him with attention.
And then, one day, young George returned from football practice to hear his parents arguing in the kitchen.
“Im leaving. And yes, I love Veronica. Theres nothing left between usno love, no respect. But with her, its real. She appreciates me, unlike you,” his father declared.
“Its not you she appreciates, you foolits your money,” his mother shot back.
“Knew youd say that. Always the drama. Oh, and well have to sell the house, split the money.”
“What? Have you no shame? My parents gave us that flat as a wedding gift!”
“Preciselyto *us*, not just you. Its joint property.”
“And what of our son? Wheres he to live, to sleep, to eat?!”
“Have you thought where *Im* to live with my love and her two schoolgirls in a one-bedroom flat? Besides, I only want whats fair…”
For two years, George and his mother lodged with her parents before scraping together enough for a mortgage. Years later, after George finished university and married, his stepfather transferred the flat into his name.
“Ill love my son and never betray himnor Emily,” George vowed as he drove home from the hospital. There was much to prepare: baby clothes, furniture, a nursery. Theyd held off buying things earlier, respecting Emilys superstitions.
Nearing his house, George spotted a balding stranger lingering outside. Something about the man tugged at his memory.
“George, hello, son! Dont you recognise me?”
“Father?”
“The very same! Saw you step out of that fine motor of yours. Lovely car, by the way.”
“Excuse me, Im in a hurry.” George clenched his fists, sidestepping him.
“Excuse me? No need for formalitieswere family. Fancy a quick chat? Man to man?”
On any other day, George wouldnt have spared him a second. But today, his heart was light. Without a word, he strode toward the door. Edward took silence as assent and followed.
“Fine home youve got here! Spacious,” the older man remarked, glancing around. “Youve done well for yourself. More than able to lend a hand to kin, Id wager.”
“What are you on about?”
“Dont play daft. First, youve spare rooms. Second, clearly youve means. And your own fathers in a spot of trouble.”
“I fail to see what my circumstances have to do with you. Twenty years vanishedwere strangers. What dyou want?”
“Ive had a rowa proper scrapwith Veronicas son-in-law. Called me a freeloader! *Me!* When I worked the factory, kept her and her girls comfortable, I was golden. But retired? Turned out like a stray. Theyve kicked me out, left me with debts *she* took in my name. Im in dire straits, son. Only fair you help”
“Fair? How?”
“Veronica and I never wed. Legally, shes nothing to menor her daughters. But *youre* my flesh and blood. Your mums my only lawful wife. If not for her remarrying, Idve gone to her. Were not strangersraised you together.”
“So you think youve rights, after nicking half the money from Mums flat and vanishing? Not a penny in child support, *Dad*,” George spat.
“That money went to Veronicas place and holidays. Nothing wrong with a break. Mistake was those loans for her daughters weddings and honeymoons. But youll understand, son. Youll help. Its not right, what theyve done”
“A *break*? Mum worked seven days a week. I took odd jobs from thirteenhanding out leaflets, then scrubbing cars. We scraped for *years*.”
“Youre a proper man. Surely wont abandon your father now.”
“I lost my father at ten.”
“Point is, Im here now. Better late than never. Well make up for lost time.”
“How?”
“I could stay a spell. In your spare room. Family sticks together.”
“That rooms for the baby. Whoever gave you my address shouldve mentioned Ive a son now. Today, in fact. And I mean to be the father he deserves. Now kindly leaveIve furniture to fetch, things to do.” He gestured firmly to the door.
Outside, Edward called after him.
“Georgethat motors grand. Maybe trade it for something simpler? Give me the difference, settle my debts. Do right by your old man…”
“Youre no father of mine. I needed one as a boynow Ive no need of you. And if I see you again, I shant be responsible for my temper.”
George marched to his car without a backward glance. Not an ounce of pity stirred in him. He knew hed chosen rightlyfor his son, whod never taste the bitterness hed known.
