I was standing there thinking we were mates, and you’d just run off with my husband.
You dont get it, you just wont understand! Poppy shouted, slamming her sketchbook shut. To you its all just doodles, kid stuff!
Poppy, thats not what I meant, Megan said wearily, pressing her palms to her temples. The migraine that had been thudding since breakfast was now a fullblown hammer in the back of her head. Im just saying a design career is a rollercoaster. One day youve got gigs, the next youre emptyhanded. Accounting is a safe loaf of bread, always there.
My loaf of bread! Not mine! Poppy leapt from her chair, eyes flashing. I dont want to spend my whole life crunching numbers like you. I want to create, make things beautiful! Aunt Sam gets me, shes the only one who believes in my talent.
The mention of Sam made Megans chest tighten. Samher best friend, her rock through the darkest yearshad lately become more of a role model for her daughter than she was.
Sam lives in a different world, love. She runs her own highend salon and can afford to talk about lofty things. You and I are living paycheck to paycheck.
Exactly! Poppy cried, grabbing her jacket and bolting for the door. I cant live like that!
The front door slammed, and a ringing silence settled over the tiny twobed flat in East London. Megan collapsed into a chair, cradling her head. Every fight drained the last of her energy. At fortyfive, the past ten years had been her alone. Since Ianher husband and Poppys dadwalked out, leaving a mountain of unpaid bills and a vague, Sorry, weve grown apart, her life turned into a nonstop survival sprint. She worked at the local library, took odd night jobs retyping manuscripts, and gave up everything just so Poppy would have what she needed.
All the while Sam was there. Theyd been classmates, sharing a desk, Sam the bright, confident one, Megan the quiet, homebody type. When the divorce hit, Sam was the one who pulled Megan out of the abyss, delivering groceries, taking her for walks, listening for hours to her tears. Well get through this, love, shed say, hugging her tight. Hell bite his elbows when he sees what hes lost.
And Megan clung to that. She pushed herself forward for her daughters sake. Sam became almost family, a godmothertype to Poppy, the Aunt Sam who always understood.
Megan sighed and walked to the window. The city lights twinkled. Somewhere out there, her angry daughter was probably roaming the streets, maybe heading to Sams cozy studio in central London, where the air smells of premium coffee and haircare products, soft music plays, and they can talk about high art without worrying about the water bill.
The kitchen phone buzzed. A text from Sam: Poppys with me. Dont worry, Ill talk to her. Everythingll be fine. A mix of irritation and gratitude rose in Megan. Part of her was relieved Poppy was safe, part of her annoyed that Sam kept stepping in as the peacekeeper, as if Megan couldnt handle her own kid.
She poured herself a cheap tea bag, sat down, and stared at an old framed photo of the three of themher, Ian, and a baby Poppy in her arms. Young, happy. Ian sometimes she could barely picture his face: tall, darkhaired, cheeky crinkles around his eyes. He loved jazz, strong coffee, travel books. He left one night, said he needed time alone, and a week later called to say he wasnt coming back.
Sams voice floated back in her memory, soothing: Hes a fool, Megan, just a fool. Youll find someone else. But Megan never did. Her whole world revolved around her daughter.
The next few days were tense and quiet. Poppy came home from school, ate, then locked herself in her room. Megan didnt dare start a conversation, fearing another blowup. On Saturday morning Sam called.
Hey, Meg, Ive got a crisishealthandsafety inspections coming, my cleaners sick. Can you pop over, help tidy up? Ill owe you one. And maybe you can patch things up with Poppy, she was planning to swing by.
Megan hesitated, feeling guilty but also seeing a chance to talk to Poppy on neutral ground. Alright, Ill be there in an hour.
Sams boutique, Cleopatra, welcomed her with mirrored walls and a swirl of floral perfume. Sam, ever immaculate in a sleek trouserssuit, greeted her at the door.
Meg, my saviour! she beamed, tapping Megans cheek. Just change into something comfyquick dusting, mop the main hall, Ill sort the paperwork. Poppyll be here soon.
Megan slipped into a faded tee in the backroom, started sweeping. She didnt envy Sams success; Sam had earned everything with grit. Yet being surrounded by luxury made Megans own insecurity sharper than ever.
She was nearly done when Poppy walked in, eyes rolling at the sight of her mother with a mop.
Megan, we need to talk, she said quietly.
About what? Me giving up my dream to go to some boring college?
No. About us.
Sam popped out of her office, two phones in handher own and a clients left charging.
Ladies, dont fight! Megan, dont be hard on hershes just a kid with big ambitions. Poppy, mum only wants the best for you. How about a cuppa? Ill make your favourite, with a pinch of cinnamon.
She set the phones on the admin desk and disappeared. Megan sighed; it felt like nothing would ever work. Poppy buried herself in her phone. Megan glanced at the phones, and one screen lit up with a short message from I.: Miss your coffee and you. <3 Megans heart skipped. I. Ian? No, that seemed impossible. Sam had mentioned a new flinga divorced, complicated guybut not Ian. She shook it off. The conversation never happened that day. They sipped coffee while Sam chattered about the latest hair trends, Poppy nodding, Megan silent, feeling a wall rise between her and the people she loved. The mysterious text kept looping in her mind. Later, Megan found an old notebook, dug out Ians number, and almost dialed. What would she even say? Hey, its me. How are you? Foolish, she thought, and put the phone down. A few days later Sam invited them to the cinema. In the dim hall, a romcom played while Megan kept stealing glances at Sams phone, spotting the same I. initial in the recipient line. After the film they went to a café. Oh, Meg, Im thrilled! Sam exclaimed, stirring sugar into her tea. I think Im really falling in love. Hes solid, clevermakes me feel like Im behind a stone wall. Were happy for you, Aunt Sam, Poppy said, eyes bright. Who is he? Do we know him? Just a bloke I met by chance. Hes back in town after years up north. North Ian had taken a roving job up in Sheffield after the split, Megan remembered hearing about it. Too many coincidences, she thought, a cold shiver running down her spine. Whats his name? she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. Ian, Sam replied, then quickly changed the subject. By the way, Poppy, theres a prestigious art school announcing prep courses. Want to apply? I can cover the fees. Megans mind raced. Ian. Her best friend, whod wiped her tears after the divorce, now dating her exhusband? The picture shed drawn of Sam suddenly turned into a grotesque sketch. Mom, whats wrong? Poppys voice snapped her out of the trance. You look pale. Nothing, Megan muttered, head thudding. Lets go home. At home she locked herself in the bathroom, turned the tap on, letting the water drown her sobs. The tears werent just about Ianthey were about betrayal, about a friend whod become a traitor, about years of naïve faith in someone whod been playing both sides. She needed to act, but not with a scandal or accusationthat would be too easy and humiliating. She decided to wait for solid proof. A week later Sams birthday came, set in a countryside restaurant, and she invited Megan and Poppy. Definitely come, Meg! Ill introduce you to my Ian. Youll love him! Megan felt the air tighten. Alright, well be there. She spent the day in a fog, picking out a dress, doing her hair, applying makeup. Looking in the mirror she saw a stranger with feverish eyes. Poppy, oblivious, buzzed around, excited for the party. The restaurant was elegantlive music, whitecloth tables, welldressed guests. Sam, in a silver gown, flitted between people. Spotting them, she rushed over. Finally! Come in, darlings! Meg, you look stunning! Let me introduce you Ian! He walked over, older now, silver at the temples, but unmistakably Ian. He froze when he saw Megan, a mix of surprise, shame, and fear flashing across his face. Megan? he whispered. Hello, she said, eyes locked on his. Sam looked bewildered, switching glances between them. You you know each other? More than you think, Megan replied, a thin smile curving. Hes my exhusband. Poppys father. The room fell silent. The music seemed to stop. All eyes were on the three of them. Sams face went ashen. Poppy stared between her mother, her father, and her beloved Aunt Sam, confusion written all over her. Mom, is this true? Poppy whispered. Yes, love. Hes your dad. Megan stepped toward Sam, who clutched Ians arm as if afraid hed vanish. Happy birthday, Sam, Megan said quietly, but firmly. I thought we were friends. Turns out youve been consoling me while stealing what I lost. How does that feel, dating my ex and giving me advice on betrayal? Sam stammered, I didnt know how It just happened We met half a year ago, he never told me What? Hes my exs husband? Megan snapped. You knew everything. She turned to Ian. Youre nothing but a coward. You left one, ran to another. Nothing changes. She grabbed Poppys hand. The girls eyes widened, brimming with tears. Lets get out of here, love. This isnt our place. They walked out, guests watching in disbelief. At the door, Sam stood alone, Ian looked down, unable to meet their gaze. The ride home was quiet. In the flat Poppy broke down. Mum, how could Aunt Sam? And dad? Megan hugged her tightly, smoothing her hair. Shh, love, its okay. People sometimes do terrible things, even those we love. The important thing is we have each other. That night they stayed up in the kitchen, talking openly about Megans past with Ian, her friendship with Samnothing hidden. Poppys hurt turned into a mature understanding. The next day Sam stopped calling. Megan ignored the flood of apologies and pleas. A few weeks later Ian showed up at the door. Megan, we need to talk, he said, eyes downcast. We have nothing to talk about, she said, slamming the door. Leave. And never come back. She leaned against the door, heart poundingnot from pain, but from relief. It felt like a massive weight finally lifted. Life moved on, though it was hard. The void left by Sam was hard to fill, and sometimes shed reach for the phone to call a friend, only to remember she was alone. Her relationship with Poppy changed for the better. They grew closer than ever. Poppy matured overnight, stopped demanding the impossible, started helping around the house, and even picked up a side gigselling portrait sketches online. One evening Poppy placed a small envelope on the kitchen table. Here, Mum. Money for the prep course. I earned it myself. Megan looked at her daughters serious, grownup face, tears welling. Youre my pride, she whispered. No, Mum, youre my pride, Poppy replied, pulling her into a tight hug. Youre the strongest. Megan held her daughter, realizing she hadnt lost everything. Shed lost a friend and a fantasy, but shed gained something far more valuableher daughters respect and love. The road ahead would be tough, honest, and demanding, but together theyd manage, just the two of them.
