After I spoke with the adopted girl, I realised that not everything was as straightforward as it seemed.
Next to me on a weathered wooden bench sat a little girl of five, legs swinging back and forth as she chatted away about her world:
Ive never met my dad. He left Mum and me when I was ever so little. Mum died last year. The grown-ups told me shed passed away.
She looked up at me with wide, solemn eyes and carried on:
After the funeral, my Aunt MargaretMums sistercame to stay with us. They told me shed done a wonderful thing by not sending me to a childrens home. I was told that Aunt Margaret was now my guardian, and Im to live with her from now on.
The girl trailed off, gaze fixed beneath her feet, then continued:
When I moved in, Aunt Margaret started tidying up our house. She put all my mums things in a corner and wanted to throw them away. I cried and begged her not to. In the end, she let me keep them. Now, thats where I sleepin that corner. At night, I curl up right on top of Mums clothes, and it feels warm, almost like shes close by.
Every morning, Aunt Margaret gives me something to eat. Shes not the best cookMum was much betterbut Aunt Margaret always asks me to finish my food. I dont want to upset her, so I eat everything she gives me. I know she tries hard when she cooks. Its not her fault she cant cook like Mum. Afterwards, she sends me off for a walk, and I cant go back home until it starts getting dark. Aunt Margaret is ever so nice to me!
She loves to boast to her friends about me. I dont really know these aunties, but they visit often. They all have tea together, tell funny stories, say lovely things about me and spoil us both with biscuits and sweets.
The girl gave a little sigh and went on:
I cant just eat sweets all the time, though. Aunt Margaret has never scolded me, not once. Shes always polite. One time, she even gave me a doll, although the doll was a bit poorlyits leg was broken and its got a wonky eye that always blinks wrong. Mum never gave me a doll that was broken.
Suddenly, the child hopped off the bench and began skipping on one foot:
Ive got to dash! Aunt Margaret said her friends are coming round today, and I need to dress nicely before they arrive. She promised me a delicious slice of cake after. Goodbye!
She sped off down the path to do her errands, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sat for a long while, turning everything over in my mindespecially about kind Aunt Margaret. I couldnt help but wonder, what purpose does such goodness serve if its only for show? Why does she need the world to see her as noble? How could anyone watch a child sleep on hard floor, wrapped in her late mothers clothes, and feel nothing at all?
