“Mum, why are you so upset? Daniel said he loves me. We’re getting married,” Emily said calmly, more composed than ever.
“How can I not be upset? You’re pregnant, unmarried, still in college, and I’ve never even met this Daniel! Do you think a child is some kind of toy? He had better show up today, look me in the eye, and promise to take responsibility—do you understand?”
“Stop shouting! I thought you’d be happy about a grandchild. I’ll bring Daniel round—he’ll be back from work soon. I’ve got a key to his student flat. I’d rather wait there—you’re in such a state.” With that, Emily flounced out, her handbag swinging carelessly.
Margaret clutched her chest, sinking onto a stool as she stared at her late husband’s portrait.
“That’s what happens without a father,” she muttered. “Oh, John, why did you leave us so soon? I couldn’t protect our girl. Emily rushed into everything. What if this lad turns his back on her? How will we manage? My wages are meagre, and who’ll hire a pregnant student? She’s still got six months of studies left. What a mess!”
Margaret buried her face in her apron and wept. The weight of hardship had pressed on her since she was young. Her husband died at the timber yard when Emily was just two. They lived on the outskirts of Leeds. Only her closest friend and neighbours knew how she’d struggled. She gave the best portions to her little girl while keeping their home afloat. And now, just as life seemed stable, her own daughter dropped this bombshell.
“Right, best get the pie crust ready—my soon-to-be son-in-law’s coming.” She sighed. “Oh, Emily…”
Once the table was set, Margaret changed into her Sunday dress and picked up her knitting to steady her nerves.
The front door creaked open, and Emily stepped in. Margaret peered behind her—no one.
“Where’s the groom? Left him on the doorstep?”
“Gone,” Emily sniffed. “He’s left me.”
“What do you mean?” Margaret sank onto a chair.
“Just like that! Quit his job, packed up, and vanished. That’s what the halls manager said…”
Emily’s eyes welled up. Being a single mother wasn’t part of her plan.
“What do I do now, Mum?”
Margaret bit back the urge to say, “I told you so.” A mother’s heart isn’t made of stone.
“You have the baby—what else? These things don’t just go away. When’s it due?”
“July, just after my finals.” Emily sighed, resting a hand on her belly.
…Emily gave birth right on time—a girl she named Sophie. And so, the three of them lived together, thick as thieves.
Sophie grew up bright-eyed and cheerful. Margaret doted on her, though Emily remained distant. Sophie, annoyingly, took after that no-good Daniel: the same auburn curls and big green eyes.
“Mum’s home!” At six, Sophie would sprint to the door whenever she spotted Emily through the window, eager for a hug.
“What did you bring me?” She’d cling to her mother’s arm, gazing up hopefully.
“Nothing,” Emily would grumble.
“But why? You promised ice cream yesterday!”
“Give it a rest! I’m tired!” Emily would shake her off and retreat to her room.
Sophie would stand there, tears falling. She’d waited all day for a scrap of warmth, only to be pushed away. Nursery hadn’t helped—they’d drawn their families, and Sophie’s picture of just her, Mum, and Gran made the other children jeer. “You’re dad-less!” they taunted.
Margaret would rush to comfort her, but the hurt cut too deep.
“Where’s my dad? Why is Mum so cross?” Sophie would wail.
Margaret would hold her close. “Not everyone has a dad, love. We’ll manage. More cake for us, eh? Let’s pop to the shop for ice cream.”
The magic word would dry Sophie’s tears.
“And for Mum too?”
“And for Mum.”
Margaret’s household always celebrated Mother’s Day in style—after all, it was a house of women. The table groaned with food, Emily invited friends, and gifts were exchanged. But this year, she brought a man—without warning.
A well-dressed, older gentleman stood at their door.
“Mum, this is Richard. My boss. He’s been promoted—we’re moving to Bristol. We’re getting married.”
“What?” Margaret froze.
“Is he my dad?” Sophie, eavesdropping from her room, darted out, eyes shining.
Richard chuckled. “No, sweetheart. Here—a doll for you.”
Sophie turned away, leaving the doll untouched. Something about him felt wrong.
The evening dragged. Richard made no effort to charm them, while Emily fawned over him, snapping at Sophie.
“Sit properly! What will Uncle Richard think? Stop fidgeting!”
Margaret stayed quiet, uneasy. Richard relished his superiority, barely hiding his condescension. Sophie barely ate, watching her mother nervously.
“My division’s outperformed all targets. So congratulate me—soon-to-be regional director. Pity it’s a two-hour flight away. Emily’s coming. We’ve a lovely detached house waiting.”
“Will I move too? Are there good schools?” Sophie asked.
Richard silenced her with a glance. Emily quickly changed the subject.
“Mum, how’s work? Maybe retire—you deserve a rest.”
“It’s years till my pension. How would we live?”
“Richard and I will support you. You’ll want for nothing.”
“Why?” Margaret frowned.
“Sophie, go play with your doll,” Richard ordered.
Sophie looked to Margaret, who nodded. She left the doll by the door.
“Mum, here’s the thing,” Emily began. “We… don’t want to take Sophie just yet. Once we’re settled—”
“What’s to settle? You’ll have space!”
“It’s inconvenient with a child,” Richard cut in. “We’ll pay you to mind her.”
“She has a name,” Margaret said icily. “So that’s it—you’d pay to abandon your own?”
“Mum, it’s temporary!” Emily simpered. “It’s awkward starting a new marriage with a child.”
“‘Temporary’ often becomes permanent. Go where you like. Sophie stays with me.”
Richard strode out, head high. Emily lingered, placating.
“Don’t you want me happy? A decent man at last, and you’re against it! I’ll fetch Sophie in six months.”
“Do as you please,” Margaret waved her off. “But I won’t let you hurt that girl. I’ll say you’re away on business. She already grieves having no dad—now her mum deserts her for a man.”
“I’m not deserting her!”
“Aren’t you?”
Silent, Emily avoided her mother’s eyes and left without a goodbye.
A week later, she packed. Sophie hovered, pleading:
“Mum, wear your scarf—it’s chilly. Don’t forget your gloves!”
Emily laughed. “It’s warm down south—no need for all that.”
Margaret watched, heart heavy, as Sophie clung to her mother, offering advice.
“Take Teddy. He’s my favourite—I’ll share him.”
Emily tossed the bear into her suitcase impatiently. Sophie tucked him in with a jumper, whispering, “Don’t be sad, Teddy. Mum’s just upset to leave me. Look after her, okay?”
Margaret dashed out, muffling sobs in a towel. Rage at her daughter, pity for Sophie—it choked her.
“Taxi’s here! No need to see me off,” Emily chirped.
“Mum!” Sophie lunged, arms tight. “Don’t go!”
“Get off—I’ll miss my flight! Mum, take her!”
Margaret scooped up the sobbing child.
Two minutes later, Emily was gone.
Years passed. No word. Just occasional money transfers, rare calls—never a visit. Margaret worked as before, stashing Emily’s money for Sophie’s education.
At graduation, Sophie stood with Margaret while her peers celebrated with both parents.
“Proud of you, love,” Margaret said. “Shame your mother isn’t here. Sorry I raised her so poorly.”
“Gran, don’t.” Sophie kissed her silver hair. “You’re my family. I won’t leave you. I’ve known for ages she abandoned me. I’ve made peace with it. You should too.”
…Sophie aced university, Margaret cheering her on.
When Richard and Emily reappeared—polished and entitled—neither Sophie nor Margaret flinched. Strangers deserved no warmth.
Turned out Richard was infertile. Now he wanted Sophie as his heir. Emily was his bargaining chip.
“Darling, we’ve come for you,” Emily forced a smile. “Pack your things—flight’s tonight. Remember yourSophie gently placed Teddy in his old spot on her bed, looked her mother in the eye, and said, “You chose your life—now let me live mine.”
