Father Decided to Remarry
Alices mother had passed away five years ago. Shed only been forty-eight then, her heart quietly stopping as she watered the violets on the kitchen windowsill. Her father was fifty-five at the time.
He hadnt wept, hadnt shouted. Hed simply sat in his wifes armchair and gazed at her portrait on the mantel. He looked at it as if sheer willpower might bring her back.
That day, Alice lost not just her mother, but her father too, in a way. He remained in the flat with her, but was more like a physical echo, a ghost sewn in a cocoon of sorrow.
The first year was thick and heavy. At twenty-three, Alice found herself being both daughter and carer, sometimes even a makeshift therapist. She cooked shepherds pie he barely touched, ironed his shirts he left to hang untouched, and she talked, talked, talked, as if her words could drag him out of the darkness where he seemed lost.
But her father stayed silent. Sometimes a short answer, never more. Each word from him was like a slap, as if to say Dont meddle! Dont touch! Leave me be!
Between them grew a dense, colourless, opaque wall
***
Time drifted by. They lived parallel lives.
In the morning, theyd nod to each other in the kitchen before heading separate ways. In the evening, another silent encounter over a cup of tea or toast before retreating to their own rooms. Conversationalmost none. Interactionnil.
After a while, Alice stopped pestering her father with her concern. He was thankful, she could tell. Each on their own, they slowly grew used to this new normal.
No wife… No mum…
***
After some time, her father began returning to himself.
He smiled at the neighbour, Mrs. Finch, who often treated them to her homemade scones. He started fishing trips with an old friend from the cricket club. He rediscovered his laptop and would chuckle at classic British comedies late into the night.
Alice no longer saw the same slumped figure of despair and believed the worst had passed. She even dared accept a summer job in Brighton at a seaside wellness centre, leaving him to his own devices.
When she returned, a surprise sat waiting for her.
***
Her father announced he was getting remarried.
He said it right as Alice dropped her suitcase by the hall, his voice steady, as if he’d rehearsed it: Ive met someone. Her names Margaret. Were getting married.
Alice felt a strange chill, not because hed found someoneshe wanted him happy, honestlybut a silent, red button flashed in her mind: The flat!
Their flat! The one shed grown up in! Her mothers sewing machine still in the corner, her favourite mug still tucked in the cupboard! And now, this foreign mug, left unwashed by some stranger, sitting ugly on the table!
Alice stared at the offending cup with undisguised contempt
Dad, she began, struggling for words, isnt this all a bit sudden? Do you really know her well? And… where do you plan on living? Surely not here? This isnt just your flat. Its its Mums too
Her father slowly lifted his eyes. They were heavy with weariness and a deep, frosty scorn.
Ah, he said quietly, there it is. How quick you are. Im not even gone yet, and already youre carving up the spoils.
Im not! I just want clarity! Alice snapped, flushed. Its only logical! Youll have a new familywhat about me? What if something happens?
Then youll have to figure it out, he muttered, heading for his room.
***
A few days later, he brought Margaret round. Tall, slim, with sad perceptive eyes and refined mannersalmost syrupy polite.
Alice, I do understand your feelings, Margaret said. Truly, Im not after anything. I have my own life, my own place. I just love your father.
She was eager to be friendly, but her questions!
Is your cottage far outside town? Margaret inquired, with a coy curiosity. How long have you had this place? These post-war terraces are so sought-after, arent they?
Whats more, Margaret insisted it was improper to debate inheritances beforehand, saying such talk only wounded her father and left him feeling dispensable.
That visit only deepened Alices misgivings. She felt certain Margaret was sly and calculating, so the fragile thread with her father snapped. Alice saw in him an irritable old man, blinded by late-blooming infatuation, ready to give everything to a stranger. He saw, perhaps, only a greedy, suspicious daughter, unconcerned about his happiness.
Every talk turned to bickering. He insisted on his right to his own life; Alice defended her right to a safe future. They jabbed at each other, not realising they hurt only themselves.
***
At last, Alice couldnt bear it. She proposed they visit a solicitor to settle the question of the property once and for all.
Her father refused for days, then sighed and agreed.
All right, he said in a dull voice, well do it your way.
They walked to the solicitors office in silence. Alice fiddled nervously with her handbag, bracing herself for battle.
Inside, it was hushed. Her father sat apart, hands folded in his lap. His face was unreadable.
The solicitor, an austere woman with a shock of silver hair, clicked open a folder.
So, were here today to she began in her crisp tone.
Wait, her father interrupted, soft but steely. Alice flinched.
He handed the solicitor a document.
Here it is.
She put on her spectacles, scanning the paper before she looked up, surprised: Are you sure? This is a deed of gift. Youre transferring all your property to your daughterentirely? No compensation?
Alices breath caught. What? Handing it all over? Just like that? Was this a trap? Would he later say she had forced his hand?
Alice peered into his eyes, searching for clues, for a trickbut what she saw drained her. There was no anger, no resentment. Only boundless disappointment and pity. Pity for her. For Alice.
There, he said quietly, rising to leave the signed paper before her. Take it. Everything you wanted. The flat, the cottage. Its all yours. Now you wont have to worry about me, some old codger, squandering your precious property for some imaginary happiness.
He said happiness with such acidic scorn that she winced.
Dad I I never meant she stammered, feeling tears of humiliation on her cheeks.
Never meant? His bitter smile cut deeper than any shout. Alice, in the last six months, not once have you asked how my health is. Not once if Im warm enough, if I need medicine. Every question has been about documents. About square footage. You havent seen me as your fatherjust an obstacle between you and your inheritance. You think I didnt notice?
He stepped to the door and glanced back.
You dreamed of this cage? Then take it. Its yours.
He walked out. Alice sat motionless, clutching the cold legal paper. Shed won! She had it all! And suddenly realised shed lost everything.
***
Years went by.
Her father and Margaret are still together. Sometimes Alice glimpses them in the local Waitrose, or strolling through the park, fingers always entwined. Hes grown older, but when he looks at Margaret, his eyes glow with quiet joy.
Alice lives alone.
In a bright, three-bedroom flat, smartly decorated with new furniture.
She spends weekends at the cottage, where everything is tidied and fine.
Yet happiness has managed to wander off somewhere and lose its way
Alice knows now: her father had left her the flat not from anger, not spite, but because it was what shed chosen. Walls instead of a person; parchments instead of love.
Shed traded her own father for three rooms and a cottage. And this knowledge was by far the heaviest inheritance of all.
