Neither one nor the other. Im not flying off somewhere with your daughter! I cant keep pretending Im alright with it.
Im sick of this big happy family that exists only on my patience.
And what do you suggest? my husband narrowed his eyes. A divorce? Over a holiday? Youre serious?
Not over a holiday, George. Over the fact that you never hear me. And you never will.
To you, Poppy is sacred. As for me and Jack, were just left on the sidelines.
On Sunday, Sarah, as usual, slipped into the stepdaughters room with a bucket and a mop the place was a total disaster again.
She hadnt set foot in that room since Poppy left.
Sarah opened the cupboard and the cloth flapped onto the table.
Princess, she hissed, glancing at a poster of some Korean band on the wall. How can a little girl be so untidy?!
Go pack up after yourself!
Three years ago Sarah fell in love with George and moved in with him, bringing her elevenyearold son, Jack.
For thirtysix months the war between her and her stepdaughter raged. They despised each other, yet both hid their true feelings from the father and husband.
Sarah spent nearly two hours tidying Poppys room, then stepped into the hallway and pushed open the door to the tiniest little room narrow, long, like a school pencil case.
The window faced north, so it was always gloomy, even in daylight.
A foldout sofa filled the space because a proper double bed wouldnt fit.
Jack never complained. He was a quiet lad, happy with whatever was provided, and that annoyed Sarah doubly.
She didnt have to deepclean Jacks room; a quick dustoff and a swipe of the floor was enough the boy kept it tidy enough on his own.
Mum, why are you stuck in there? Jacks voice drifted from the kitchen. The kettles whistling.
Sarah exhaled, wiped the hallway floor, flushed the filthy water down the loo and went to make tea.
George was hunched over his laptop at the table.
Have a seat, Sarah, he said without looking up. Im checking options. Spain or Greece?
Greece must be breezy now.
Sarah poured herself a coffee. Jack finished his tea, thanked her and bolted from the table.
Sarah decided it was time.
George, we need to talk.
He finally tore his eyes away from the screen.
Whats with the tone? Whats happened? Did Jack get another bad grade?
No, it isnt about Jack. Its about the holiday.
Go on. Ive been looking at hotels. Theres a lovely fivestar resort in Brighton with a massive waterpark. Poppy would love it, and Jack too.
Just hearing Poppys name made Sarahs throat tighten.
George, her voice trembled. I was thinking maybe this time we could go on a break just the two of us?
George frowned, puzzled.
What do you mean? Whose trip are we taking? No one asked the neighbours.
I mean without Poppy. Just you, me and Jack.
A heavy silence lingered. George slowly closed his laptop.
Sarah, Poppys school break is coming up. Shes expecting this trip. We always travel together its a tradition.
And what does our own family even mean? Isnt my daughter part of the family?
Traditions can change if we want. Weve been married three years and have never taken a holiday with just the three of us. Shes always with us!
Im exhausted, George. I just want a holiday with my own family, without worrying about what your daughter feels, what mood shes in, or which seat she gets.
Georges tone grew sharper.
Poppy is part of my family. You knew that when you married me.
I knew! But I didnt expect her to be everywhere! She lives in another city, has a mother, a school, friends.
Why does every vacation have to revolve around her?
Because Im her father. I barely see her. A holiday is the only time we can actually talk.
And me? Sarah snapped. And Jack? Are we just props for your fatherdaughter bonding? Servants?
Jacks room is half the size of hers, even though he lives here fulltime!
Again with the room, George grimaced. Weve already covered that. This was my childhood home, the room was mine, then hers.
So my son gets no personal space?!
George sighed, stood and walked over to his wife.
Fine. Calm down. I hear you. Youre worn out, works a mess, nerves frayed You want a holiday just for us then its yours.
Sarah froze. Was he really conceding?
Are you serious?
If its that hard for you, why not try it once. No Poppy.
Sarah turned, pressed her cheek to his chest and hid a relieved smile. Small victory, but a victory.
The whole next day Sarah floated on air. At work the reports fell into place, the irritable head accountant seemed oddly pleasant, and the drizzle outside felt like a gentle spring rain.
In the evening, while she was cooking, her phone buzzed a message from George.
Check the options. I like the second one, it has a great spa.
Three links followed.
Sarah wiped her hands on a dish towel, unlocked the phone and tapped the first link.
Each site bore a bright Adults only badge.
At first she thought it a mistake, then realised those hotels simply didnt take children adults only.
She reread Georges text. Maybe hed typed the wrong thing?
She called him. He answered instantly, a car engine humming in the background he was driving home.
So? Did you look? he asked, sounding pleased. The second ones the best, right? Theyve got a topnotch steak house.
George Sarah lowered herself onto a stool. Why are these places 18+?
What do you mean? Yesterday you said, I want my own family, Im tired of the kids.
I thought, why not just the two of us? A honeymoon we missed.
Jack will stay with his grandma, Poppy will be with her mother. Well finally get a proper rest.
George, you dont get it, she said slowly. I didnt want a holiday without children at all. I wanted it without Poppy.
He paused.
Without Poppy? And we take Jack?
Of course! Where else would I put him? Mums health is fragile; she cant handle a twoweek stint with him.
Hes also been looking forward to the sea; he only learned to swim last year…
Hold on. Lets break it down. You said our own family.
I naïvely thought you meant romance. Turns out you just want to leave my daughter out of our trip?
Not leave her out! Sarah jumped, pacing the cramped kitchen. Just once, the three of us: me, you and Jack.
Whats so criminal about that? We live together! Were a separate family, George!
And Poppy?
She lives elsewhere! George, understand, it hurts! Jack is always a supporting act. I want him to feel he matters, that the break is for him, not for her!
So heres the deal, George cut in. Listen carefully. Ill never sort children into classes.
First class your Jack, because he lives here. Second class my Poppy, because shell manage.
I dont sort!
You do. Youre asking me to take your son and tell my daughter:
Sorry love, you dont fit our perfect picture, stay home.
Can you imagine how that looks? How would I explain it?
Aunt Sarah doesnt want to see you?
Why so harsh? We could say there were no slots, money was tight
I wont lie to her. And Im not going to be a scoundrel.
George fell silent, then continued.
Bottom line. Either we all go together you, me, Jack and Poppy as usual. Or just the two of us, no kids at all.
A third option, where one child suns itself while the other trudges through a dusty town, wont happen. Never.
But George
Enough. Im heading out. Conversations over.
He hung up, and Sarah flung the phone onto the table. It slid across the wood and knocked into the bread box.
It was infuriating. If they went off alone, Jack would stay in this stifling town with his grandma, feeding him porridge with lumps and forcing him to read classic literature aloud.
If they all went together again. Poppy would snag the best seat in the car, get the first icecream, and George would be fussing over her:
Dont burn yourself, love, Want some water?
Meanwhile Jack would be stuck in the back like a tail.
George returned, they ate in silence. The holiday topic resurfaced on his own.
So, should I book the one with the waterpark? he said, opening his laptop. For four people. Two rooms, kids together, us together.
George, Sarah called softly.
What?
Dont book it.
He froze, lifted his eyes slowly.
What do you mean, dont book? Is this happening again?
Sarah, I told you: either all or none
I heard your ultimatum, she interrupted. You said: either with both kids, or just the two of us.
So?
Im filing for divorce
Dont be ridiculous. Have you lost your mind? I love Jack, I love you, I
Love, Sarah nodded. Like a comfy sofa. But if the sofa no longer fits the room where your daughters piano sits, youll toss it out!
Sarah, stop this hysteria! I dont understand whats starting!
She walked to the window, stared silent for a few minutes, then said,
You know, I probably will file for divorce.
George snorted and slammed his laptop shut with a loud bang.
Fine. Go ahead. Let petty jealousy ruin the family. Very grownup.
Who will you need then? A child in a rented flat? Think with your head, not just your heart!
I think, Sarah replied without turning. I think about living in a onebedroom flat thats still ours.
That my son sleeps on a proper bed, not in dads cramped attic.
And that we stop constantly competing with a girl for space that rightfully belongs to us.
Well manage, George
The floorboards creaked in the hallway probably Jack overheard.
Sure, Sarah was fed up with the idea of a divorce: the debt, the loneliness, the son suddenly without a father. But she could no longer put up with the state of things. How long could she endure?
Well talk tomorrow, George said, getting up. Im off to bed. You think it over, alright? Youre driving me mad.
He left, the bedroom door closing softly, while Sarah remained in the kitchen. Poppy would be back in a week, dumping her things in the living room, laughing loudly, cutting everyone off at the table, and George would look at her with a devotion Sarah never received.
No, she whispered. I cant do this any longer.
She opened her banking app, checked her balance not much saved, but enough for a deposit on a flat and the first months rent.
She slipped out of the room and headed to the bedroom. Tomorrow would be a hard day packing, talking to Jack, house hunting.
She needed a proper break.
Despite Georges weak protests, Sarah eventually filed for divorce.
Shed hoped George would see his mistake, that hed give up his older daughter, but nothing changed.
Soon after the papers were signed, Sarah and Jack became strangers to George. He stopped calling, stopped texting, stopped visiting.
Sometimes Sarah wondered if shed been too hasty. Maybe she should have held on. With her own hands shed shattered what could have been happiness.
