“Don’t flap your gums, Lizzie. The important thing is to marry well. No matter what, you’ll come out on top,” her aunt would say.
Lizzie grew up an only child, doted on by her parents. By the time she finished school, she kept insisting she wanted to study in London.
“Love, we’ve got a good university here. Why go to London?” her father asked.
“Dad, I want to be a journalist. If I stay here, I’ll just end up a teacher.”
Her parents resisted letting her go for ages. They’d seen enough films about provincial girls whose lives fell apart in the capital. Eventually, though, they relented. Her father reached out to a distant cousin in London, who agreed to take Lizzie in while she studied. Lizzie was over the moon. She promised her parents she’d make them proud.
Her father drove her down himself, made sure she was settled, left her some money, and went home.
Lizzie didn’t stay with her cousin for free. She cleaned, shopped, and cooked. Neighbours whispered—how shameless, turning family into hired help. The cousin, a divorcee who kept her flat, thought herself a success. Living in London, no less. She had plenty of advice for Lizzie:
“Don’t flap your gums, love. Studying’s well and good, but it’s not what matters for a woman. Marry a Londoner—that’s the ticket. You’ll always come out on top. Just look at me.”
Lizzie listened with a patient smile. Marriage wasn’t her priority. She dreamed of being noticed, of landing a job at a prestigious paper—maybe even telly, if luck was on her side.
But life had other plans. In her third year, she fell for Edward. They met by chance at a pub, celebrating the end of exams. He spotted her, asked her to dance, then walked her home.
Her friends urged her not to let him slip away—eight years older, a Londoner, handsome, with his own flat. Edward was upfront about his divorce and his daughter. “We all make mistakes when we’re young,” he said. The girl lived with her mum—no bother. Besides, it proved he was good with kids.
Lizzie didn’t overthink it, but she liked him. He took things slow, never pushed. They went to galleries, the theatre, concerts. In all her time in London, she’d never known it like this.
He started talking about love, the future, their future children. Her head spun. When he finally proposed, she said yes without hesitation. Only one year left of uni—then real life would begin.
Edward took her to meet his parents. His father smiled behind his newspaper. His mother made it clear Lizzie wasn’t her idea of a match. “Couldn’t you find someone from here? You’re making the same mistake again,” she snapped.
“Enough, Mum. Sophie was a Londoner—didn’t stop us divorcing,” Edward cut in, steering Lizzie out.
She didn’t see his parents again before the wedding. But Edward often brought his daughter, Alice, home. Named after some illustrious grandmother—Lizzie never quite got the story.
Alice was a quiet girl, not pretty but well-behaved. Edward was thrilled they got on. At the wedding, her mother-in-law hinted they shouldn’t rush into kids. Lizzie assured her she wanted to finish her degree and work first. Plenty of time.
When Alice visited, her grandmother made a point of saying a father shouldn’t neglect his child. Edward spoiled her rotten. Lizzie bit her tongue—she’d known what she was signing up for.
After graduation, Lizzie got a job at a modest London paper. Not glamorous, but still—she’d made it. They visited her parents twice. Seeing her happy was all they needed.
Three years passed. Just before New Year’s, she told Edward she was pregnant.
“I was saving it for the holiday, but I couldn’t wait.”
“But you didn’t want kids yet. You’re on the pill. Did you forget?”
“It wasn’t an accident. I stopped taking them. Thought it’d take time—but it didn’t. Isn’t that brilliant?” His face froze. “You’re not happy?”
“I am, but—why didn’t you talk to me first?”
“If a man leaves contraception to the woman, he’s left the decision to her too. Right? I want this. Should I wait till I’m forty?”
“Don’t shout. Fine. Let’s hope it’s a boy. You’ll be the one staying home, though. What about your job?” He hugged her, and peace was restored.
That New Year, Edward told his parents. His father clapped him on the back. His mother was livid.
“I knew it. This provincial girl’s securing her place with a baby. First the residency, now this. And are you even sure it’s yours? She’ll take the flat next—we can’t buy her out like we did Sophie.”
“Mum, stop. We love each other. Lizzie wouldn’t—”
“You don’t know what she’s plotting.”
Edward stormed out. Lizzie’s pregnancy was smooth. Nine months later, she had a healthy boy.
His parents showed up at the hospital. Her mother-in-law peered into the blue-wrapped bundle—and her frown vanished. The boy was Edward made over.
“Three of us now. We’ll need a bigger place,” Edward mused, tipsy.
“He’s tiny. No rush. Once I’m back at work, we’ll see,” Lizzie said. He kissed her, pleased.
Edward started visiting his parents again. Lizzie didn’t join—little Robbie was too young, and her mother-in-law wasn’t keen. She doted on Alice, insisted she shouldn’t feel replaced.
Edward brought Alice over, took her out. Lizzie stayed home with Robbie. The first time Alice saw him, she stared in silence.
“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” Lizzie asked.
Alice didn’t answer. She curled up on the sofa, clutching a stuffed rabbit—always the toys Edward gave her. Never mind that Lizzie bought the ones she actually liked.
Alice often slept over, insisting on sharing Edward’s bed. Lizzie took the sofa.
One day, while cooking, Lizzie noticed the quiet. She looked in—Alice sat stiffly on the sofa. Something felt off. She checked the cot. Robbie was asleep, the blanket over his head.
She pulled it back. He wasn’t breathing. She shook him—he woke, wailing. She held him close, then rounded on Alice.
“Why did you cover him? He could’ve suffocated!”
Edward walked in to hear her shouting. Alice burst into tears.
“How could you accuse her? He probably kicked the blanket off himself. Making a scene over nothing—hysterical.” He took Alice and left.
Robbie was fine, but Lizzie felt guilty. She apologised when Edward returned. Peace again.
She hoped her in-laws would keep Alice away. But no—Edward still brought her over. Lizzie never left them alone.
Time passed. Robbie grew, toddling after Alice, adoring her. She seemed to enjoy it too.
One winter afternoon, they all went sledging. Lizzie hesitated before putting Robbie on Alice’s sled. But Alice held him tight, helped him climb. Edward beamed at their bond. Lizzie relaxed.
On the way back, they walked arm in arm. Alice pushed Robbie ahead on the sled. He laughed, begging to go faster. They were nearly home—just the road to cross.
Edward’s phone rang. He stopped to answer.
Lizzie didn’t notice at first—then she saw Alice shove the sled. It flew downhill, hit the kerb, flipped. Robbie tumbled into the road.
Her scream cut through the icy air—or was it someone else’s? She snatched him up just as brakes screeched.
“Should watch your kids better… Social services ought to hear about this,” bystanders muttered.
She carried Robbie home, refusing to let Edward take him. Alice dragged the sled in silence.
At home, Lizzie let loose. Alice had done it on purpose. Jealous. She begged Edward not to bring her back. He called her mad. Alice was just a child.
The next day, her mother-in-law arrived, shrieking about keeping a father from his child. Lizzie tried to explain. No one listened. Exhausted, she asked to be left alone.
“Oh, now she’s throwing us out? Told you she’d take the flat,” her mother-in-law crowed.
Lizzie grabbed a suitcase.
“Piss off back to your shithole town,” her mother-in-law sneered.
Edward persuaded them to leave. He stopped Lizzie from going that night—but the next morning, she took Robbie and left for her parents’.
Her mother was thrilled—until Lizzie brushed off her questions. Edward came, begged her back. She refused. The love was gone. He’d chosen his mother, his daughter—always blaming her.
She quit her London job, joined a local paper. Life went on. Robbie grew into a tall, bright lad. He took up judo, even won a competitionYears later, as Lizzie watched her son accept his university diploma in London, she finally realized that happiness had always been a choice, not a place.
