– You’re not here! – Helen’s voice shook with fury. – Understand? In this family, you no longer exist!
– Helen, calm down now – Charles tried to interject, but his wife talked over him.
– Hush! Your silence all these years told her she could do whatever she liked!
Anne stood in the lounge doorway, her travel bag gripped tightly. Her face was pale, lips trembling, but her gaze remained proud.
– Alright, Mum. Whatever you say.
– Don’t call me ‘Mum’! – Helen shrieked. – I have one daughter, and it’s certainly not you!
Charles sank heavily into an armchair, burying his face in his hands. Anne looked at her father, praying he’d say something in her defence. The man stayed silent.
– Dad? – she whispered softly.
– Anne, must it be so sudden? – Charles finally raised his head. – Let’s talk this through calmly.
– Talk about what? – Helen snatched a photo frame from a side table and flung it to the floor. Glass shattered into a thousand pieces. – She’s disgraced this family! The whole village is wagging its tongue!
Anne glanced at the broken frame. It held their happy New Year group photo – all smiles, the perfect family. It felt like a cruel mockery now.
– Mum… Helen Marguerite – Anne corrected herself – I didn’t mean for this to happen.
– Didn’t mean it? – Helen took a step forward. – Carrying on with a married man! Breaking up a family! Now expecting his child!
Anne instinctively cradled her belly. It was early stages, yet the news had raced through their sleepy Yorkshire village.
– I love him, – she murmured.
– Love him! – Helen sneered, mimicking her. – A forty-something chap with three kids already! What on earth does he see in you that’s worth ditching his wife for?
Anne went even paler.
– He loves me. We’re going to live together.
– Where? – Helen asked cuttingly. – Here? In *my* house? Think I’ll let you bring that… that *creature* under this roof?
– Helen, enough, – Charles intervened. – She is our daughter.
– *Ours*? – Helen whirled on her husband. – I never birthed daughters like this! Raised her, put her through university, got her a decent job! And what’s her thanks? Taking up with the first available bloke!
Anne placed her bag on the floor.
– Edward isn’t just anyone. We’ve known each other a year.
– Oh, a whole year! – Helen flung her hands up. – So you’ve spun me lies for a year! Saying you’re late from the office when you were haring off to see your fancy man!
– I wasn’t lying, I simply…
– Simply what? Simply omitting the truth? That *is* lying!
Charles stood and walked to the window. Outside, a fine rain fell, grey clouds hanging low over the slate roofs of neighbouring houses.
– Annie, – he said, back still turned, – what does this Edward say? Is he truly getting a divorce?
– Of course he is, – Anne answered. – He’s filed the papers.
– Filed the papers, – Helen repeated. – Too late. Family’s already wrecked. Children left without their father.
– The love wasn’t there, – Anne tried to explain. – They’ve lived like neighbours for ages. Edward says he married for convenience, not love.
– Naturally he says that! – Helen let out a harsh laugh. – All married men say that! Don’t love the wife, never wanted the kids, trapped into marriage! Then, once they’ve had their fling, back they trot to the wife and kids!
– Edward isn’t like that, – Anne insisted stubbornly.
– They’re *all* like that! – Helen snapped. – Think I don’t know how things work? Seen too many yarns like this! Promising the moon, then vanishing, especially when they hear there’s a baby on the way!
Anne flinched.
– He knows about the baby. And he’s thrilled.
– Thrilled? So where is he then? Why isn’t he here with you? Standing by his ‘beloved’?
– He… he’s on a business trip. Back in a week.
– Convenient timing, – Helen noted sarcastically. – Disappears off just when the truth surfaces.
Anne looked down. She’d thought it strange too, Edward leaving the very day she planned to tell her parents. He’d claimed the trip was fixed for months and couldn’t be changed.
– Helen, maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions? – Charles asked. – Give Anne time to sort it out.
– Sort it out? – Helen stared at her husband as if he were mad. – She’s sorted it out for us! Expecting a baby with a married man! Now the entire village knows the Worthingtons’ daughter is involved with someone else’s husband! Charles Worthington’s girl!
– We aren’t living together, – Anne said quietly. – Not yet.
– Oh, not *yet*! But the baby’s coming! Out of wedlock! Do you grasp what that means?
Anne lifted her chin.
– It means I’m going to be a mother. And I care not a fig for the neighbours’ gossip.
– *You* care not a fig? – Helen clutched at her chest. – Well *I* care! I live here! I work here! They’ll all be talking about *me* now! Saying I raised this daughter poorly!
– Mum, it’s the twenty-first century…
– The twenty-first century! – Helen cut her off. – Think people have changed? Gossiped then and gossip now! Especially in a village like ours!
Charles moved back from the window and sank into the armchair again.
– Anne, have you thought how you’ll manage? The job at the solicitor’s isn’t big, wage hardly generous. Bringing up a child costs pounds.
– Edward will help, – replied Anne.
– Will he? – Helen echoed. – And what if he doesn’t? Changes his mind? If his wife takes him back?
– She won’t. They’ve lived apart for a year already.
– A year apart, and only now he files? – Helen’s voice dripped disbelief.
Anne fell silent. She didn’t quite understand that delay either. Edward had cited the kids, avoiding upsetting them. But doubts were beginning to nag.
– See? – said Helen. – Can’t even answer yourself. Because it’s all his guff. Lying to you, same as they lie to all their sweethearts.
– He’s *not* lying! – Anne flared. – We love each other!
– Love! – Helen snorted contemptuously. – At your age, it’s brains you need, not hormones ruling you.
– Helen, no need for rudeness, – Charles pleaded.
– No rudeness? – Helen turned on her husband. – She’s shamed us, and I mustn’t be rude? Look at her! Twenty-six, acting like a silly schoolgirl!
Anne picked her bag up off the floor.
– Right. I get it. I’ll leave. Won’t shame you further.
– Go, – Helen said coldly. –
She trudged into the damp Cotswolds evening, her hand resting on her still-flat belly, wondering if Edward’s grand plans involved more castles built on sand than sturdy bricks and mortar.
