“Mark, Ive had your son, but I want nothing from you,” the girlfriend shouted over the phone.
Mark stared at Poppy with the expression of a mutt whose favourite bone had been taken away.
“Yes, you heard right, Poppy. About six months ago I had a fling.” He shrugged. “Just a bit of fun, nothing serious. And she ended up having a baby. Just recently.”
Poppys head spun. The news hit her like a cold splash of rain. Her devoted, everpresent husband had fathered a child with someone else! She struggled to let the words settle.
For a few minutes she tried to work out what Mark actually meant.
He sat opposite her, shoulders slumped, hands clasped between his knees, looking as if the air had been sucked out of him.
“So a son?” Poppy repeated slowly. “Your married self has a baby not from me, right?”
“Listen, I swear I didnt know.” Mark said, eyes wide.
“Didnt know how babies are made? Youre forty, Mark.”
“No, I didnt know shed actually decide to go through with it.”
“We split ages ago, she went back to her husband. I thought everything was fine. Then yesterday I get a call: Your sons born. £300. All good. And I hung up.”
Poppy rose, knees wobbling like shed just run a marathon. Outside, autumn stormed about, the wind rattling the old oak trees. She glanced at the view and, despite herself, found it oddly beautiful.
“So what’s next?” she asked without turning.
“I havent the faintest idea.”
“Great answer from a real man, head of the household. I dont know.”
She snapped around. “Are you actually going there? To see the little bastard?”
Mark looked away, cheeks flushing. “She sent the hospital address, said the discharge is the day after tomorrow.”
She read the message again, half amused, half horrified:
Come if you like, stay if you dont. I need nothing from you.
Proud, she echoed, I need nothing. The hallway door slammed as the older kids trudged back in.
Poppy forced a smileyears of sales taught her to keep a straight face even when the deal went south.
The oldest, a broadshouldered lad named Tom, popped his head into the kitchen. Hey, Mum, why so sour?
Anything to eat? Were starving like wolves after training.
Poppy tossed a packet of frozen pasties into the oven. Heat them up, love.
The younger brother, Jack, clapped his dad on the shoulder. Dad, you promised to look at the carburettor on the old banger.
Poppy watched the scene, her heart tightening. Their biological dad had vanished years ago, leaving only child support cheques and an occasional postcard. Mark had stepped in, teaching them to drive, mending scraped knees, attending school meetings truly a father in every sense.
He managed a halfhearted grin. Ill check it later, Tom. Let me talk to your mum first.
The boys left, plates clattering behind them.
They love you, Poppy whispered. And you?
Stop it, Poppy. I love them too. Theyre my boys. Im not going anywhere.
He confessed it had been a drunken mistake, nothing seriousjust a fling. Just a fling, and now we have to change nappies.
Sixyearold Mia barreled into the room, cracking Poppys composure. She leapt onto Marks lap.
Daddy, why are you sad? Did Mum scold you?
Mark hugged her, his nose almost touching her bright curls. He lived for her. Poppy knew hed do anything for Mia, even if it meant tearing his own sanity apart.
No, sweetheart, were just talking adult stuff. Go on, put on your cartoons, Ill be right back.
When Mia ran off, silence settled over the kitchen.
You realise everythings shifting, dont you? Poppy asked, sitting back down.
Im not leaving, Poppy. I love you, the kids I cant survive without you.
Nice words, Mark. But facts are facts: youve got a son now. He needs a dad.
That woman on the phone keeps saying she wants nothing, but hormones and ego are a nasty mix. In a month or two the baby will need coats, doctor visits, the whole nine yards. Shell call: Mark, weve run out of winter snowsuits, or We need a doctor. And youll go, because youre a decent bloke with a conscience.
Mark stayed silent.
What about money, Mark? Poppy lowered her voice. Where will it come from?
He flinched as if struck. His business collapsed two years ago; debts were cleared with Poppys money. He now earned a pittance compared to what she brought in. The house, cars, holidays, the kids tuitionall on her. His own bank cards were frozen, he survived on cash or the account tied to her name.
Ill find something, he muttered.
Where? Driving a nightshift taxi? Or raiding your mums cupboard for spare change to support a strangers child?
The child isnt a stranger! Mark snapped. Everything ended months ago!
A child binds people tighter than a passport stamp, Poppy mused. Are you going to the discharge?
The question hung in the air. Mark stared at his hands. I dont know, Poppy. Honestly. Humanly, I should. The kids innocent.
Humanly, Poppy teased, and for me? For Mia? For the boys?
Youll go, see the bundle, hold him, and thats it. Then youll drift back, telling us work is a nightmare while we wait here.
She walked over to the tap, turned it on, watched the water, then shut it.
Shes eight years younger than you, Mark. Shes thirtytwo, gave you a sonher own, not yours.
My boys arent yours, even if you raised them. This ones yours.
You think it wont change anything?
Your lads are mine, I raised them.
Men always want an heir. Yours is a girl.
Enough! Stop pushing me before I lose it all. I said Ill stay with the family, but I cant freeze my heart.
A child was born, his blood ran through Marks veins. He felt guilty, trapped, ready to pack his things and bolt to his mums flat, any student hall, anywhereexcept hed be blackmailed into staying.
Poppy froze, a cold dread creeping in. If she told him to leave now, hed vanish, penniless, homeless, and probably end up with the woman whod just given him a baby. Shed lose him forever. She didnt want that. She loved him despite the sting, and the kids loved him too. You can kick someone out in a minute, but living in an empty house echoing with his absence? That was a nightmare.
Sit, she said softly. No ones chasing you.
Mark lingered a beat, breathing heavily, then sat.
Poppy, Im sorry. Im just a… well
Just a mess, she agreed, but our mess
The evening dissolved into a fog. Poppy helped Mia with homework, checked work reports, yet her mind drifted to the woman on the phone. A pretty, young thing, likely smiling at the newborn, thinking shed won. She needs nothing, she muttered, the smartest move.
She imagined the womans triumph, the babys little grin, and the inevitable demands for money soon enough.
The next morning, Poppy felt worse. The boys ate quickly and disappeared, while Mia threw a tantrum.
Dad, braid my hair! Mum does it wrong.
Mark took a comb, his large handsused to steering wheels and hammersgently working the tiny strands, tongue peeking out in concentration. Poppy sipped her tea, watching the scene.
Her husband, warm and domestic, yet somewhere a different child also claimed his right.
Mark, she said when Mia scampered off to dress, we need to decide, now.
He set the comb down.
Ive thought all night.
And?
Im not going to the discharge.
Poppy felt something tighten inside, but she kept her face neutral.
Why?
Because if I go, I give hope to her, to the baby, to myself. I cant be two dads at once. I dont want to lie to you, I dont want to steal time from Mia or the boys.
Hed chosen eleven years ago: Poppy, the family here.
What about that boy? Poppy asked, surprised at herself.
Ill pay support, officially, via maintenance. But I wont visit. Better he grows up not knowing me than waiting for a dad who shows up only on weekends.
She twirled her wedding ring on a finger.
Are you sure? Youll regret it later.
Ill regret it, yes. Ill wonder how he is, but if I start commuting, Ill lose you all.
She sighed. Youre strong, Mark, but not steel. Youll start hating me, and I dont want that.
Mark stood, slipped his arms around her shoulders from behind.
I dont want another life. Ive got you, the kids. The price of my stupidity is paying in cash alone. I cant share my time or love with that child.
Poppy placed her hand on his.
Cash, huh? Ill grin at that.
He muttered, Ill earn it. Ill scrape together, but I wont ask you for more.
She relaxed a little, realizing his words were exactly what shed been waiting for. She hadnt planned to share her husband, and she didnt care about the other womans feelings. Shed had a baby with a married manher problem.
When the discharge day came, Mark didnt show. The woman on the other end of the line screamed, cursed, demanded why hed vanished. Mark told her plainly: she could only count on money, no visits. She hung up and never called again; her line stayed dead for six months, which suited Poppy just fine.
