**Diary Entry**
To avoid disgrace, she agreed to live with a hunchbacked man But when he whispered his request in her ear, she froze
John, is that you, my love?
Yes, Mum, its me. Sorry its so late
Her voice trembled with worry and exhaustion as she stood in the darkened hallway, wrapped in an old dressing gown, clutching a torch like shed been waiting for him all her life.
Johnny, my sweetheart, where on earth have you been until this hour? The skys black as pitch, and the stars are blinking like foxes eyes
Mum, I was with Dave. Studying, revising Lost track of time. Im sorry I didnt call. You know you dont sleep well
Or were you with a girl? she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Fallen in love, have we?
Mum, dont be daft! John laughed, kicking off his shoes. Im not the sort lasses wait for by the garden gate. And whod want mecrooked-backed, with arms like a gorilla and a head full of thistles?
But pain flickered in her eyes. She didnt say what she truly sawnot a grotesque figure, but the son shed raised in hardship, in the cold, alone.
John wasnt handsome. Barely five foot four, hunched, with long, simian arms that nearly grazed his knees. His head was large, crowned with wild curls like dandelion fluff. As a boy, they called him monkey, goblin, freak of nature. Yet he grewinto something far greater.
He and his mother, Margaret, had come to this village when he was ten, fleeing the citypoverty, shame. His father jailed, his mother gone. Just the two of them left, against the world.
That boy wont last, muttered old Mrs. Taylor, eyeing the scrawny lad. Hell vanish into thin air, not a trace left.
But John didnt vanish. He clung to life like ivy on stone. Grew, breathed, worked. And Margaretiron-hearted, with hands scarred from years in the bakerykept the village fed. Ten hours a day, year after year, until her body gave out.
When she fell ill, John became son, daughter, nurse, and doctor. Scrubbed floors, cooked porridge, read aloud from tattered magazines. And when she diedquiet as a breeze leaving the fieldshe stood by her coffin, fists clenched, dry-eyed. There were no tears left.
But people remembered. Neighbours brought food, warm clothes. Then, unexpectedly, they began visitingfirst boys fascinated by radios (John repaired sets at the local station, fiddling with wires like a wizard). Then girls. First for tea, then lingering. Laughing. Talking.
One evening, he noticedAlice always stayed last.
Not in a hurry? he asked when the others had gone.
Nowhere to hurry to, she murmured, staring at the floor. Stepmother hates me. Three brothers, all brutes. Father drinks. I stay with a friend, but its not forever Here, its quiet. Safe. I dont feel alone.
John looked at herand for the first time, understood he could be needed.
Live with me, he said simply. Mums rooms empty. Youll be mistress of the house. And I Ill ask nothing. Not a word, not a glance. Just stay.
The village talked. Whispered behind hands:
A hunchback and a beauty? Ridiculous!
Yet time passed. Alice cleaned, cooked soup, smiled. John worked, stayed silent, cared.
And when she had a son, the world turned upside down.
Whos he look like? folks asked. Who?
But the boy, Daniel, gazed at John and said, Daddy!
And John, whod never dreamed of fatherhood, felt something warm unfurl in his chestlike a tiny sun.
He taught Daniel to fix plugs, fish, read. Alice, watching them, said,
You should find a wife, John. Youre not alone.
Youre like a sister to me, he replied. First, well see you wedto a good man. Then well see.
And such a man came. Young, from the next village. Honest. Hardworking.
They held the wedding. Alice left.
Yet one day, John met her on the road and said,
Ive a favour to ask Let me keep Daniel.
What? she gasped. Why?
I know, Alice. When you birth a child, everything changes inside. But Daniel hes not yours by blood. Youll forget him. I I cant.
I wont give him up!
Im not taking him, John said softly. Visit whenever you like. Just let him live with me.
Alice hesitated. Then called her son:
Daniel! Come here! Tell mewho do you want to live with? Me or Daddy?
The boy ran over, eyes bright:
Cant it be like before? With both of you?
No, Alice said sadly.
Then I stay with Daddy! Daniel cried. But you visit, Mum!
And so it was.
Years later, Alice returned:
Were moving to the city. Im taking Daniel.
The boy wailed, clinging to John:
Im not going! Im staying with Dad!
John Alice whispered. Hes not yours.
I know, John said. Ive always known.
Ill run away! Daniel sobbed.
And he did. Again and again.
Finally, Alice relented.
Let it be, she sighed. Hes chosen.
A new chapter began.
The neighbour, Mary, lost her husbanda drunkard, a tyrant. No childrenthat house had held no love.
John started visitingfor milk, then to fix the fence, mend the roof. Then just to talk. Slowly, carefully, they grew close.
Alice wrote letters. Told them Daniel had a sisterDiana.
Bring her, John wrote. Family should be together.
They visited. Daniel doted on his sister, sang her lullabies, taught her to walk.
Live with us, Alice begged. The city has schools, theatres, opportunities
No, Daniel said firmly. I wont leave Dad. Or Aunt Maryshes like a mum now.
At school, when boys bragged of fathers who were soldiers, engineers, John never shrank.
My dad? Daniel said proudly. He can fix anything. He understands how the world works. He saved me. Hes my hero.
Years rolled on.
One evening, Mary and John sat by the fire with Daniel.
Were having a baby, Mary said.
You wont send me away? Daniel whispered.
Dont be silly! Mary hugged him. Youre as much mine as if Id borne you.
Son, John said, watching the flames. How could you think that? Youre my world.
When little Samuel was born, Daniel held him like treasure.
Now Ive a sister and a brother, he murmured. And Dad. And Aunt Mary.
Alice still called. But Daniel always answered:
Im already home.
Decades passed. People forgot Daniel wasnt Johns blood. The whispers died.
And when Daniel became a father himself, he told his children of the best dad in the world.
He wasnt handsome, Daniel said. But he had more love in him than anyone Ive known.
Every year, on the anniversary of Johns passing, the house filledMarys children, Alices, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Tea, laughter, memories.
Best father we ever had! theyd toast. May there be more like him!
And someone would raise a fingerto the sky, the stars, the memory of a man who, against all odds, became a true father.
The only one.
Unforgettable.
