Youre a youthful mishap.
The girl became a mum at the tender age of sixteen. The father? Also sixteen, which tells you everything you need to know. Well skip over the entire tabloid-worthy heap of drama, but suffice it to say, shortly after baby arrived, the lovebirds parted ways at record speed. When the girl realised the boy had absolutely zero interest in her or in his new son, she promptly lost any spark of motherhood shed felt. So, it was up to her parentsthe grandparentsto raise the little lad.
By eighteen, the girl had run off to Manchester with some new fellow. She didnt ring, didnt write, didnt bother. Her parents werent exactly queuing up to see her either. They muttered under their breaths: How could she just abandon her boy? What a disgrace. Frankly, it hurta lotthat their own child could behave like that.
So, they raised their grandson themselves. To this day, he thinks of them as Mum and Dad, and hes fiercely grateful for his childhood, good schooling, and just about everything in-between.
Fast forward to his own eighteenth birthday. His cousin was getting married, which meant a full family turnout for the big do at a village hall somewhere in Staffordshire. Even his actual mother showed upby now on marriage number three with yet another new surname and two more daughters to her name.
The eldest was ten, the youngest just toddling along at eighteen months. The boy, buzzing with excitement, hoped for a chance to meet his real mum, and connect with the half-sisters hed never seen. And, naturally, he wanted to ask her: Mum, why did you leave me?
No matter how wonderful his grandparents were, he still felt that achea missing puzzle piece. He even kept her only remaining photograph; Granddad had burnt all the rest.
During the wedding, his mother was chattering away to a distant cousin, singing the praises of her daughters.
And what about me, Mum? he ventured.
You? She barely glanced his way. You were just a youthful mistake. Your father was rightI shouldve just ended it, she replied, a touch of indifference, before turning back to her wine spritzer and her gossip.
Seven years later, settled into his cosy two-bed flat in Reading with his wife and sonthanks, really, to his brilliant grandparents and the in-lawshis phone rang. Unknown number.
Hello, love, its Mum here. Uncle George gave me your number. Listen, I know you live close to the university where your sisters just started. Any chance she could crash with you for a while? Shes family after all. Shes not keen on halls, rentings outrageously expensive, my husbands left, Im barely keeping upone at uni, another at secondary, and the thirds off to nursery soon.
Sorry, youve got the wrong number, he replied briskly and hung up.
Then, he scooped up his son and announced, Right then, lad, how about we pay Grandma and Grandpa a visit? After that, maybe well all go see great-auntie Maude?
And shall we go out to the countryside at the weekend? chirped his little boy.
Of course! Cant go breaking old family traditions, now can we?
Some relatives wagged fingers and tutted, insisting he shouldve helped his sister. But he reckoned his true loyalty lay with Grandma and Grandpathe ones whod actually been there. As for the woman who saw him as a blip on her timeline? Well, that was nothing more than ancient history.
