Sinner!or Your familys a mess!my husband would jeer, every single time I asked him for something on Lucys behalf.
Shes your ex-lovers daughter! I will never accept her, do you hear me? Never!
My little girl, Lucy, would burst into tears, flinging herself beneath my protection, clinging to her mother for comfort. Children sense their parents feelings keenly, and Lucy, only six, began to stammer. I understood perfectly well why.
Id met my future husband, Stephen, when he was thirty and I was sixteen. He spent almost a year pursuing mejealous of everyone, never leaving my side. Eventually, through sheer persistence and pressure, he wore down my defences. Before I realised it, I was married. What choice did I have? Better to marry someone, anyone, than be called a spinster. My mother was a tyrant, through and through; my father had left us for the woman he truly loved.
For years, my mother hoped hed return. But when his new partner bore him twins, she abandoned hope. Instead, she spiralled into hatred and bitterness. She shamed dads name at work, wished dreadful things on him, begged fortune-tellers to bring him misery. For sixteen-year-old me, living in a house marinated in curses and anger was torture. I longed to cover my ears and run awayanywhere just to escape her litanies.
So, to me, Stephen felt like a rescuer. I genuinely believed I loved him, and that my love was timeless. Stephen himself didnt come from joy either. His father had raised him alone; his mother either drowned or ran off right after his birth, no one really knew. Whenever Stephen asked, Wheres my mum? his dad dodged the question. Eventually, the longing faded.
Our daughter, Emily, was born soon after. We loved her completely, sparing no expense, giving her the best we could. Those were happy times. At last, I had a normal family. Stephen looked after us, tried to lay down a safety net wherever he could.
Five years passed, then came a loud knock on the flat door. I opened it to find a young woman and a girl of about seven. The woman pushed the girl forward.
Who are you looking for? I asked.
Stephen, she said, determined.
Hes not in. Can I give him a message? My heart fluttered anxiously.
You tell that waster he still owes child support! Ill take him to court if need be! she snapped.
And you are? I pressed, my voice rising. Im his wife. Whats going on here?
This is his daughter. He promised to help. We havent seen a penny. Hes all talk! the woman cried, wiping a tear.
For the first time, I noticed that the little girl was Stephens mirror image. Same frown, same piercing green eyes staring resentfully up at me.
What a fine mess. When had Stephen managed this? I fumed, only comforted by the fact that it had all happened before Id met him. Still, he could have told me he had a childillegitimate or not.
Naturally, I didnt invite them in. I told them to return in a month. Stephen was away on businesshe often travelled for work.
This shocking incident shook my faith in Stephens honesty. Who knew what he got up to on his business trips? Suspicions gnawed at me, eating away at my trust.
I imagined scene after dreadful scene, until Stephen finally came home. I was ready to divorce him then and there. One cannot build a marriage on lies! But Stephen soothed me. Where would you go, silly woman, with a child? He insisted the woman was lying, that Id let my imagination run away with me. Dont be ridiculous, Mary. There are plenty of green-eyed girls in England…
Well, fine then, I thought, feeling lighter. She must have got the wrong man. Yet, the incident left a sour taste I couldnt quite shake.
Stephen continued to travel for work, while I took Emily everywhere with me.
Once, a friend asked me to visit her brothers studio, as she needed to deliver some money. When her brother opened the door, I was flooredlove hit me there and then! I was twenty-five; David, her brother, was only twenty.
Words cant describe what we shared behind closed doors. Fireworks doesnt even begin to cover it! We soared, we drowned, the whole world vanished from beneath us.
In time, I left Stephen. Our daughter Emily chose to stay with him. The whole spell with David lasted half a year, and when I told him I was pregnant, he begged me to return home, to my husband. Its wrong, Mary, he sighed, sounding truly sad. And so, he handed me back to my husband, love and all, and that was the end.
I went back to Stephen and confessed. Our marriage was thoroughly shattered, and we began the painful work of picking up the pieces.
Nine months on, Lucy was born. Stephen pretended she didnt exist. Hed realised she wasnt his. Emily pulled away from me, always finding excuses to leave the house when I tried to draw her close. Was the whole cycle repeating? Just as a wall of misunderstanding rose between my mother and me, so one rose between Emily and mebrick by brick.
Did Stephen ever love me, or was he simply unwilling to air our dirty laundry? He never suggested separating. Sometimes, hed lose his temper. Id always forgive him, knowing sometimes anger blazes ahead of reason. Besides, I wasnt innocent myself.
All my motherly love was poured into Lucy: she was the outcast in our family, always second place. Emily never accepted Lucy as a sister, and Stephen did nothing to help her feel included. If anything, he made it worse.
On her eighteenth birthday, Emily left for university halls. At the door, she said,
Live however you like. Youll never see me back here again!
Those words stung more than nettles. I wanted desperately to win back her love, but felt smothered, tangled in sticky webs. It was a breaking point.
Later, Stephen and I had a son. I wanted to redeem myself, to compensate for all that had gone wrong. My pregnancy was difficultI was thirty-six by thenand at times, I thought I might die.
Thats what you get, Mary, for your sins! Feeling good, are you? Id think, bitterly. Perhaps if you die, theyll finally forgive, finally shed a tear for you.
Stephen was thrilled by his son, though not without a jibe: Is he really mine?
Emily called to congratulate us. Well, now at least you have plenty without me! Kiss my brother for me. Mum, please dont treat Lucy as you did me. Spare her.
Since then, Emily has never returned home. Shes getting married soon, busy with her trousseau. Stephen, meanwhile, never misses a chance to remind me about Lucy. One look at her, and its as though milk goes sourNot my blood, hed grumble. Shes no kin of mine. Ours is more like third cousins twice-removed!
No wonder theres an old saying: Whats allowed for the goose isnt for the gander. Funnily enough, that green-eyed girlSophiereally did turn out to be Stephens daughter. I raged at Stephen. Who is that woman, how could you but he was quick to interrupt:
Who wouldnt walk through an open door?
Sophie ended up friends with my Emily.
And so, I sigh and carry on. Life isnt a fairy tale. It weaves guilt and forgiveness, loss and reunion, generation after generation. In the end, the lesson is this: as much as we may try, we cannot shield our children from the storms of the past, but we can offer them lovea love strong enough to break the chain and finally, gently, let them heal.
