Simply a Stranger
Beth could barely wait for her fiancé to leave the flat. The moment the front door shut behind him, she spun around to her mother, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Well? What do you think? Isnt he fantastic? she declared, already standing tall in the middle of the lounge, chin raised just enough to signal she was picturing herself as the wife of this man. There was an unmistakable certainty in her tone: she clearly expected her mum to be just as thoroughly impressed.
Pauline lounged in her favourite armchair, slowly flicking through a glossy magazine. She glanced up at her daughter with an unreadable smile and shrugged as if carefully weighing her words.
Thats up to you, love. Hes polite, presentable, ambitious. If his salary is anything like what he claims, you could do worse. But its your choice.
Beths face lit up with the force of a thousand sparks. She nearly squealed with happiness and did a little jig in her slippers. I knew youd see it my way!
Turning to her stepfather, who was quietly scrolling through his phone in the next chair, she pressed on, And what about you? Go on, give me the Mans Perspective.
Roger merely raised an eyebrow and let out a dry chuckle, lounging back. The phrase Mans Perspective seemed almost to amuse him. Hed known Beth long enough to realise her interest in outside opinions only went so far as they overlapped with her own.
Hes full of himself, rather self-absorbed and far too concerned with the balance in his bank account, your Simon, he said evenly, gazing right at Beth. Youre seeing Prince Charming and totally missing the warning flags. Marry him, and youll be regretting it in a year or two.
Rogers words sat in the air like a draft under the door. The only sound was the tick-tock of the clock above the mantelpiece. He didnt bother to sugarcoat things; he felt Beth needed to hear the truthhowever much she didnt want to.
Beth flushed red, her eyes glinting in that familiar way she had whenever someone dared question her decisions. She hated being challenged, especially by someone shed written off as largely irrelevant to her life.
Oh, naturally! The Great Psychologist speaks, she huffed, folding her arms in full defiance. Her voice trembled with pique. Apparently, only you know how I should live or who I should love!
Roger didnt so much as flinch, unbothered by her dramatic display. Years in the family had bred immunity to Beths outbursts. Unfazed, he replied, I reckon I do, yes. Youre still a child, even at twenty. And, judging by your taste in friends, your people skills are a bit ropey. Dont go making a mistake youll spend years untangling.
Roger, as it happened, wasnt wrong. Beths mates had a way of turning out unreliable: one borrowed money and vanished, one pilfered her purse, most simply faded out of her life at the first sniff of hardship. She had a talent for befriending charlatans and never quite spotting the cracks. Only one friendoddly, the one who agreed with Rogerhad ever truly stuck by her, gently waving caution flags about Simon that Beth flat-out ignored. For Beth, Simon was the answer to every hope: strong, confident, successful. All the rest was noise.
I dont know people? Seriously? Beth retorted, her voice one octave too loud from pent-up frustration. Why did I even ask you? Youre just Mums well, whatever shes calling you now, since youve stuck around longer than the other blokes. Youre no one to me. And youve no right to order me about!
She said it fast, letting the words spill out before she could second-guess herself. In that moment, she believed only this kind of forcefulness could defend her choices, her pride, her right to decide for herself.
Roger took his time responding, fixing his gaze on the rug before looking back at Beth. There was no anger in his face, just tiredness, even hurtlike someone whod watched their favourite team lose on penalties for twenty years straight.
Ive raised you since you were five, he said gently but firmly, every syllable measured. Helped with homework, took you to the park, shared everything I know. And now Im just a stranger? So why, for fifteen years, did you call me Dad?
His voice only trembled once, but he quickly righted himself. The effort behind the words was plain. He hated dredging up old wounds, but there it was; he couldnt sit this out.
Beth paused, the wind temporarily knocked out of her sails. She nearly shot back another retort but something stopped her. Her gaze landed on all the familiar furnishings in the room, as if they might offer help.
Because Mum told me to! she finally shot back, lips pressed thin. Her biological dad was a shadowy figuremore missing than present, and not one for doting. Yes, hes unreliable and indifferent, but hes my father. Youre just someone else.
The words came out harsher than she intended, and immediately she felt a secret prick of shame. Deep down, Beth didnt truly believe it. Roger had always been there for her, in every sense but name. Supportive, patient, sturdya real father, just without the paperwork. But for now, her wounded pride rushed in to fill the silence. She wasnt about to concede this, especially as she could sense a sliver of truth in Rogers criticismand that stung.
Since her teens, arguments with Roger had become a regular sport. They started with little thingscurfews, unsuitable friends, revising for exams before TV. Over time his rules and questions multiplied: he paid close attention to her movements, pried into her friendships, insisted she focus on schoolwork. Beth always read this as tyranny. Her friends reassured her, All dads do that, its just awkward affection! But Beth never bought it. Roger, as she saw it, had no right to set rulesafter all, he wasnt her real dad.
Her mum, Pauline, took a different tack. She worried, sure, but stayed away from interrogations. No grilled interrogations about dates, no rooting through school reports, no checking when Beth came home. For Beth, that meant everything: it was gentleness, freedom, spacea kind of love she treasured.
Now, in the heat of the moment, Roger went very still. His face lost colour, shoulders sagged, and his eyesnormally so resolutelooked utterly spent.
A stranger, then? he said softly.
There was no anger, only an ache she felt across the room. Roger had counted Beth as his daughter. For years, hed put in the work: the parent evenings, the scraped knees, the bike lessons and late-night chats. Had he stayed with Pauline all these years for Beth? Perhaps. The cracks in his marriage had long since split wide, but each time he thought of leaving, he stalled, knowing Beth needed him.
Hed always pitied the girl. Pauline did the basics: food, clothes, toys. But the deep emotional bond, the effort to understand Beths swings and dreamsthat was missing. Roger, filling the gap, took responsibility; he wanted to be her anchor.
Yes, a stranger! Beth cried, but she too stopped short. Watching Roger, so pale, so suddenly diminished, she felt her resolve waver. She kept up her guard, but now glanced warily at her stepfather. He seemed hollowed out by her words.
Pauline, whod remained coolly passive through all the drama, finally set down her magazine. Her voice was calm, almost indifferent, as if discussing bin day or the price of bread.
Well, shes not entirely wrong, is she? Pauline chimed in without looking up. If you cared so much, you could have sorted out proper guardianship. But you didnt. So, dont take it personally
Those wordsso casualcut as deeply as any insult. Roger swivelled to look at his wife, disbelief on his face. There was no compassion, no desire to cushion the momentjust cold pragmatism.
Fine. If Im just some stranger and so appalling, theres no reason for us to live together any longer, Roger announced, hauling himself out of the chair. He wobbled just for a second, then straightened, trying to keep dignity in tatters. Ill file for divorce myself. You have twenty-four hours to pack your things. Its my house.
His voice was steady, but carried the exhaustion of a sleepless night. Beth was momentarily speechless. She longed to say something, but nothing came. Roger, without another glance, strode to the guest bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him. The click of the lock was final; something vital had been severed.
Left alone, he sat on the edge of the bed, the silence buzzing. He wanted to see no onewife or not-quite-daughter. A blow like that leaves bruises you dont see. Hed poured soul, time, everything into Beth and in the end, to them, he was just another man who happened to share a postcode.
Pauline soon snapped out of her detachment and hurried to the locked door, pleading, Oh Roger, dont be rash. She didnt mean it, you know how kids are. Dont chuck it all away over a quarrel. Weve been together fifteen years!
Her voice wavered, searching for reasons, listing their years together, domestic routines, little shared habits. But there was no sign of genuine remorsejust a desire to avoid the hassle of unravelling their lives.
Roger sat in the dim, not answering. He remembered when he first realised he no longer loved Paulineno drama, just an internal snap when he caught her in a compromising moment. Hed stayed for Beth, the only real family hed built here. Now, after Beths words, any last threads had frayed away.
Hed been a good dadschool nights, scraped knees, calming storms big and small. Beth had called him Dad, shared giggles and small confessions. Now she declared him an extra on her lifes stage.
The solitary tick of the clock filled the room as Roger shut his eyes, trying in vain to gather himself. The decision was made: divorce. No point staying in a house where, it turns out, he never really belonged.
***********************
The divorce was swift and utterly Britishcivil, muted, quietly painful. It took only a few weeks: papers signed, assets split as per the law. Pauline moved back to her pokey old flat in a scruffy bit of Croydonthe same place shed lived before Roger. The walls peeled, the carpets squeaked, the loo was slightly off-kilter. Through her dirty windows, street noise and neighbourly shout-fests often drowned out the telly.
Beth hated it, of course. Shed been spoilt by Rogers roomy house: her own space, plush furniture, huge mirror, and a wardrobe to rival John Lewis. Here she was stuck in a pint-sized box with a saggy bed and yellowing curtains. She tried, at first, to be optimisticits only for now, things will turn aroundyet grim reality set in fast. Cramped space, ceaseless noise, dingy surrounds: it wore her down.
Desperate to escape, Beth clung ever tighter to her Simon. Where once he seemed a passport to a comfortable life, now he was her only hope of getting it back. In a hasty move, she married him. No grand fanfarethey registered the marriage, had a modest lunch with just a handful of well-wishers. Beth pinned her happiness on this new start; surely she was heading for the happily ever after shed dreamt of.
But within a year, cracks began to showand Rogers warning echoed in her ears. Simon changed sharply after the wedding: gone were the daily compliments and surprise flowers; his wallet, once routinely open for her entertainment, now required a crowbar. Worse, he started hinting forcefully that it was time she found gainful employmenteven though she was still in uni. Were a family now, Beth. Youve got to pull your weight too, he insisted.
Things slid rapidly. Beth concocted excuses for his behaviourmaybe just a rough patch, pressure at work, a phase? She tried to keep the peace, but arguments multipliedabout money, chores, or the ever-shifting plans for the future.
She thought a baby might ground him, make him nurturing and reliable. But when she floated the idea, Simon shot it down. Were not ready. Lets get sorted firstget our finances in order. Another sore point. Rows escalated, ending with accusations and resentment. Yet Beth pressed on, and before too long, they had a daughter. Almost at once, she realised she may have made a tremendous mistake.
The strain built. The constant tension and loneliness wore Beth thin. After months of will-I, wont-I, one morning, while Simon was out, she stuffed what she could into a bag: baby kit, spare babygro, a couple of essentials. Her hands trembled, but something in her steadiedshe felt relieved, oddly, to finally be moving.
Out she went, the pram bumping down the communal stairs into the crisp London air. Beth didnt care about the chill; the great unknown didnt feel as terrible as the certainty of unending strife.
She crawled back to her mums flat in Croydon: yellow curtains, squeaky hall, the lot. She brought only what she could manage: a few clothes, the folded pram, a bag of baby bits. Pauline, initially neutral, nodded and made bland comments as Beth rattled off the babys sleep habits while simmering something for dinner. But her patience, never endless, wore out quickly.
One night, after the baby had yet another tearful bedtime, Pauline slammed her mug on the table and turned to Beth.
Beth, this cant go on. I need quiet in my own home. Youll have to sort your own place.
Beth looked up from the cot in disbelief. Mum, where am I supposed to go? I cant afford rent right now. Ive just found a remote gig, but the pay is peanuts.
Not my problem, Pauline said, arms crossed. I raised you, got you through school, did my bit. Youre an adult; stand on your own two feet. Im not cut out for another round of night feeds.
Her voice was as final as a closing bank account. Beth shrank, hoping for a crumb of mercy.
But where do I go with an eight-month-old? she murmured.
Thats for you to figure out, sniffed Pauline, heading for the door. Ill give you a little to tide you over, but dont expect a standing order. Ive got my own life.
She tossed a few notesforty quid, maybeon the table and drifted off, leaving Beth alone but for the soft snuffling of her sleeping baby.
What now? Beths remote work was piecemealediting orders, typing bits, the odd freelance jobunsteady, always interrupted by feeds and nappy changes. Nurseries wouldnt take a baby so young, and her mum had decreed her freedom. Her days became a tired loop: baby care, laptop, baby care, cold instant coffee, baby care. She scrimpedon food, on cleaning stuff, even on socks. But there was never enough; rent, even for the grimmest bedsit, was a pipe dream.
Then she thought of Roger.
Roger. Of all the ghosts from her past, he was the one whod genuinely shown her kindness and care. Maybe hed soften? Maybe, faced with a baby granddaughter, hed melt?
Fuelled by this fragile hope, she bundled the baby in her best romper, packed a bottle and carried her round to Rogers new place. She pictured him welcoming them both, maybe holding the baby, maybe offering shelter
Roger answered in slippers and a faded T-shirt, holding a mug of tea. At the sight of Beth with pram, he didnt so much as blink. His faceno smile, no surprise.
Hello, Beth mumbled, all rehearsed lines deserting her. I well, I wanted to introduce you to your granddaughter.
She awkwardly held out the baby. Her daughter reached out a chubby hand, all innocence and gummy grins.
Roger set his mug on the corner table and eyed the baby, but kept his distancearms folded, face closed. He didnt move closer, didnt put out his hands.
I see, he said at last, eyes on Beth. Sowhat exactly do you want? Remind mearent I just a stranger to you? A dry half-smile, ice-cold. Your daughters as much a stranger to me as you are. What are you here for?
Beths insides knotted. Shed pictured a scene with hugs and forgiveness. The reality was granite. Staring at her shoes, she whispered, I was wrong. I was angry. Honestly, youre the only real dad Ive ever known, after Mum.
Roger silenced her. Close, was I? Funny, since you never looked my way after you left. Had you apologised thenmaybe. But after all this time? No. Youd best be on your way.
He took a step back. Conversation closed.
Stunned, Beth stood gripping the pushchair. She wanted to say moreto plead, explain, bargain for just a sliver of help. But she already knew, from the look on his face, that Roger had built a wall and bolted the door.
She turned and left, pushing the pram through the familiar, now distant, hallway. Each step heavier than the last, as if her shoes had filled with wet sand. She carefully avoided glancing around, unwilling to see old reminders that now felt so far away. Just one thought spun around her mind: Things could have been different
When the door closed behind her, Roger stayed rooted to the spot, unmoved even as their footsteps faded away. Only after several long minutes did he wander to the sofa, staring out at a rain-splattered street.
Beth found herself back on the pavement, cradling her tiny daughter, a hollow ache ballooning inside her. Guilt stungshed kept the one person who cared at arms length for years, and now, when she was lost, those bridges were long burned.
Her daughter fidgeted and whimpered, so Beth stopped to tuck in the blanket. The simple act anchored her. She straightened her back, taking in the lamplit hush of early evening. Now she had just one mission: her daughter. How, she didnt know. But it was up to her nowno more safety nets.
Beth dabbed at damp eyes with the back of her hand, arranged the babys hood, and started down the lane. The street was quietCroydon sleeping, streetlights flickering on, an occasional car swooshing by. She walked, unsure where she was headed at all, just moving forward because going back was unbearable.
Her head whirred with clashing anxieties: Where can I find a place? How can I scrape together a deposit? Should I ask for an advance from a client? Maybe a room in a hostel She forced herself not to spiral. Now it really was just her and her babyno Mum, no Roger, not even Simon. Just them.
The baby soon nodded off. Beth, catching sight of her peaceful little face, found a wan smile. Something shifted inside herfear still churned, but underneath it was a new determination. Shed manage, she had to.
Next morning, Beth fired up her ancient laptop, fresh resolve in tow. First, she contacted both her best clients with requests for early invoices. One promised a payment in three days, the other in a week. Second, she posted on every local group she could: looking for a budget room, anywhere, not fussy. Third, she applied at the Croydon Support Centre for any young-mum support schemes they had floating about.
Within a week, shed moved into a tiny room on the boroughs edge. Grim, perhaps, but clean and warm, with just enough space for the babys cot and a dodgy fold-out table for work.
The early weeks were rough. Sometimes she had only just enough for essentials; sometimes she was so tired she wanted to melt. But always, seeing her baby, Beth rememberedthere was no time for self-pity; they had each other.
Gradually, things began to settle. She built a chain of regular clients, became a budgeting ninja, even found a neighbour with a grown-up daughter happy to babysit for a small fee. Weekends meant walks in the park, feeding ducks and leaf collecting. Beth learnt to take joy from the small wins: a mug of strong tea, her babys giggle, her daughters first wobbly steps.
Once, passing the playground, she spotted Roger on a bench, reading his copy of The Times. Beth slowedbut didnt stop. Roger didnt look up, or if he did, he pretended not to see her. Beth just gripped the pram handle and kept moving.
Strangely, it didnt matter anymore. She didnt need his blessing, or his help. Shed made it. Not perfectly, not without hardship, but shed survived. And now she knew: even when it all seems hopeless, theres a way forwardespecially when youve got someone depending on you.
