I dont want to go to Dads anymore, my daughter said to me one Saturday long ago. Cant I just stay home? Tell him Im poorly, or that Ive got an exam on Monday, Mum?
I closed my notebook, setting aside the article Id been editing, and turned to look at her. Thirteen is a tricky age, I thought, these moods are nothing out of the ordinary.
But she used to adore visiting her father.
Especially after he married Helen. Sophie could hardly wait to spend weekends with themHelen baked the most lovely pies and cakes, and always seemed to be on Sophies wavelength.
Whats happened? I asked her. Have you quarreled with Dad, or is it something with Helen?
No, Mum, its all fine, really she hesitated, twisting a strand of hair. Im just tired of going back and forth every fortnight. Its miles across London, lugging my bag every time Can I please just stay at home?
That caught my attention. Sophie had never once moaned about the journeyher father, Tom, would always collect her himself in his shiny new Audi, which he bought the day after the divorce. She loved packing her things, delighted with her princess-like room at his placecanopy bed and all.
Sit down, love, I said, patting the spot beside me. Lets have a proper chat.
Reluctantly, my daughter perched on the edge of my bed, arms folded tight.
Mum I just dont want to go. Im entitled to decide, arent I? The judge said so.
The judge said you could share your opinion, sweetheart. But the grown-ups must make the final call. And, Sophie, your Dad loves youhe misses you.
At the word loves, Sophie flinched, and I knew then that something serious was amiss.
***
For the next two weeks, I watched Sophie like a hawk. She seemed diminishedher usual chatter silenced, barely touching her food. My Sophie, who could demolish a bowl of pasta and half a tub of ice cream in one sitting! Now she picked at her meals and spent hours shut in her room.
That Friday, Tom was meant to collect her; she locked herself in the bathroom for a full hour until I knocked.
Sophie, Dads here! Hes waiting, darling.
She emerged, face red and eyes puffy. Said she had a headache. I gave her a pill and kissed her forehead.
Ring me straight away if anything happens, all right? Any time.
She nodded and dragged herself off to the front door.
Tom eyed me, shaking his head. Poor childyouve worn her out.
Youre the one insisting she spends half the month with you! I snapped. All this shuttling aboutchildren need stability, not constant packing and unpacking!
Oh, spare me He grimaced. The court said two weeks a month, and thats final.
***
Once he led Sophie away, I was left with an uneasy feeling growing inside me. Something was very wrong.
Two weeks later, she returned; even paler, less chatty. She answered every question with just one word: Fine, Alright, Yes, No. I tried to draw her out at dinner, but she retreated further into silence.
Youve hardly touched your supper, I remarked.
Im not hungry she sighed. Helen and I ate at a restaurant.
That puzzled me. Even after a meal out, shed usually sneak a biscuit or two at home. I let it besomething was off, but she wouldnt say.
***
A month passed. Sophie lost a few pounds, circles under her eyes darkened. Her tutor rang, asking if shed been unwell. Turns out, Sophie nearly fainted in PE.
Enough, I thought. That evening, when Tom turned up for her again, I told him flatly,
Shes not going.
He frowned. Why not?
Shes ill.
Oh, come off it he scoffed. She looks perfectly fine.
Fine? When did you last look at her? Shes wasting away in front of you!
Tom rolled his eyes. All teenagers are skinny. Sophie, get your things.
My daughter stood in the hall, silent as ever. Then, suddenly, it dawned on me. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, looked her in the eye.
Sophie, does someone at Dads upset you?
She jolted, her eyes wide with fear.
No, Mum, truly! No ones nasty to me!
But Id read her face. That was all I needed.
Shes staying here, I told Tom firmly. Push me, and Ill ring the policesay youre mistreating her.
What?! He flushed. Ive barely laid a finger on her!
And what about your Helen?
At that, Sophie broke down. She clung to me, sobbing so hard her whole body shook. Tom just stood there, completely lost.
Once the tears eased, I drew her into her room and sat quietly beside her.
Tell me everything, darling.
And she did.
***
Turns out, Helen, when alone with Sophie, was cold and critical. At first, it was subtle:
Youve put on weight, maybe try smaller portions?
With cheeks like that, boys wont look twice at you.
Then came stricter measures:
Thats enough for you, dont gorge yourself.
Girls your age should eat like sparrows, not dockworkers.
Last month, she locked the fridge at night, claiming it was to stop Sophie sneaking snacks.
Mum, I swear I didnt! Honest! But Helen told Dad I scoffed everything at midnight, and he believed her. Told me to watch myself, said I was starting to look like
She faltered.
Like whom? I asked gently.
Like you, she whispered. He said youd let yourself go and that its why he left. He doesnt want me turning out the same.
I felt as if someone had doused me with cold water. So that was it. My forty-eight and soft edges had been the reason for our divorce. How blind I was
Why didnt you tell me? I asked softly.
Mum, you work so hard, youre always tired. I didnt want to trouble you. Besides, you always said Dad had the right to see me.
I held her tightly.
Darling, nobodynobodyhas the right to torment you. Not even your father. You wont go back, I promise.
***
I faced Tom, whod been pacing in the hall.
Alright, Tom, I said sharply. Your Helen starves my daughter and wrings her with body shame. If you defend her, Ill go to the police and social services. Ive got Sophies teachers note about her falling ill at school and soon Ill have the doctors report about her weight loss. Fancy a scandal for all of London? Ill make it happen.
His eyes flashed from surprise to genuine fear.
I I honestly didnt know, he muttered. Helen told me Sophie wanted to diet, like most teenagers
And you believed that? Have you ever seen Sophie on a diet? She eats heartily, always has!
IOh God, Emma, what should I do?
If you cant work this out, then heres how it will be: either Helen leaves your home for those two weeks Sophie stays, or youll lose all contact with your daughter. And dont start on about the courtIll make the judge notice, believe me. You choose.
He was silent for ages, then finally said,
Emma, would it bewould I perhaps be allowed to come here instead? Maybe collect Sophie for the cinema, or lunch, or walks at the weekend? I cant ask Helen to move out. Shed never understand.
She wont understand that its cruel to belittle a child? I shot back. Congratulations on your choice of wife, Tom.
He hung his head.
I thought about Sophie. She still needed a father, even if hed let her down. I agreed, on strict conditions: only public outings or visits to us. And if Sophie complained, it would all be over.
Tom listened. He comes by once a week now, takes Sophie out for the day and sends a video of their time together. What more can I do? Forbid him seeing his own daughter?
