**Diary Entry 15th October**
“You dont get to decide where my son lives,” my ex-wife snapped, stepping over the threshold.
“Dad, whens Mum coming?” asked Liam, setting aside his maths homework.
I looked up from the newspaper. At just eight years old, there was a sadness in his eyes no child should carry.
“I dont know, mate. She said shed visit this weekend, but its only Wednesday.”
“But is she really coming? Last time she promised, then rang to say she had ‘important things’ to do.”
I sighed. How do you explain to a child that his mother lives in another city now, with another man, and that hes become little more than an obligation to her? She visits once a month, buys him a toy, takes him to a café, then vanishes again.
“Shell come, Liam. She will.”
“Okay,” he said, picking up his textbook. “Can I watch telly later?”
“Homework first, then telly.”
I tried to focus on the paper, but my thoughts kept circling. Three years since the divorce, and I still hadnt got my life back on track. Work, home, Liamgroundhog day. My mates kept saying I should find a woman, start fresh, but how do you get close to someone when your boys always waiting for his mum?
By the time Liam closed his books, it was dark outside.
“Dad, whatre we having for dinner tomorrow?”
“Pasta. You like pasta.”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “And salad?”
“And salad. Cucumber.”
We headed to the kitchen. I pulled ingredients from the fridge while Liam perched on a stool, swinging his legs and chattering about school.
“Tom Burgess fell over in PE todayblood everywhere! The teacher took him to the nurse.”
“Hope hes alright?”
“Nah, just a plaster. Dad why do Toms parents come to parents evening together, and youre always on your own?”
I froze, knife halfway through the cucumber.
“Well Mum and I have different jobs, different lives.”
“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced.
After dinner, he brushed his teeth without fuss. I tidied up, made tea. The flat was quiet, the telly murmuring in the background.
The next day at work, my colleague Mark brought it up again.
“Dave, mate, let it go. She practically walked away! Showing up once a month doesnt make her a mum. Youre the one raising Liam. Youre a good dad.”
“You dont get it. Theres no time for anything. School runs, homework, bedtime stories. Weekends are laundry, shopping, cleaning.”
“Find a woman wholl help! Someone kind. Liam wouldnt mind a stepmum.”
“What if he hates her? What if she comes back and kicks off?”
“Shes not coming back,” Mark said, waving a hand. “If she wanted to, she wouldve by now.”
I didnt answer. Deep down, I knew he was right, but admitting it hurt.
That evening, the doorbell rang while Liam was doing homework. I checked the peepholeClaire, my ex-wife, stood there. I opened the door.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Course. Liam! Mums here!”
He bolted from his room, hurling himself at her. She hugged him awkwardly, like shed forgotten how.
“Youve got so tall!”
“Mum, are you staying long? Did you bring me anything?”
“Of course. But I need to talk to Dad first.”
Liam nodded and scampered off. Claire sat on the sofa while I hovered.
“Tea?”
“Please.”
I made it, brought two mugs. She looked wellnew haircut, expensive clothes. Life in Manchester suited her.
“Howve you been?” I asked.
“Good. Decent job, decent pay. You?”
“Alright. Liams doing well in school.”
She hesitated, then straightened.
“Dave I came to talk. Michael and I are getting married.”
“Congratulations.”
“And I want Liam to come live with me.”
The room tilted. My hands shook around the mug.
“What?”
“I want him with me. Im stable now, good job, Michaels fine with it. Youre just always at work. Hes alone half the time.”
“Claire, have you lost it? Liams settled hereschool, friends. And you”
“I what? I was young, scared. Now Im ready.”
“Ever ask Liam what *he* wants?”
“Hes a child. He doesnt know whats best. I can give him more.”
I stood, pacing.
“Claire, youve barely been in his life for three years. Monthly visits, when you bothered. Now suddenly you want him?”
“Ive got rights! Im his mother!”
“Mother?” I hissed. “Mothers stay up when their kids are sick. Help with homework, take them to the doctor. Whatve *you* done?”
“I was working! Building a life!”
“Right. And who built *his* life? Who”
“Keep your voice down!” she snapped.
I lowered it but not the fury.
“Why now? Why suddenly?”
She looked away.
“Michael wants kids. I cant have more. The doctors said. So we thought Liam could adjust.”
“Ah. Need a kid for the new bloke, so you remember youve got one. Convenient.”
“Dont be cruel. Ive missed him.”
“Missed him? Couldve fooled me. Forgot his birthday last year.”
“I was busy”
“Enough,” I cut in. “Everyone was busy. Liam grew up without you. Now you waltz in and claim him?”
Footsteps padded down the hall. Liam peered in.
“Mum, are we going out? The cinema?”
She forced a smile.
“Of course, love. Just need to finish talking with Dad.”
He vanished. Claire waited, then continued:
“Dave, Ive made up my mind. Ill go to court if I have to. Ive got the means. What do you have? A rented flat, an average job”
“Ive got love for my son. Do you?”
“Of course! I just dont show it like you.”
“Or dont *feel* it?”
She stood, grabbed her handbag.
“Ill give you till tomorrow. If you agree, well keep it civil. If not courtll decide.”
“You dont get to decide where my son lives,” I said, steady.
“Hes *my* son too!” she flared. “Ive got every right!”
“Rights are earned.”
She headed out, then turned.
“Liam! Come say goodbye!”
He ran to hug her.
“Mum, will I see you tomorrow?”
“Of course, love.”
When the door shut, Liam frowned.
“Dad were you fighting?”
“No. Just grown-up talk.”
“Mum seemed upset.”
I pulled him onto the sofa.
“Liam honestly. Would you want to live with Mum?”
He thought.
“Where does she live?”
“Manchester. Far away.”
“What about school? And Tom? And Gran?”
“Different school, new friends.”
He shook his head.
“Dont wanna. I wanna stay with you. Visit Mum sometimes.”
“Okay, son. Okay.”
That night, I couldnt sleep. Claire would return tomorrow. What then? Fight her in court? Could I afford a solicitor?
At breakfast, Liam asked:
“Dad if Mum takes me, will you be sad?”
I knelt, looked him in the eye.
“Liam, no ones taking you. Were family, understand?”
“Yeah. But Mum?”
“Shes family too. Just living apart.”
“Like Auntie Jane?”
“Something like that.”
At school, I spoke with his teacher.
“Hes a bright boy,” Mrs. Thompson said. “Well-liked. But he gets quiet sometimes. Probably misses his mum.”
“Were divorced.”
“I see. Ever thought of remarrying? Stability helps.”
I said Id consider it.
Claire returned at seven. Liam rushed to her, but she held him back.
“Love, go to your room. Dad and I need to talk.”
“Go on, mate,” I said.
Alone, she cut to it:
“Well?”
“Ive decided. Liam stays with me.”
“Dave, be reasonable. I can give him more!”
“More *love*?”
“Of course!”
“Then whyd you vanish for three years?”
She exhaled.
“Fine. Court it is. But know thisMichaels backing me. Ive got the funds.”
“Still wont ask Liam, will you?”
“Whats *he* got to do with it? Adults decide.”
“Liam! Come here!”
He sat between us.
“Your mum wants you to live with her. What dyou think?”
He glanced at her, then me.
“Is it far?”
“Quite far,” Claire said. “But its nicebig house, your own room.”
“Ive got my own room here.”
“Its better there.”
“Will Dad come?”
“No. Dad stays here.”
Liam shook his head.
“Dont wanna. Dad takes me to school, helps with homework, reads stories.”
“Ill do all that!”
“Can you make pancakes? Play chess? Fix my bike?”
She faltered.
“Ill learn”
“No,” he said firmly. “I wanna stay with Dad. Visit you sometimes.”
Claires face twisted.
“Youve turned him against me!”
“Dad never said you were bad!” Liam protested. “He says youre just busy.”
She sank down, face in her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were red.
“I thought hed *want* to be with me.”
“Do *you* want him?” I asked softly. “Or does Michael just need a ready-made kid?”
She was silent a long time.
“I dont know,” she admitted. “I want to, but what if I fail? What if he hates me?”
“Mum, I *do* love you,” Liam said. “I just wanna live here.”
She hugged him, crying.
“Alright. Stay with Dad. But can I visit more?”
“Always,” I said.
“And call?”
“Whenever.”
She kissed Liam, stood.
“Id better go. Michael needs to know.”
“Mum youre not mad?”
“No, sweetheart.”
After she left, Liam stared out the window, watching her taxi disappear.
“Dad will she *really* visit more?”
“I think so. She loves you.”
“Then whyd she want to take me from you?”
“Grown-ups get confused, mate. Think they know best when they dont.”
“Right. Dad can we get pizza tonight? Not pasta?”
“Deal.”
A week later, Claire called. Spoke to Liam for agesschool, friends, weekend plans. Promised to visit in a fortnight.
A month after that, I met a woman in the park. Anna, divorced, raising her daughter Sophie alone. Liam and Sophie hit it off straight away, swinging and giggling.
“Dad,” he whispered as we walked home, “Sophies nice. And her mum.”
“Yeah.”
“Can we see them again?”
“Sure.”
And it struck memaybe Mark was right. Life moves on. Ive a right to happiness, so long as Liams happy. And judging by his grin, talking non-stop about Sophie, he was.
