I raised Annie all by myself. Her wayward mothera dancer, of all thingsfell head over heels for a colleague six years ago, packed her bags, and bolted to Paris. At the time, our daughter had just turned seven.
Go on, have a look at your little wild child, my neighbour chided. Shes off with some ruffians again. Theyve ruined the whole playground, I dont mind telling you.
Mrs. Barker, always with a flair for drama, shook her head in disapproval.
If only I could have them all locked up and the keys thrown in the Thames! Wheres Churchill when you need him?
As far as I recall, Mrs Barker, you werent around during Churchills days either, were you?
Oh, cheeky devil!
I retreated into my flat, ignoring her shouting in the corridor and her attempts to ring our doorbell. Id head to the window, squint at the darkness, open it just a crack, and from outside would come a strummed guitar and some ragged singing, interrupted by bouts of laughter. I trusted Annie, but Mrs Barker could really get under my skin. Id grab my phone and ring my contact My Clever Girl.
Yes, Dad?
How much longer are you going to be out?
Whats the matter?
Come home and show me your diary!
Annie would snort and reply, You let me stay out till eleven, remember? The diarys on the table, have a look yourself. And say hi to Mrs Barker.
What could I possibly have to complain about? Annies diary was a straight column of As. The house was spotless. Shed even learned to cookat first everything came out a bit odd, but she saved her pocket money and bought a cookbook, something like The Million Meals, and spent Saturday mornings experimenting in the kitchen. Evenings were for her friends, but her days belonged to home.
Why do you hang out with them? Id ask. Mrs Barker says theyre troublemakers.
Annie would sigh and explain, as if to an idiot, Were just all a bit left out. You know, single-parent families and all. Its what brought us together. None of us are to blame for having parents who never quite got the hang of responsibility. Trouble? Were learning guitar, doing chin-ups. We dont smoke, and we dont drink.
Mrs Barker says you make a mess.
Oh, Dad, you believe anything that old bat says!
Annie! Shes an adult. Show some respect.
Respects for clever people. If its true, whats so wrong with saying it?
Annie, why cant you just be friends with your classmates, like most normal kids?
Shed wrinkle her nose and say, Its boring. And Dad, we really dont do anything wrong! You know me.
And I did. Still, Annies age worried mea teenage girl, after all. Today shes perfect, tomorrow who knows?
Why was Annie saved in my phone as My Clever Girl? Thats exactly why. Shed lost her mum early, had to grow up fast, and schoolwork was a breeze for her. Had a knack for the domestic stuff too, once she got the hang of it. Annie liked feeling grown-up and responsible. She never asked about her mum. Not once, since the day Natasha, all awkward, tried to explain to her daughter some rubbish about being a creative spirit, inspiration, and artists journey, all just fancy words masking her flightiness, to put it mildly. As for marrying Natasha in the first placethats another mystery I prefer not to revisit. So, Annie and I never talked about her runaway mother.
One day, I tried my luck at a relationship with Claire, a quantity surveyor from the office. She was thirty, single, and pleasantly plump, and didnt mind that I had a child. Annie, not exactly thrilled about spending weekends at Grandmasshe didnt like Gran fussing over hergot sent off so I could finally bring Claire home.
What a gem your daughter is! Claire exclaimed, admiring the tidy flat. You can tell theres a womans touch. How old is she?
Fourteen now.
How old was she when your wife left?
Seven years ago. Oh, lets not go into it. Come here
Claire worried that Annie might not take to her, but I hoped she would. Annie got fed up with Gran and headed home. Mum tried to warn me she was on her way, but my phone was blissfully lost in my jacket pocket and I didnt hear a thing. Claire was busy washing, cooking, cleaning, while I watched football at full volume. Nearly fell off the sofa when my daughter marched into the room, glanced at Claire singing away in the kitchen, grabbed the remote, turned down the telly, and announced grandly:
Why are there red parachutes drying on the balcony?
Claire was terribly offended and never came back. We kept dating at her place for a while, then the whole thing fizzled out.
You ruined my love life! Id mock-complain to Annie.
Dad, who needs a wife who hangs her knickers out for the world to see? Anyway, theyre all the same. Sail away and leave you stranded. But Ill never leave you!
We laughed. We genuinely had a good thing going, the two of us. Why does one have to be married, after all? Whats the rush?
Then, when Annie was sixteen, we got the shock of a lifetime: someone buzzed the door early one morning. I was in the kitchen having coffee, Annie sleepily shuffled out of the loo in her pyjamas and waved at me.
Enjoy breakfast, Dad. Ill get it.
No sooner had I returned to the kitchen than I heard odd cooing noises, quickly cut off by Annies firm command: Stop! Enough. Just be quiet for a minute.
She came in and said, without looking at me, Its for you. Then disappeared into her room and locked the door.
I went to the corridor and there stood Natasha, dragging an enormous suitcase in.
Hello, Simon. My word, Annies grown! Practically a bride now. Give us a hand, will you?
Mrs Barker poked her head out, started to say something, but closed her mouth and looked at me with wild sympathy.
Morning, Mrs Barker, Natasha chimed.
Mrs Barker spat and slammed her door.
What are you doing here? I asked, voice rough.
Simon, whats up? Ive just stepped off the plane. Brought gifts.
I said nothing.
Er where shall I put this, then?
I turned and went back to my coffee. My mind was scrambled, my eyes cloudy, my ears humming. Natasha, after nine years, hadnt changed a bit. Why on earth was she here?
She managed to drag her stuff inside, traipsed through the kitchen in her shoeswhere Annie had just mopped last night.
Simon, whats wrong? Not pleased to see me?
So, finished with your creative journey, have you? We werent expecting you. Off you go, back to wherever you came from.
But a girl needs her mother, Natasha mumbled, sounding painfully daft.
Seriously? For nine years she didnt, apparently. I got up and knocked on Annies door. She answered with headphones on.
What? she asked, taking one earphone out. Im listening to a law lecture.
Annie was planning to study law.
I didnt want to interrupt. What should we do about her?
Annie took off the other earphone and let me in, closing the door behind us.
You want my opinion?
Yes! Of course. Were family!
Exactly. We arethe two of us. She isnt. Blood doesnt make a family. Shes not part of us. I dont need her here, Dad, but its your call.
You dont want your mum?
A mum would be nice. But is that a mum?
Fair point. The trouble was, Natasha and I had never actually divorced. She was still officially registered at our address. I explained this to Annie.
Turns out, I cant just chuck her outby law. Youre the legal expert here, right?
How could you not get divorced after all these years?!
I suppose it never seemed necessary
Annie gave me a hug, letting me know she was on my side, that we were a team and could handle anything together.
Natasha lingered, honestly trying to fit into our family. One day, coming home from work, I overheard a kitchen conversation:
Will you really never forgive me? Natasha sobbed. Im your mum. I was young and foolish, I know I messed up!
But you havent changed! Sure, Ill forgive you. Dad will forgive you. Then youll wag your tail and swan off to Europe all over again.
No, not this time! Daughter
I was standing by the kitchen door by then. Natasha reached out, tried to hug Annie, but Annie wouldnt let her.
No! Im a hedgehog. Never again will I roll over for you, Mum!
The word Mum was loaded with such bitterness and sarcasm, it made me shudder. Poor Annie! Despite all her calmness, what pain she must carry every daythe pain of a hedgehog whose soft belly has been pierced.
Natasha soon left. Before she went, she asked if I wanted a divorce. I did. So we got divorced pretty quickly. Where my creative ex wentI havent the faintest idea. Why she came back at allits a mystery. We never saw or heard from her again.
Life settled back into its normal groove. Annie studied, managed the house, spent evenings with her so-called troubled friends. Maybe she even had a boyfriendI wasnt sure. But I knew one thing: I could trust her. We were family.
Get married, Dad, she suggested once. I want you to be happy. And sorry about Aunt Claires parachutes.
We spent the evening giggling over that story. Reminisced and cracked up all over again.
How I managed itor whether I had anything to do with it at allI dont know. But Annie grew up a wonderful person. She made her dream happen. She studied law, dated a fellow student, George. Hed visit and I liked him: a good, solid chap. But when I asked if she planned to marry him, Annie replied, Career first, Dad. Everything else can wait.
Dont you want a family? I thought all girls did.
I had a sneaking suspicion Annie was scared of becoming a rubbish mothera cuckoo, like Natasha.
Dad, all in good time. Ill get married someday, maybe even properly, for life. I hope so. As for familyI have one. With you. Youre my family, Dadthe best and most beloved.
Now, and always, I felt exactly the same. But try as I might, I couldnt keep the tears at bay.
