“You’re not his real daughteryou’ve got no rights here,” her sister-in-law hissed at the funeral of her father.
“You’re not his real daughteryou’ve got no rights,” Allie spat through clenched teeth, standing beside the coffin holding her fathers body. “So dont expect anything.”
Faith flinched as if struck. She clutched a bouquet of white roses, unable to believe what shed just heard. Mourners continued to approach the coffin, whispering prayers and crossing themselves, while Allie glared at her with undisguised hatred.
“Allie, please, not here,” Faith murmured. “Dad hasnt even been buried yet.”
“Thats right*my* dad,” Allie emphasised. “His flesh and blood. And who are you? The charity case he took in out of pity.”
Faith placed the roses at the head of the coffin and stepped back. Her throat tightened, and tears welled in her eyes. Simon lay dressed in the white shirt shed picked out herself yesterday, his hands folded over his chest, his expression peaceful. He looked like he was only sleepingyet hed never open his eyes again, never wish her good morning, never stroke her hair the way he had for thirty years.
“Girls, whats all this?” Auntie Lou, their neighbour, approached with a frown. “Arguing at a funeralhave you no shame?”
“Nobodys arguing,” Allie dismissed her. “Just reminding some people of their place.”
Auntie Lou shook her head and moved away. Faith stood apart, feeling like an outsider among people shed known since childhoodneighbours, colleagues, distant relativesall gathered to pay their last respects. And suddenly, she realised she had no right to stand beside the *real* daughter.
“Faith, love, how are you holding up?” Nadine, a friend from work, approached and squeezed her arm.
“Thanks for coming,” Faith whispered, hugging her.
“Whys Allie glaring at you like that? Like youre the enemy.”
“She thinks I shouldnt have come.”
“What do you mean? You lived with Simon since you were a kid. He raised you.”
Faith nodded, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. She remembered being five years old when Simontall, kind, with greying hair and a deep voice that always carried the faint scent of tobaccobrought her home from the orphanage. Hed shown her a small room with a child-sized bed and said, “This is your home now.”
“Faith, come here,” Allie called abruptly.
Bracing for another barb, Faith approachedbut instead, Allie took her arm and steered her out of the funeral hall into the corridor.
“We need to talk,” Allie said once they were alone.
“About what?”
“The will. You understand the house and the cottage go to me, right? Im his only blood relative.”
Faith stared, bewildered. She hadnt even thought about inheritanceher mind was full of funeral arrangements, where to hold the wake, who to notify.
“Allie, can we discuss this after the funeral?”
“No, well do it now. Best to avoid misunderstandings later. Dad didnt leave a will, so it goes by lawand legally, first in line are spouses and children. You were neither.”
“But he adopted me,” Faith countered. “I have the papers.”
Allie scoffed. “Out of pity. And now what? You think you can mooch off me? Take the house in town?”
“I dont want the house,” Faith snapped. “Just his books and photos. The rest is yours.”
“Oh, I *bet*. They all say thatthen run straight to court.”
Faiths chest burned with hurt. Thirty years in this family, thirty years calling Simon *Dad*, thinking of Allie as a sisterand now she was nothing but an unwanted guest, tolerated out of obligation.
“You know what, Allie?” she said quietly. “I wont even argue. Do what you want. Just bury Dad properly.”
“*Youre* telling *me* how to bury my own father?”
“Yes. Because *I* lived with him these last yearsnot you. *I* looked after him when he was ill, while you dropped by once a month for half an hour.”
Allies face flushed. “*Im* his real daughter. *Youre* just some orphanage stray!”
The words cut deeper than any slap. Faith turned and walked back to the hall where Simons coffin stood.
By now, most mourners had leftonly close friends remained. The burial would be tomorrow, followed by the wake. Faith worried about the cost. The flat was too small, and booking a café would be expensive. Simons pension had never stretched far.
“Faith, love,” Uncle Colin, their neighbour, approached. “Ill bring the car tomorrow to help carry the coffin.”
“Thank you,” she said, gripping his hand gratefully.
“Dont let Allie get to you. Shes always been jealous. Remember when you first moved in? Shed scowl every time you walked past.”
Faith did. Those early months had been hard. Allie, already at university then, would visit on weekendshiding her things, banning Faith from her room, sweet as pie in front of their parents but cruel when alone.
Yet Simon had always defended her. “Shes family now,” hed tell Allie. “Love her like a sister.”
But time hadnt softened Allie. Marriage, childrennone of it changed how she saw Faith. Every visit carried the same message: *You dont belong here.*
Meanwhile, Simon grew older, frailer. Allie was always “too busy”work, kids, life. So Faith took him to appointments, cooked his meals, cleaned his flat.
“Faith, what would I do without you?” hed say. “Allies got her own life. But *you*youre a real daughter to me.”
—
That evening, exhausted, Faith returned to the empty flat. The silence was suffocating.
On the kitchen table lay the funeral paperworkdeath certificate, Simons passport, employment records. As she sorted through, her fingers brushed an envelope.
Her breath caught.
A *will*.
Hands shaking, she unfolded it. Simon had left the house and cottage to *both* daughters, equally. His signature and a notarys stamp confirmed itdated a year ago, after his heart attack, when survival wasnt certain.
Now she understood Allies panic. Shed hoped to claim *everything*.
—
The next morning, Allie called early.
“The service is at the crematorium,” she said briskly.
“No, its at St. Marys. Dad wanted a proper church funeral.”
“Since when?”
“Since always. Youd know if youd *talked* to him.”
“Enough!” Allie snapped. “*I* decide how hes buried!”
Faith inhaled sharply. “Allie, I found the will. So lets stop pretending youre in charge. The service is at ten.”
Silence. Then
“What will?”
“The one he signed last year. See you at the church.”
—
The rain had stopped, but the sky stayed grey as mourners gathered at St. Marys. Neighbours, colleagues, doctorsAllie stood apart with her husband and children, shooting venomous looks at Faith.
After the service, the hearse led the procession to the cemetery. Faith rode in front, clutching Simons favourite red carnations.
At the graveside, Allie bossed everyonedirecting where wreaths should go, how to lower the coffin. Faith stayed silent, watching the man whod been her father for thirty years disappear into the earth.
“Im sorry, Dad,” she whispered. “Sorry I couldnt save you.”
—
The wake was held at a café. Faith had taken out a loan to cover itAllie hadnt offered, though she earned plenty.
Over sandwiches and tea, guests shared stories. Simon had been a respected engineer, a widower whod poured all his love into his two girls.
“Remember when he brought Faith home from the childrens home?” Uncle Colin said. “Tiny thing, scared stiff. He picked her up and said, Now Ive got two daughters.”
Allies lip curled. “Dad was too soft-hearted.”
“He *loved* her,” Uncle Colin insisted. “Same as you.”
Faith cried silently. Simon *had* loved hernever treated her differently, never let her feel less than Allie. Hed paid for her education, given her his holiday cottage when she marriedthough that marriage ended badly, leaving her with nothing.
As guests left, Allie cornered her.
“Show me this *will*.”
Faith handed it over. Allie scanned it, scowling.
“He never told me.”
“Maybe he knew youd fight it.”
“Damn right Ill fight it!” Allie hissed. “An *adopted* child doesnt get equal shares!”
“Then take me to court,” Faith said wearily.
“Oh, I will
