I was thinking we were friends, and then you ran off with my husband.
You just dont get it! You wont understand! Pollys voice cracked into a shout, and she slammed her sketchbook shut. To you its all just doodles, childish games!
Polly, thats not what I meant, Maggie said wearily, pressing her palms to her temples. The headache that had started that morning was now pounding in the back of her skull. Im just trying to say that being a designer is a shaky gig. One day youve got work, the next youve got nothing. Accounting is a solid loaf of bread. Always.
Your loaf of bread! Not mine! Polly leapt from her chair, eyes flashing. I dont want to spend my whole life hunched over numbers like you! I want to create, to make beautiful things! Aunt Lucy gets me, shes the only one who believes in my talent!
Mentioning Lucy made Maggies chest tighten. Lucy again. Her best mate, her rock in the darkest times, had become more of a role model for her daughter than Maggie herself.
Lucy lives in a different world, love. She runs her own successful salon, she can afford to talk about lofty ideas. And were just getting by from paycheck to paycheck.
Exactly! Polly shouted, grabbing her coat and bolting for the door. Im not going to live like that!
The front door slammed, and a ringing silence settled over the tiny twobedroom flat in Manchester. Maggie dropped into a chair, clutching her head. Every argument drained the last of her strength. She was fortyfive, and for the past ten years shed been shouldering everything alone. After Ian, her husband and Poppys dad, walked out, leaving a pile of unpaid bills and a vague sorry, weve grown apart, life turned into an endless scramble for survival. She worked at the community library, took odd jobs transcribing texts at night, and gave up everything just to make sure Poppy had what she needed.
Lucy had been there since school, sitting next to her at the same desk. Bright, selfassured Lucy and quiet, homebound Maggie. When the divorce hit, it was Lucy who stopped her from sinking into despair. Shed show up with groceries, drag Maggie out for walks, listen for hours to her tears and rants. Dont worry, love, well get through this, shed say, hugging her tight. Hell kick himself when he realises what hes lost.
And Maggie believed it. She pulled herself together, kept goingfor her daughters sake. Lucy had become almost family, a godmothertype figure for Poppy, the Aunt Lucy who always seemed to understand.
Maggie sighed and padded over to the window. The city lights were flickering on. Somewhere out there her angry daughter was probably wandering to Lucys cosy studio in the city centre, the place that always smells of pricey coffee and fancy hair products, where soft music hums and you can talk about art without worrying about the water bill.
The kitchen phone buzzed. Maggie picked it up. A text from Lucy: Poppys with me. Dont worry, Ill talk to her. All will be fine. A mix of irritation and gratitude washed over her. Part of her was relieved that Poppy was safe, part of her bristled that Lucy kept stepping in as the peacemaker, as if Maggie couldnt handle her own child.
She poured herself a cheap bagoftea and sat down. Her eyes fell on an old framed photo: the three of themMaggie, Ian, and a chubbycheeked Poppy on her hip. Young, happy. It felt ages ago. Ian sometimes she could barely picture his face: tall, darkhaired, crinkly eyes, a lover of jazz, strong coffee, travel books. Hed left one evening, saying he needed time alone, and a week later called to say he wasnt coming back.
Lucys voice floated in her memory, smoothing her arm and saying, Hes a fool, Maggie, just a fool. Youll find someone new. But Maggie never did. Everything after that revolved around Poppy.
The next few days were a tense quiet. Poppy came home from school, ate, then shut herself in her room. Maggie didnt want to be the one to start a fight. On Saturday morning Lucy rang.
Hey, love! Ive got a crisishealth inspectors are due, and my cleaners sick. Could you pop over and give me a hand? Ill owe you one. And maybe you and Poppy can patch things up; she was about to head over anyway.
Maggie hesitated, feeling guilty and indebted, but the thought of finally talking to her daughter on neutral ground tipped the scales.
Alright, Ill be there in an hour.
Lucys salon The Gilded Lily greeted her with sparkling mirrors and a whiff of floral perfume. Lucy, immaculate in a sleek trousersuit, met her at the door.
Maggie, youre a lifesaver! she kissed Maggies cheek. Change into something comfortable; I just need the front area dusted and the main floor mopped. Ill sort the paperwork. Poppy will be here soon.
Maggie slipped into an old tee in the back room and started mopping. She didnt envy Lucys success; Lucy had always been driven, earned everything she had. Yet standing amid the glossy world of beauty and plenty, Maggie felt her own instability sharp as ever.
She was just finishing the floor when Poppy stormed in, eyes narrowed at the sight of her mum with a mop.
Mum, we need to talk, Maggie said quietly.
About what? Me giving up my dream to go to some boring college?
No. About us.
Lucy peeked out of her office, holding two phoneshers and a clientsstill charging.
Oh, girls, dont fight! she smiled that disarming grin. Maggie, dont be mad at her; shes just a kid with big ambitions. Poppy, mum only wants the best for you. How about a cuppa? Ill brew your favourite with a dash of cinnamon.
She set the phones on the receptionist desk and disappeared into the staff room. Maggie sighed. Another dead end. Poppy stared at her phone, while Maggies eyes landed on Lucys phone, which suddenly lit up with a short message from a contact simply signed I. Missing your coffee and you. A tiny red heart flickered beneath.
Maggies heart skipped. I. Ian? No, that didnt make sense. Lucy had mentioned a new flinga divorced, complicated manbut could it be Ian? The thought was absurd, yet it lingered.
The conversation with Poppy never happened that day. They sipped coffee while Lucy chattered about the latest hair trends, Poppy nodded, and Maggie sat in a growing silence, the strange message looping in her mind.
Later at home she dug out an old address book, found Ians numbernever dialled it in years. She hesitated, wondering what shed even say. Hi, its me. How are you? Silly, she thought, then put the phone back.
A few days later Lucy invited them to the cinema. In the dim hall, a romantic comedy played while Maggie kept stealing glances at Lucy, who kept tapping away on her phone. Every now and then shed glance at the screen and spot the same I. initial in the recipient field.
After the film they stopped at a café.
Oh, Maggie, Im over the moon! Lucy gushed, stirring sugar into her tea. I think Im really in love. Hes reliable, clever I feel like Im behind a stone wall with him.
Were happy for you, Aunt Lucy, Poppy said. Who is he? Do we know him?
No, not really, Lucy replied quickly, eyes darting away. Hes not from our circle. We met by chance. Hes just moved back to town after working up north for years.
North Ian had taken a roving job up in the oil fields after the divorce. Maggie had heard it through mutual friends. Coincidence? Too many coincidences. A cold shiver ran down Maggies spine.
Whats his name? she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Ian, Lucy answered, then switched topics: Oh, Poppy, I saw an advert for a prestigious art school taking prep students. Maybe you could apply? I could fund it.
Maggies mind was elsewhere. Ian. It fit the picture perfectly. Her best friend, the woman whod soothed her after the split, was now dating her exhusband, subtly nudging Poppy toward impossible dreams. It felt like a betrayal painted in bright colours.
Poppys voice snapped her out of the haze.
Mum, whats wrong? You look pale.
Nothing, Maggie muttered. Just a headache. Lets go home.
Back in their flat, Maggie locked herself in the bathroom, turned the tap on full blast, hoping Poppy wouldnt hear her sobbing. The tears were harsh, scalding. It wasnt just about Ian; it was about a friendship torn apart, about trusting someone who turned out to be a doubledealer.
She knew she had to act, but not with a scene or accusationthat would be too easy, too cheap. She decided to wait for proof.
A week later Lucys birthday came around. She threw a party at a countryside restaurant and, of course, invited Maggie and Poppy.
You must come, Maggie! she babbled on the phone. Ill introduce you to my Ian. Youll love him!
Maggie felt a weight on her chest.
Fine, well be there.
The day was a blur. She chose a dress, did her hair, applied makeup, and when she looked in the mirror she barely recognised the woman staring backher eyes glittered with a feverish shine. Poppy, clueless, flitted around excitedly.
The restaurant was posh: live band, white tablecloths, guests in smart attire. Lucy, radiant in a silver dress, floated from guest to guest. Spotting them, she swooped over.
Finally! Come in, darlings! Maggie, you look stunning! Ill bring Ian right over!
Ian appeared, older now with a touch of grey at his temples, but unmistakably the same Ian. He froze when he saw Maggie, a mix of surprise, shame, and something like fear flashing across his face.
Maggie? he murmured.
Hello, she said coldly, meeting his gaze.
Lucy looked back and forth, bewildered.
So you know each other?
More than you think, Maggie replied with a bitter smile. Hes my exhusband. Poppys father.
A heavy silence fell. The music seemed to stop. All eyes were on the three of them. Lucys face went as white as a sheet. Poppys eyes darted between her mum, Ian, and her beloved Aunt Lucy, confusion written all over.
Mum, is this true? she whispered.
Yes, love. Hes your dad.
Maggie stepped toward Lucy, who clutched Ians arm as if afraid hed vanish.
Happy birthday, Lucy, Maggie said softly, but firmly. I thought we were friends. Turns out you were not only comforting me after my marriage fell apart, you were also stealing what Id lost. How easy was that? Dating my exhusband behind my back while you were supposed to be my confidante?
Maggie, I I didnt know how to say it, Lucy stammered. It just happened we met six months ago, he never told me
Hes your friends husband? Maggie cut in. I cant believe you.
She turned to Ian.
And you? Youve been a coward all along. You left one woman, ran to another. Nothing changes.
She grabbed Poppys hand. The girls eyes were wide, brimming with tears.
Lets get out of here, love. We dont belong in this place.
They slipped out through the crowd, guests staring. At the doorway, Maggie looked back: Lucy stood alone, bewildered, while Ian kept his head down, avoiding their gaze.
The drive home was silent. Once inside, Poppy broke down.
Mum, how could Aunt Lucy? And dad?
Maggie held her close, smoothing her hair.
Shh, darling, shh. People do terrible things, even the ones we love. The important thing is we still have each other.
That night they stayed up in the kitchen, Maggie spilling the story of her life with Ian, of her friendship with Lucy, leaving nothing hidden. Poppy listened, and the childish hurt in her eyes softened into an adult understanding.
The next day Lucy stopped calling. Maggie ignored the flood of apologetic messages. A few days later Ian stood at their doorstep.
Maggie, we need to talk, he said, eyes downcast.
Theres nothing to discuss, she snapped. Leave.
But Poppy Im her father!
You only remembered that now? Ten years of nothing. Go, Ian. Dont come back.
She shut the door in his face, leaning against it, heart poundingnot from pain, but from relief. The massive weight shed carried for years finally lifted.
Life went on. It was hard. The void after Lucys betrayal was hard to fill. Sometimes, late at night, her hand reached for the phone, wanting to call an old friend, to gossip, but she stopped herself. That friend was gone.
Her relationship with Poppy changed. They grew closer than ever. Poppy matured overnight, stopped demanding the impossible, started helping around the house, even picked up a side gigpainting portraits online.
One evening Poppy placed a small envelope on the table.
Here, Mum. Its for the prep class. I earned it myself.
Maggie looked at her daughters serious, grownup face, tears welling up.
Youre my pride, she whispered.
No, Mum, youre my pride, Poppy answered, hugging her tightly. Youre the strongest person I know.
Maggie held her daughter, feeling that she hadnt lost everything. Shed lost a friend and a dream, but shed gained something far richerher childs love and respect. And that was all that mattered. The road ahead would be tough, but together, mother and daughter would get through it, hand in hand.
