It isnt a passing fancy, Victoria, David said, nervously twirling a pencil across the cramped desk.
If this is a joke, its a terribly sour one, she replied, bewildered.
For weeks shed felt a wrong note humming in the background of her marriage. David was always buried in his consultancyfrequent trips to Manchester, late nights at the office, the constant buzz of pressure. And now a girl? Where had she come from?
Its serious. Its my reality. In fact, its ours now.
He rose, his steps slow, and drifted toward the rainspattered window.
What? Victoria gasped. Weve been together for twentysix years. Two grown sons studying abroad. Weve always been the pictureperfect family. And you tell me you have a fifteenyearold daughter? Did I hear right?
You heard right, Victoria. But theres more.
She froze, like a statue caught in a sudden gust, unsure how to move.
Shell be living with us from next week. No debate, no alternatives.
Youre imposing this on me without even asking my opinion. If I dont agree, Im free to leave, is that it?
Dont make a drama of it. Im not filing for divorce. Things just fell into place, David murmured, voice weary as an old piano.
If thats all youve said, Im out. I have to get back to work, even though my lunch break is long over, Victoria answered, voice as cold as the morning fog.
Leave, David said bluntly, never taking his eyes off the glass.
She slipped out of the office, emotions tightly clasped, her head spinning like a carousel.
Victoria Lawrence, are you alright? Would you like a glass of water? the secretary asked, concern softening her tone.
No, thank you. Call a cab, I cant drive, Victoria snapped.
In five minutes a black cab will be waiting at the main entrance, the young woman replied.
Thank you, Victoria said, stepping into the lift, finally letting her tears fall like rain on a tin roof.
She dialed.
Susan, I wont be at the office today. Cancel all my meetings. Do what needs doing.
Twenty minutes later she stood outside her motherinlaws cottage on the outskirts of Surrey.
Margaret, did you know David has a daughter with another woman? Victoria asked, voice edged with accusation.
The older woman sighed, her shoulders folding like an old coat.
Yes, I know. I met the girl when she was eleven. Remember my heart attack? David was terrified, and it was my turn to tell you for the sake of my granddaughter.
You already call her your granddaughter? Victoria retorted, sarcasm sharp as a winter wind.
And what do you suggest? Cast the child out? Margaret answered calmly. If Id known fifteen years ago, Id have moved mountains to stop this. But the childs blood runs with Davids.
Victoria stared at Margaret, hurt blooming like a bruise.
Why didnt you tell me?
To spare you the pain youre feeling now, Margaret whispered.
Victoria broke into sobs and clutched Margaret to her chest.
Itll be alright, love. Youre strong.
I owe nothing to anyone! Victoria shouted suddenly. He built another life and now Im expected to forgive and accept?
You need to talk to David, hear the whole story, Margaret advised.
Right now I cant even look at him.
A week slipped by in a haze. They stopped speaking. One afternoon David brought the girl home.
Come in, love, this is where youll stay now. And this is Victoria Lawrence, your second mother.
Victoria clenched her fists, forced a smile.
Delighted to meet you.
The girls blue eyes stared back at Victoria, an exact mirror of Davids.
Me too. I hope we become friends.
Poppy, polite and bright, settled into the house within weeks, while Victoria kept a frosty distance from David.
Days later Victoria filed for divorce. Margaret stood beside her.
I would have done the same, Margaret admitted.
Poppy suffered terribly. Victoria decided to speak with her.
Poppy, please, lets talk.
The girl sobbed.
Mom, dont go. I love you.
Victoria held her tightly.
And I love you, dear.
The next morning Victoria entered Poppys bedroom.
Get up. Well have breakfast and then head out.
Where to?
A surprise.
Twenty minutes later the two were walking down a cobbled lane.
Where are we? Poppy asked.
Victoria stopped, a smile flickering like sunrise through fog.
Were going to see your mother. Well buy her flowers and thank her for you.
Poppy clutched Victorias waist, the dream drifting on, the street melting into a watercolor of misplaced memories.
