**A Horrible Discovery**
It all came out by sheer chance. My little four-year-old sister, Daisy, had developed an umbilical hernia. The doctors said not to delaythe sooner the operation, the better. But Daisy refused point-blank to go to the hospital without Dad. We waited for him to return from his lorry route, and he walked her all the way to the operating theatre.
“Daddy, will you wait for me here?” my sister sobbed.
“Where else would I go, love? Of course, Ill wait. Why are you crying? Youre my brave girl.”
“Im not crying! Im just sighing!”
And with that, they took her away. A simple, routine procedure. But the hospital insisted Mum and Dad donate blood firstit was mandatory.
“But only one of us is a match, surely,” Dad said. “Shouldnt you test first? So we dont waste any.”
“Theres no such thing as wasted blood,” the doctor said firmly.
So they gave blood. Mum went pale, swaying like she might faint any second. Afterward, she couldnt sit stillkept darting off to the nurses station, chatting anxiously. When Daisy was finally wheeled out, Dad went to meet her, just as hed promised. He stayed with her the whole weekend. Mum seemed calmer by thenvisited Daisy, then dragged me home despite my protests.
“I could stay with her too,” I insisted stubbornly.
I was eleven by then. Daisy, my little blonde sister, was the person I loved most in the world. Maybe even more than Mum and Dad. How could anyone not adore her? She was an angel. A golden-haired little angel in the flesh.
Picture a small market town with its modest hospital. New, well-equippedeven had a blood bank, fancy that. But a small town is still a small town. Three days later, Daisy was home, and Dad was packing for another haul. He popped out for cigarettesbut came back looking like a thundercloud.
“Daddy,” Daisy wailed from her room (she was still on bed rest), “did you bring my marshmallows?”
Dad left the shopping bag in the hallway. Told me sharply to go to Daisys room. He took Mum by the elbow and steered her into the kitchen.
“Tom Tom, whats wrong?”
What followed was a conversation I wouldnt understand for years. Daisy was too young, and I obeyed Dad without question. Off to her room I went. She sniffled, demanding Daddy and her sweets, so I offered to read to her. Thank God, she agreed.
In the kitchen, Tomeyes wildbacked Mum, Jane, against the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.
“Is it true? Daisy isnt mine?”
“WhatTom, have you lost your mind? How could you say that?”
“Ill tell you how. Im A-positive. Youre O-positive. And her” he jerked his head toward the door, “is B-negative. If theres been a mix-up, fine. Well test again.”
Jane shoved him aside, slumped at the table, and dropped her head into her hands with a groan.
“Bastards. I *told* them! Why do they always interfere? Theyre jealous, Tom. Weve got everythingeven perfect little children.”
“Told them, did you? Right. Crystal clear.”
He walked out, leaving Jane weeping in the kitchen. Just one slip out of boredom with that engineer on his business trip. Tom was always away driving. In films, lorry drivers are romantic. In real life? Just lonely and cold. Jane told herself he probably wasnt faithful eitherweeks on the road, who could blame her? She jumped up to chase himbut he was already gone. Only the box of marshmallows remained on the table.
After his next haul, Dad sat me down for a serious talk. Asked me to come with him.
“Dad, what aboutDaisy? Mum? Cant you stay?”
It felt like a slab of concrete had settled on my shoulders. Rocks are made of layersId seen documentaries. The weight crushing me was no different. Fear of losing Dad. Fear of choosing. Either way, Id lose someone. Crunching the numbers, I chose to stay. Daisy + Mum outnumbered Dad. Though in truth, just Daisy mightve tipped the scales.
Dad met me often after that. Daisy, thoughit was like hed forgotten her. I didnt understand, but I trusted him: if he could explain, he would. At first, Daisy moped and criedit hurt to watch. Then she asked about him less and less, retreating into her toys. I didnt know why this punishment had fallen on her, but I could guess. As for Mum
Mum lost it. Started dragging junk home from the skip. First, harmless bitsthings that might be useful. Then just everything. She stopped caring about us entirely, hunched over her hoard, muttering and sorting. How a pretty, lively woman could become *that* in just eighteen monthsI couldnt fathom. But I never told Dad. Our neighbour, Mrs. Harris, looked after us sometimes. I managed basics with the child support. But the reek soaking our flat? School was torturekids snickeringbut I kept my head down.
“Mrs. Harris, can you teach me to iron?” I knocked on her door.
“Oliver, love, you need to *wash* things first” She wrinkled her nose.
“Pointless. I do wash them. But Dads picking me up tomorrow, and I cant look like this”
“Waithe doesnt” She gaped. “He doesnt know about Jane?”
“I wont tell him. He left. Its not his problem!”
She let me in, then paused. “Bring Daisy too. Ill get you both sorted. And bring your clotheschange here. Least I can do”
So we did. At least I didnt reek like a tramp at school anymore. But kind Mrs. Harris wasnt done. She went to Dad and shamed him. He met me after school.
“Why didnt you say anything?”
“Would you have come back?”
“No. But you couldve lived with me.”
“And Daisy?”
Silence. I shook my head and turned toward home.
“Wait! Daisy could stay with your nan.”
“Nans got a new bloke. Shes not interested.”
“Right. Takes after her mum, then” Dad cut himself off.
He did try talking to Nan.
“Tom, are you mad? Why would I want kids? Im living my second youth!”
“But Daisys your granddaughter!”
“Pity.”
“What?!”
“Pity maternitys obvious, but paternity isnt. If Id had a son with kidswhos to say theyre mine? But this ones definitely mine. And Ive got my own life.”
“Yeah. Shouldve looked closer at *you* before marrying Jane.”
One morning, Mum was gone. Her hoard remainedshed at least kept our rooms clearbut shed vanished. I cracked the window; icy air diluted the stench. Fed Daisy, nibbled something myself, then took her to Mrs. Harris.
“Mums gone. Ive got school.”
“Gone? In this freeze? Whered she go?”
**Epilogue**
My wayward, broken mother ended her days on the outskirts of the landfill. Why she froze instead of coming homeno one knew. Mrs. Harris said social services would take us now.
And they came. The woman surveyed our flat, then turned to Mrs. Harris.
“Could we handle the paperwork at yours?”
“Of course,” she sighed.
“Hold it.” Dads voice rang up the stairwell. “Sorryjust back from a haul. These are *my* kids.”
“And the flats yours?” the social worker scoffed.
Dad didnt even glance inside. “Pack your things, Ollie. Were leaving. Well sort this place later.”
“Daisy?” I whispered, terrified.
“Obviously. Daisy, love, you too.”
My sister peeled herself from the wall and shuffled toward him.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Is it really you?”
He scooped her up, crushing her to his chest with a ragged breath.
“Its me. Im here. Its alright.”
“Dont leave again, Daddy!” she wailed.
I froze. Now shed spill everything, and stern Miss Social Worker would take us, Dad or not. But the woman had lost interest, gossiping with Mrs. Harris. And Dadtears streamingheld Daisy tight. Hed tried so hard to resent her too, to stay away. But love won. Love for us. His kids.
“I wont. Im never leaving you again.”
