**Diary Entry**
Another late night returning from workexhausted. My car was playing up again, stalling a few times on the way. Probably sensing its days were numbered now that I was finally close to buying the dream car Id wanted for over a decade. I smirked climbing the stairs, imagining myself behind the wheel of a brand-new motor, cruising through town. That dream was why Id pinched pennies, why Id worked like a dog, taking every extra shift. Just to get closer to it. Couldnt even remember my last proper holidayalways chose the overtime pay instead. The bosses appreciated the grind but rarely rewarded it. They knew a loyal bloke like me wouldnt quit, so the bonuses stayed thin.
I lived on the outskirts of Manchester, in a flat left to me by my grandad. My parents were up in Newcastle, and we barely saw each other. Couldnt stand their naggingalways on about settling down, starting a family. As if that was ever my priority.
Reaching the fifth floorbloody lift broken againI nearly tripped over some drunk slumped outside my door. Flicked on my phone torch and squintednot a drunk. A kid. A girl, maybe twelve. She jolted awake at the light, scrambling to her feet, clutching a backpack. Then a photo slipped from her grip. It was me. Recognised it straight awaytaken at a mad uni reunion years back. She snatched it up, pressing against the wall. Whered she get that? Was she linked to my old mates? Most of them Id lost touch withlife pulled us apart.
“Hello! Ive come to see you,” she squeaked.
I fished out my keys, pretending not to hear. Why was she here? Who even was she? My mind jumped to those horror storieskids used in stings. One wrong move and youre nicked. I scanned the hallno cameras. Shone the torch again. Nothing. But what if coppers were hiding in a neighbours flat? Then again, half the floor was empty. This estate was forgottenno proper transport, just ageing tenants whod died off, their kids leaving the flats to rot. Hence the busted lights, the lift perpetually knackered unless someone got trapped insidethen maybe, just maybe, itd get fixed within the day.
“I didnt invite you,” I said, shoving the door open.
“Wait! Ive nowhere else to go! Youre Dennis Whitmore, right?” Her voice wobbled, but who knew what lurked behind those eyes? Trust no one in this world.
“Yeah. And?”
“Then its true! Youre my dad! You have to help me!”
I barked a laugh, shaking my head. Absolute madness. What father? Never had kids, never wanted em. At least, I hadnt thought about it till now. Still had time to decide
“Get lost. Ive no kids, never have. Dont push your luckIll call the police.”
I stepped inside, but as the door clicked shut, she cried out, “Its too late! Ive got nowhere! You cant just abandon me!”
My head spun. What the hell just happened? Who was this girl? Why that photo? Why claim I was her dad?
In the kitchen, I dumped my keys, flicked the kettle on. Just needed instant soup, a slice of bread, then bed. Early start tomorrowsupposed to be my day off, but work didnt wait. Every extra quid got me closer to that car.
The soup sat untouched. Questions gnawed at me. Tiptoed to the door, pressed my ear to itsoft sobbing. She hadnt left. Said she had nowhere to go. But what if it *was* a setup? Had I crossed someone? Bloke at work, maybe? Nah not his style.
Ormental as it soundedwhat if she *was* mine, and I was turning her away? Whered she end up? Whod she become? Too many questions. Swearing under my breath, I yanked the door open.
She sat hunched on the steps, hugging her backpack, crying quiet like an adult whod seen too much.
“Get in. Tell me your story, then well see.”
Regret prickled as she darted inside. Peered into the darkno movement, no shouts. Not a sting, then. So why that photo? Was she really mine?
“Kitchen. Want tea?”
She nodded. As I fixed it, digging out stale digestives (cupboards barelived off work canteen meals), she said her name was Emily.
“You met my mum at a student night. She was here for a performance. Her diary said you two hit it off fast.” Emily blushed. “Not details! Just that it was special. But you sent her away next morning. She went home, tried to forget you, then found out she was pregnant. Raised me alone. Gave me everything. But” Her voice cracked. “Shes ill. Needs heart surgery. Weve no money. No family. If you help, Ill pay you backsummer jobs, anything!”
Thirteen years ago, there *was* a wild flingSophie, her name was. One night. Could Emily be mine? Didnt see the resemblance till I spotted the birthmark under her eara red star. Same as mine. Same as my dads. My gut twisted.
But even if she *was* mineowed her nothing. Sophie hid her from me. Anger flared.
“Not my problem. Stay tonight, leave tomorrow. Howd your mum even let you travel alone?”
“She doesnt know I came. Please if she dies, Ill go into care. Your daughterin a home!”
“First, prove youre mine. Second, lived without a kid this long, Ill manage. Sofas yours. Ill give you £20 for the train. Dont come back.”
“Mum was right about you!” Emily spat. “Youre pathetic! Im leaving!”
“Youre not. Or I call the police. Imagine your mums heart hearing youre in a cell miles from home.”
She clamped her mouth shut, sipped tea just to warm up, ignored the biscuits. Gave her a pillow, blanketshe curled up on the sofa.
I stewed for hours. Found Sophies fundraiser onlineEmily mentioned, donations stagnant. People cared more about toddlers than a woman with a teen. A teen whod end up in care.
Went to my room, lifted the floorboardmy dream car money. Could almost smell the new leather. Boss flaunted his fresh motors yearly, offering rides for “errands.” Just showing off.
But why did I even want it? My old Ford Fiesta ran fine. Neglected it lately, saving for the upgrade. For what? To impress women? That phase was long gone. Emilys birthmarktoo precise to fake. And even if it was, a life was at stake.
Remembered Sophiebright-eyed, bold. That night was chaos. Brought her back here, against habit. Next morning, panicked shed trap me, sent her packing. Couldve had a family. Did I even want the car now? Whod I impress?
At dawn, drove Emily to the station. She raged, called me rotten. I gripped the wheel, silent.
Late to work, left earlyboss offered a bonus, but I went home, flopped on the sofa, mind reeling. Maybe Id been grinding for nothing.
Three months later, torchlight gleamed on the stairsbulb blown again. Hand on my pepper spray, I froze.
Sophie and Emily stood at my door. Emily flung herself at me. “Thank you, Dad! Im sorry for what I said! Youre the best!”
Sophie smilednot the girl I remembered, but a woman, steady. Something in me cracked.
That night, Id stuffed my savings into Emilys backpack while she slept. Knew shed find it.
“Thank you,” Sophie whispered.
“Come in,” I muttered, stepping aside.
Theyd brought cake. Made tea, awkward. Emily left us to talk.
“I was scared to tell you,” Sophie admitted. “Knew youd bolt. After you sent me away, I thought Id manage alone. Never dreamed shed track you down. When I found out God, shes just a kid, travelling alone”
“Dont pay me back,” I said. “Shes really mine?”
“Yours. Look at her.”
Called my bosstook a day off. Took them to Blackpool Pleasure Beach. Rides, ice cream, candyfloss. Put them on the train, promised Id visit.
A week later, I asked Sophie to try being a family. For us, not just Emily. She cried, said yes.
Two months on, drove them to meet my parentschuffed Id “got my head straight,” stunned by their fierce granddaughter.
And the car? Bought it later, after a better job. But nowI had a family to drive.
Funny how life works. Chased metal, found flesh and blood instead. Turns out, thats what I needed all along.
