Helen Phifer - The Forgotten Cottage

Tom looked down at the tray. She’d already poured his tea and buttered his toast so he wouldn’t struggle too much. He picked up the envelope and ran his butter knife along it. It was a pale pink card decorated with balloons and a baby’s pram, with ‘Congratulations on the birth of your baby girl’ written across the front. He frowned and picked up the envelope to check it had actually been sent to him. The name and address were written by hand in block capitals but it was definitely his name it was addressed to. He opened the card and a small black and white photo fluttered onto the floor.

Dear Daddy ,

I don’t think Mummy ever told you about me. I’m a big girl now and ever so lonely. Mum died last year and I’m all on my own. In fact, I’ve always been on my own .

It’s time I had a family. It would be nice to meet you and my brother one day soon. You don’t know me but I’ve been watching you all for some time now and I feel as if I know you all. I hope you’re feeling better?

Love me

Xxx

Tom felt the tea he’d just drunk bubbling in his stomach as memories of an illicit affair that had only lasted one week thirty-five years ago filled his mind. He’d stopped it not long after it began because he couldn’t do it to Sarah, his wife, and he’d come to realise pretty quickly that although Emma had been a fun, wild, sexy girl she was also completely mentally unstable. Surely she hadn’t got pregnant and had a child and kept it from him?

His hands began to shake and he felt as if he was going to be sick. He pushed the tray to one side and tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. In his hurry, he slipped and knocked the tray, which fell to the floor with a clatter, but he didn’t try to pick it up; instead, he bent down and picked up the grainy black and white Polaroid photo that he hadn’t seen before and he limped across to the bathroom, where he slammed the door shut and began retching over the toilet bowl. The housekeeper came running up the stairs to check that he hadn’t fallen out of bed or collapsed again. She took one look at the overturned tray and broken china which had spilt onto a small white envelope and grinned. Daddy hadn’t taken it too well, by the look of things.

She knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Mr Ashworth, are you okay?’

‘Yes, sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in a minute.’

She nodded to herself but set about cleaning it up anyway; it was her job to help with the mess and to look after him and she took it very seriously. Almost as seriously as her plans to kidnap her half-brother and hold him for ransom.

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