Mrs. Natalie Stevens, I won’t be living with your son—please be sure he hears that, said Samantha.

Mrs. Margaret Clarke, I wont be living with your son, tell him that straight away, Claire said, her voice flat. And who will you live with then? Who will look after the child? Im not seeing any princes waiting in the queue behind the hedge, her motherinlaw, Eleanor, muttered with a halfsmile.

Claire began packing her daughters things. She slipped a few essentials into a battered suitcase nothing fancy, just the basics. The rest could be dealt with later.

Her movements were calm and methodical. She tucked a warm jumper for little Poppy into the bag, marking the task off in her mind. She added a pair of boots, then another.

She wasnt crying any more, nor was she racked with doubt. A sleepless night had given her the clarity she needed: she and James had to part ways.

She heard him come home that evening. He poked his head into the bedroom, found it empty, and pushed open the door to the nursery. Claire pretended to be asleep.

The next morning, as James was about to head to work, he lingered by Poppys room. He hesitated, not daring to step inside, and postponed the inevitable conversation until later that day.

But there would be no conversation at all, because within half an hour Claire would flag a cab, take twoyearold Poppy, and head for her parents house. After what had happened the night before, she didnt want to see or speak to James any longer.

Shed grown used to his onthefly visits every Friday, but yesterday was Wednesday. Moreover, that morning Claire had asked James to come home early and watch Poppy while she met a friend Wendy had promised her a remote job.

Leaving Poppy with James in that state was out of the question, so Claire called Wendy to ask for a postponement. James didnt take kindly to that.

Who are you ringing? What meeting are you arranging? he snapped at her.

Im talking to Wendy. Weve agreed to meet, but I cant leave Poppy with you.

Why not?

Look at yourself in the mirror who do you think you are? Get some sleep; youve got work tomorrow, Claire replied, then turned toward the kitchen.

Wait! James shouted, seizing her wrist. Whats wrong with the way Im living? Its my birthday today, Vickys turning twentyone. Think Im a princess? I decide when I get home. Clear?

Claire tried to free her hand. Let go! It hurts! Youve completely lost your mind!

She jerked her arm; James wavered and almost fell.

Ah, thats it! he roared, his fist snapping forward into her cheek.

Claire clutched her face. James, apparently shocked by his own reaction, let go and tried to explain, but she turned and walked toward the nursery.

Princess, you know, he called after her, storming out of the flat.

Eleanor, the motherinlaw, had dubbed Claire a princess from the start, much to Margarets disapproval.

Twentyone and still living off her parents support. I was already a mother then, with another on the way, Margaret had complained. A husband, a house, a garden, a proper life and shes still studying! Youll be better off with a simpler girl, James.

Claires own parents werent thrilled with their soninlaw either.

Claire, where are you off to? James isnt the last man on earth. Fell in love? Fine, date, even live together, but you know Im not a fan of that.

Dont rush into marriage. Think if youre ready to spend the rest of your life with him. Look at his family, then decide.

Thats what Claire did. Six months later she realized her choice hadnt been right. She could have left then, but pride kept her from admitting her parents were right, and hope still lingered.

Poppys arrival didnt change James. He still believed that all household chores and caring for the child were Claires responsibilities. Her exhaustion, Poppys illness, and any other mishaps never excused a missed dinner or an untidy flat.

You cant manage one child! How do other women do it? Im off to work, and youre still in bed! he would bark.

Its Poppys teething; shes fussy, and I cant cook with her in my arms. Ive ordered delivery. Can you make some dumplings yourself? Or look after her while I sort dinner, Claire retorted.

The rosecoloured glasses had long since vanished. More often than not she thought her mother had been right about not rushing into Jamess family.

A few times she almost walked out, but James promised hed change, and she clung to that promise.

Then, after the night when he first reached for her, Claire realised she could no longer endure his violence. Yes, it was shameful to admit it to her parents, but she wouldnt live with a man who could raise his hand so casually. She certainly didnt want Poppy growing up under those conditions.

From the kitchen window, Claires mother saw a cab pull up outside their terraced house, and a figure emerging with a child on his hip.

Tom, look Claires arrived with her stuff. Help her with the bags, she instructed her husband.

When Claire stepped inside, she slipped off her dark sunglasses; her left eye was swollen, a dark bruise spreading beneath it.

Is that James? her mother asked, startled.

Claire nodded.

Right, Ill sort him out, her father barked, heading for the front door.

Dad, no, dont, Claire stopped him. Ill deal with him my own way. First, help me collect our things and Poppys cot from his flat.

Her father and Uncle Tom drove off with the boxes, and later took Claire to the local A&E.

If you want to press charges, a hospital report wont be enough; youll need a forensic examination, Uncle Tom advised.

Well book it tomorrow, her father said. Well get an appointment.

James returned from work with a bouquet and a toy for Poppy, only to find the house empty. Their belongings, even Poppys cot, were gone. He tried calling Claire, but her phone was off. He then rang his motherinlaw.

Yes, Claire and Poppy are with us. Youd better stay away my fists are still sore from the fight. Claire will lodge for divorce herself.

James kept trying to reach Claire, even waiting outside his fatherinlaws gate, but she never answered. If she went out with Poppy, it was only to the front garden.

A week later James received the divorce papers. Then the heavy artillery rolled in: Eleanor appeared at the doorstep.

Mum, I dont want to talk to her, Claire said.

I think a chat is necessary well get all the is dotted, the ts crossed. Lets have a word outside; Poppys sleeping, well speak in the yard.

Thinking of divorcing? Eleanor pressed. If it isnt your way, youll file straight away?

James hurt me, Claire answered.

So youve proved it! He came home on the fly, you dont chase him, just wait till hes gone over the edge.

Did you go digging into his past and got a punch? So now youre divorcing? Leaving the child an orphan?

Mrs. Margaret Clarke, I wont be living with your son, tell him that, Claire repeated.

Who will you live with? Who will look after the child? I dont see any princes waiting behind the fence, Eleanor retorted.

Nothing, I can manage on my own.

Well then dont count on his flat or any maintenance payments, Eleanor snapped.

The flat isnt mine. Ill definitely claim child support, and the court will be on my side.

And so it happened: the court granted the divorce, recorded the assault, and ordered James to pay child support plus £4,000 a month for Claires upkeep until Poppy turns three.

Five years slipped by. On the first of September, a school ceremony unfolded in front of the old primary: noisy older pupils, firstgraders clutching huge bouquets. Poppys grandparents and Claire arrived to see her start Year1.

Will Daddy be there? the little girl asked, looking up at her mum.

Hell be there, he called to say hes on his way, Claire replied. And there he is!

Claire waved at a tall man pushing through the crowd, but it wasnt James. Three years earlier shed married Alex, a colleague, and they were now expecting their first child.

James, meanwhile, remained single. Hed had a few flings, and a few women liked him, but whenever things got serious, some past lover always mentioned why his first wife had left. In the small town of Harrogate, everyone knows everyone, and James earned the nickname the sofa boxer.

Perhaps one day a woman will overlook that, but not yet. The law of the boomerang still turns not everyone believes it, but its there.

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