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Little Mary Couldn’t Understand Why Her Parents Didn’t Love Her
**A Personal Diary Entry**
Little Polly could never understand why her parents didnt love her. Dad was always irritated by her, and Mum went through the motions of caring for hermore concerned with keeping Dad happy than with Polly herself.
Gran, Dads mum, Margaret Thompson, insisted they were just busy. Dad worked long hours as a lorry driver, and Mum had her hands full with the house. But the truth came out when Polly was eight, overhearing a blazing row.
“Susan, this soups too salty again!” Dad bellowed. “Cant you do anything right?”
“Michael, honestly, I tasted itit was fine!” Mum protested weakly.
“Everythings always fine with you! Even failed at giving me a son. The lads at work take the micka bloke like me, stuck with a daughter!”
Polly doubted anyone actually mocked himhe was a hard man, well-respectedbut the bitterness in his voice made her stomach twist. Now she understood why they bundled her off to Grans every time Dad came home from a haul. He couldnt stand the sight of “not a son.”
At Grans, Polly was happy. They baked, sewed, did homework. Still, it stung, knowing her parents barely wanted her. Then, not long after that row, Michael and Susan announced they were moving to Londonfor a “fresh start.” Dad decided, Mum agreed, and Polly? She wasnt invited.
“Youll stay with Gran,” Mum mumbled, avoiding her eyes. “Well fetch you later.”
“Good. Id rather be here anyway,” Polly lied, chin high, heart aching.
Fine. She had Gran, her friends, her teachers. Let her parents do as they pleasedshe wouldnt waste tears on them.
By the time Polly turned ten, Michael and Susan had their precious sonBenjamin. Dad announced it over video call. Theyd never visited, only rang occasionally, sent money now and then. Mostly, Gran paid Pollys way.
Then, a year later, Mum suddenly insisted Polly move in. She even came to fetch her.
“Darling, well be a proper family now! Youll love your little brother.”
“I dont want to leave Gran.”
“Dont be difficult! Youre old enough to help.”
“Susan, enough.” Gran cut in. “If youre after a free babysitter, forget it.”
“Shes my daughterI decide!” Mum snapped.
Gran wasnt having it. “Call social services, then. See how quick they strip your rights after abandoning her!”
They arguedPolly didnt hear the rest; Gran sent her to the shopbut Mum left without her.
Ten years passed. Polly finished school, college, got a job as an accountant through Grans old friend, Albert Whitmore. She met Tom, a lorry driver, and they planned to weduntil Gran passed.
Mum and Dad came to the funeral. Benjamin stayed behind”too young for such things.” Polly, numb with grief, barely registered Dads muttering over the wake.
“This place is a dump. Wont fetch much.”
“Michael, not now,” Mum hissed.
“Needs sorting. Benjamins alone.”
Albert frowned. “Selling what, exactly?”
“This flat. Benjaminll need his own place soon. Wont cover much in London, but its a start.”
Polly stared blankly out the window.
“Kicking your own daughter out, Mike?” Albert asked quietly.
“Shes grown! Let her husband house her.”
Albert sighed. “Natasha was right about you. But it wont work. The wills legalthis flats Pollys now.”
Dad went quiet. “Turned Gran against us, eh?” he spat. “Well see. Wills can be challenged.”
“And Natasha foresaw that too,” Albert said evenly. “Try it, Mike. Ill stand for Polly.”
Dad lasted a day before concedinglegal fees were steep, success unlikely.
“Polly, have you no shame?” he tried. “Youll marryBenjamin needs this! Give it up!”
“No.”
“Well pay youfifty grand. Enough for a deposit.”
“No. And dont contact me again.”
“Or what? Youll call the police?”
“Yes.”
He left. Four years passed without a word. Polly married Tom; they had a daughter, Maggie. Money was tight, but they were happyuntil Mum called, shrieking.
“This is your fault! If you hadnt clung to that flat, your dad wouldnt have taken extra shiftshed still be alive!”
Pollys chest tightened. “You need help with the funeral?”
“I need nothing! Benjamins an orphan because of youlive with that!”
Tom squeezed her hand. “You know its not true.”
She sighed. “I do.”
A year later, Mum turned up unannouncedolder, lips pursed. “We need money. Benjamins starting uni soon.”
“No.”
“After all youve done”
“You know the truth. And if you speak ill of Gran again, Ill throw you out.”
Mum sneered. “Her influence shows. Look at this placeyouve money.”
(Theyd saved for years, barely paid off the loan.)
“Ask about your granddaughter, at least.”
“Shes got parents. Benjamin only has me.”
“Enough. I wont give you a penny.”
Mum left with a threat. A week later, a court summons arrived.
“Lost your mind?” Polly asked coldly.
“Ill make you support him. Its the law.”
“The law wont force me to fund your choices.”
In court, Mum sobbed theatricallyabandoning Polly was “necessary,” losing Dad left them struggling. The judge pitied heruntil Polly spoke.
The truth, and their comfortable finances, sealed it. The case was dismissed.
Mum left without a word, hatred in her eyes. Polly knew shed be back. But this time, she was ready.
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