A mother held her daughter close, kissed her, and wondered: “Who does she look like?” She sighed. Friends were puzzled and asked the same question. Whether a friend planted suspicion in the husband’s mind, his own mother sensed something amiss, or Victor himself began to doubt his wife’s faithfulness, one day he came home from work looking troubled.

The mother hugged her daughter, planted a kiss on her forehead, and wondered for the hundredth time, Who does she take after? Then she sighed. Friends and family asked the same question, raising their eyebrows. Whether someone had put ideas into her husbands head, or her mother-in-law had started whispering suspicions, or whether Victor himself simply began doubting his wifes fidelity, no one can recall. But one day, he came home from work with a face as long as a wet week.

Victor, what are we going to do? Its too soon. Annes only just turned two, shes barely out of nappies, and Ive not had a single minutes rest. Jane fretted, exhausted.

Back-to-back maternity leaves, honestly, Jane lamented. Annes still tiny, wants to be held all the time. How on earth will I lift her up when I look like Ive swallowed a beach ball?

Therell be four of us, but youre the one bringing home the bacon. Shouldnt we wait a bit before baby number two? Jane posed the question, instantly frightened by her own daring.

Victors response was as gentle as a sledgehammer. Dont be absurd. Put it out of your mind, he snapped, then softened. Sorry, its not your fault. Well manage. Ill find some extra workbit of freelancing, maybe.

If its a girl, well be grand. I have all Annes outgrown frocks stored away. Might not even need a new pram. He tried to sound optimistic. Theyll be thick as thieves, only a couple years between them. And if its a boywell, Ill apply for an extension. He grinned at Jane.

And so that was settled. Jane doted on Anne, her first, long-awaited daughter. She couldnt help herself, scooping the little one up for a cuddle at every opportunity, even as her own tummy became increasingly conspicuous.

On bad days, shed secretly hope she wouldnt carry this hasty new arrival to termnot that shed ever admit anything of the sort, not even to herself.

But nature, as ever, had her own plans. The months slipped by without fuss, and right on schedule, the Murrays of Manchester welcomed another baby girl.

When Jane first saw her, she was a bit flummoxed by the newborns fair, downy hairJane and Victor both had dark heads. Annes mop was jet black at birth but did lighten later; maybe this new ones would do the reverse, Jane mused.

The babys blue eyes and porcelain skin drew admiring gasps from everyone who dropped by. As for her name, Jane and Victor didnt overthink it, settling on Daphne. A rare enough name, and the sisters would share the same initials, which Jane believed was somehow significant, though shed be hard-pressed to say why.

Nobody could quite explain how two girls in the same family could turn out so unalike. Daphne differed not only from Anne, but from her parents, too. The older she grew, the more striking the difference. As if some capricious English wind had dropped her into their lives by mistake.

Her hair eventually darkened to a sandy shade, and her angelic blue eyes regarded the world with keen curiosity. Plump, tranquil, and endlessly watchful, she was the sunniest baby on their street.

Still, Jane found herself hugging Daphne and thinking, Who does she look like? before letting out another sigh. Acquaintances would peer at the child, half-whispering, Are you sure shes yours?

It didnt help that Victor grew quiet and broody. Perhaps some mate at work or his mother had wound him up. Maybe it was just Victors own doubts, festering in the background.

One evening, after a long, awkward silence, he confronted Jane in their kitchen, accusing her of disloyalty and recalling that good-looking, blond friend from university whod fancied her years ago. Was Daphne really his?

And on the off chance Jane hadnt been unfaithful, maybe the hospital had bungled the babies and handed out the wrong daughter. Rare, but it happened.

Tearfully, Jane denied everything. Ive never been unfaithful! Shes ours, I swear. Nobody swapped her at the hospital! Victor, thoroughly unconvinced, slept on the sofa for a week.

The arguments multiplied like mushrooms after the rain, and Jane started packing her bags. Only then did Victor realise what he stood to lose. He was fond of his family, couldnt bear the thought of losing his wife and the girls. He insisted he just wanted the truth, but he was tired of the neighbours muttering, She looks nothing like either of you… strange, isnt it? He felt like the village idiot with invisible antlers.

He begged Jane to stay, but declared hed have a paternity test, just to be sure. Jane burst into fresh tears.

How can I stay if you dont trust me? she sobbed. Why stop with Daphnetest Anne too. Maybe shes not yours either. Lets just call it quits.

Victor, hands shaking, gathered Daphnes baby hair, collected Annes, and delivered them himself to the local lab in Manchester. He drove the staff mad with questions: was there any chance theyd muddle up the samples? Could some mistake happen? Were results ever switched? They assured him all was done properly. A little reassured, he returned home.

The girls heard the arguments; Daphne, who was only four, still understood that their parents rows were about her. Anne, blunt as ever, declared: Youre not my sisterthey left you on our doorstep. Mum and Dad are divorcing because of you. Daphne cried so hard her mother couldnt console her.

Anne, meanwhile, concocted plans to rid herself of her sister. Surely without Daphne, the house would be peaceful and Mum and Dad would stay together.

One day, when Jane popped out to Tesco and Victor was working late, Anne dressed Daphne and took her far from home. When Jane returned and found the house empty, she flew into a panic, dashing out to the streetno sign of the girls. A neighbour from downstairs remembered seeing them leave, but she had a date with her favourite soap and didnt ask any questions.

Jane rampaged through the neighbourhood. Victor hurried home and joined the frantic search. Twilight deepened, but the girls didnt turn up. The police were called.

An hour later, both children were found. First Daphne, discovered crying in a strange garden by a lady who phoned the station. Anne was located shortly after, lost and terrified in the dark.

The relief was such that neither girl was scolded. Anne, of course, never confessed to her plot.

Soon, rows erupted againVictor blaming Jane for neglect, Jane blaming Victor for never being home. What if theyd been hit by a lorry? What if someone had taken them? she wailed.

Eventually, the DNA results came in: Victor was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the biological father of both girls. No affair, no mix-up. The doctors explained about hidden genes; it was all perfectly natural. Even fair-skinned families could have dark-haired children and vice versanatures little surprises.

Slowly, the household returned to equilibrium, but Daphne never quite shook her outsider label. She and Anne were never friends. When they squabbled, Anne never missed a chance to remind her, No one loves youyoure not really my sister anyway. I always get new dresses, you get my hand-me-downs because Mum knows youre not really mine.

Daphne would cry, but didnt tattletale. Anne often stitched her upmaking trouble and pinning the blame on her younger sister.

Why cant you be more like Anne? Look how quiet and good she is, Jane would sigh, missing the devilment right under her nose.

After hearing this enough, Daphne decided complaining was futile. Clearly, Mum only loved Anne. Whenever scolded, shed curl up in a corner, close her eyes, and imagine becoming invisible.

Anne finished school first, but saw no point in higher educationshe was pretty, after all, and hadnt life always hinted that that would be enough? She met a lad at the village disco, got married, and moved into his bachelor pad. He worked with his dad, flogging used cars. It wasnt glamorous, but it paid the bills.

Jane, in her way, loved Daphne too, but couldnt help using her elder daughter as the gold standard. Daphne had always felt overshadowed, weighed down by Annes childhood taunts, and yes, she wore Annes hand-me-downs.

Look at Annebagged herself a lovely bloke. Take notes! All you do is sit drawing and daydreaming, Jane chided.

In sixth form, a boy paid Daphne some attention; desperately craving love, she responded with innocent trust. Only too late did she realise she was pregnant. Scared, she told him, and he seemed earnest enoughhed talk to his parents.

Of course, this let the cat out of the bag. The boyfriends mother stormed over to give Jane an earful and persuade them not to ruin her only sons lifetermination was the obvious solution.

To Janes surprise, Victor took Daphnes side. Perhaps it was guilt over old suspicions, or maybe he just pitied her at last. Shell have the baby. I wont let you ruin her life; shes been through enough.

The young man was promptly sent to an uncle in Birmingham, and Daphne switched to home study. The school did its best to keep things hushed to avoid a fuss with the authorities. Daphne even sat her English A-levels at the kitchen table, supervised by a kind-hearted teacher.

What good would a top mark do her, though? She was about to become a mum; her life, she assumed, was cancelled.

Unexpectedly, Victor passed away soon afteroverworked, full of worries, his heart simply gave out. He lay down for a post-work nap in front of the telly and never got up. Jane discovered him still warm. The house filled with tears and paramedics, and the shock sent Daphne into early labour.

And so, the day her father left the world, Daphne brought her son Oliver into itanother fair-haired, blue-eyed child.

She missed the funeral, stuck on the maternity ward. At home, Jane muttered, You drove your father to his grave. Nothing but trouble, you are. But she adored her grandsonhow could she not love a sweet, angelic-faced boy? She did worry, however, that no one would ever marry Daphne now.

I dont want anyone, Daphne declared. My own father doubted mewhy would anyone else love my son?

Oliver grew into a clever, quiet little lad. When he was five, fateor rather, Anneintervened again.

Unlike her sister, Anne seemed to have everything but a child of her own. Her mother- and father-in-law, desperate for grandchildren, pressured her husband to find a proper wife. He started wandering, but Anne didnt leaveshe had nowhere to go, and wasnt about to surrender her middle-class comforts to go live with Mum (and Daphneperish the thought).

So Anne decided to sort out her sisters life for her. She couldnt take Daphne by the hand and dump her in the next suburb anymore, so she tried matchmaking instead. The man who regularly fixed their computeryoung, single, and entirely resistant to Annes own overtures (rude, honestly!)would do nicely for her plan. Anne invited him out, then set Daphne up to fill in, assuming the disaster would amuse her and perhaps, if luck broke against Daphne for once, shed get shot of her for good.

Daphne dressed nicely, daubed her hair, but skipped the makeup; let him see the real her, she thought. At the café, she recognised him straight away: there he was, hunched over his phone, not expecting her.

Are you Daniel? she asked.

Yes. And you are?

Im Annes sister. Daphne.

Daniel was startled but polite, inviting her to sit and offering cake. Best in town, he said, Would you like to try?

How did you know?

I meet clients here all the time. He glanced back at his phone, perhaps trying to call Anne.

Daphne watched himsunken eyes, bristly chin, wild hair, practically calling out for a haircut. Awkward silences ensued, until she broke it.

Am I bothering you?

No, not at all. Isnt your sister coming?

I havent the foggiest. Anne said youd be expecting me. If not, Im happy to leave. The waitress delivered coffee. Do stay, now youre here, Daniel insisted.

Ill skip the cake, said Daphne, pushing the plate away.

Worried about your figure? Nonsense, you look lovely, said Daniel.

But men like thin girls, she sighed wistfully.

Says who? What do you know about men? he asked.

Nothing, really, she admitted. Ive a son. Hes five. Did Anne tell you?

Should she have? Daniel cocked an eyebrow.

In spite of realising Anne had set her up to fail (again), Daniel insisted on walking her home. Along the way, he talked, Daphne listened. At her door, he asked for her number.

Why? she inquired, surprised.

So we can talk again. Id like to actually get to know you properly. He called a week later.

Sorry, he explained, Ive been busy. Fancy a stroll tonight?

Daphne hesitatedher entire life revolved around Oliver. Still, she agreed to see Daniel again.

Their next meeting unfolded slowly, Daphne beginning to paint the picture of her tangled childhood and family drama. In telling him, she saw it more clearly herself.

On leaving the café, a scruffy stray dog followed them around the corner. Popping into a shop, Daniel bought bread and sausages for the pup. At the till, an old lady ahead of them painstakingly counted out coins for her groceries. Daniel paid for her, adding a chocolate bar, more sausages, and a tub of ice cream for good measure.

Ice cream too? Daphne asked.

My nan loved ice cream, but rarely bought it for herself. I like to think Im making up for that.

So, are you being kind to me out of pity, the way you are to dogs and old ladies? Daphne asked, deadpan.

Daniel looked at her, shocked, Absolutely not. I like youa lot. Youre bright and good. I just think if I can help anyone, why not?

The dog wolfed down the food and tottered off on its own business.

So, hows it going? Anne called that night.

Wonderfully, said Daphne.

Oh yes? Whats wonderful?

Daniel and I are, well, seeing each other. Thanks for the introduction.

Really? You like that oaf? Anne sounded incredulous.

Hes kind. Interesting. He says he likes me.

Anne grunted and rang off. Days later, she turned up at their flat. Daphne, settling Oliver into bed, overheard Anne hissing to Jane in the kitchen:

The luck of that nitwit. I meant to palm off the computer guy, get back at him for blanking me, and he falls for Daphne. Brilliant!

Your husbands still with you, isnt he? Jane interjected, disapproving.

Husband… Hes shopping for someone new. Divorce is only a matter of time. What am I supposed to do, Mum?

Well, dont lose your head over it. And stop resenting your sister. Be glad for her!

Resent? Shes thick, clumsy, always fiddling with peoples hair at that ghastly salon. Even her sons not hers, bet you. Why couldnt she have been the one to fall down a drain as a kid!

Whats this about a drain? Jane clutched her chest, gasping for breath. At that, Daphne rushed in and dialled for an ambulance.

Paramedics averted disasterJanes stroke was mild, and she pulled through.

Two months later, Daphne and Daniel were married, with Oliver moving in, too. Daphne visited Jane often, but Anne quarrelled with everyone and vanished, in search of another life.

Parents assume their children dont notice anything, bickering away within earshot. But kids notice everythingand draw their own conclusions.

The battles between sisters for love and attention can be fierce. But bitterness is a boomerang; it tends to return to sender.

Children never listen to adults, but are never wrong in copying them. J. Baldwin

The words a daughter hearswhether conveying support or scornbecome, for her, truths about herself and about how people connect.In the months that followed, Daphne flourished in her new homea home shed helped build, one smile at a time. Daniel never tired of hearing Olivers odd questions or reading Daphnes favorite poems aloud after dinner, no matter how tired he was. With quiet devotion, he repaired what needed fixing, whether it was a wobbly table or some scar of the soul neither of them could name.

When Annes first marriage unravelled at last, she called only Jane, her voice brittle and small, not ready for apologies. Jane listened, then gently asked, Have you rung your sister? Anne said nothing, and the silence between them rang louder than any row.

One spring evening, as the cherry blossoms drifted down like confetti on their quiet street, Daphne and Oliver went walking after supper. Oliver, wise for his seven years, squeezed her hand.

Mum, he asked, will you love me even if Im different to you?

Daphne knelt, brushing hair from his pale brow. I will love you especially because youre different. I spent so long thinking I had to change to be wantedbut it was me all along. And you? Youre perfect as you are.

Oliver grinned, then pointed to the fallen petals accumulating in the gutter, a soft, uncertain heap. Theyre all different, he observed. But the tree still lets them grow.

Daphne laughed, a sound light and free, feeling at last that something had shifted within her. She glanced up at the skythe same sky her family lived under, each of them holding their wounds and wishes.

Perhaps Anne would find peace; perhaps she wouldnt. But Daphne had found what shed needed mosta ground to root herself, a belief that, though families break and repair in odd patterns, love can still grow, stubborn as spring.

And somewhere, from his picture on her wall, Victor seemed to smile, the faintest glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Above all, Daphne understood: she belonged to herself first, and from that belonging, everything elsekindness, forgiveness, even happinesscould finally begin.