Never mind, Sam! Don’t be down—still, you rang in the New Year in style!

12January

Dear Diary,

Im trying not to wallow. At least I rang in the New Year in style! I arrived back in my hometown, stepped off the platform at Birmingham New Street, crossed the station square and headed for the bus stop. I didnt tell my wife, Poppy, that Id be coming today.

My mood was low because Id just had an unpleasant chat with her. Shes been nagging me again, calling me indifferent and selfish.

Why indifferent? Id tried to wish her a Happy New Year, but her phone was switched off. She took offence. I spent three days trying to reach her, but she never answered. I got fed up and stopped calling.

On top of that she never bothered to greet my parents or my sister, let alone me. Im about to tell her that straight from the doorstep.

She isnt the only one to blame; she has her own shortcomings, so shell have to answer for them too. As they say, the best defence is a good offence.

Feeling a surge of resolve, I entered the hallway of my flat in a fighting spirit.

The flat greeted me with silence.

Hey! Anyone home? Poppy, Im back! I shouted, but there was no reply.

I peered into the kitchenno sign of her. I checked each room; all empty. Then I spotted the changes immediately: the baby cot by the wall was gone, the dresser that held the changing table and the pram my parents had given us had vanished.

I rushed to the wardrobe; the half that usually held Poppys clothes was bare.

Has she lost her mind? Dumped me? I thought.

I dialed my motherinlaw; no answer. Then I tried Poppys friend, Katiesilence again. Finally I got through to Michael, Katies husband.

Mike, cheers! Can you get Katie on the line? I cant reach her, I asked.

Katies out in the village with her kid, we celebrated New Years there. The receptions spotty, he replied.

I arrived yesterday because Im due on shift today. Theyre still on holiday, he added. Why do you need Katie?

I thought she might know where my Poppy is. I came from my parents house and shes not there. Everything we bought for the baby is missing too, I explained.

Sounds like your wife was about to become a mother. You went off on your holidays and left her alone at home? Mike said, surprised.

She didnt want to go. They gave her a deadline10th11thJanuary. She could have travelled back in time, I said.

Congrats, youre a proper wanker, Mike chuckled.

Why? I asked, puzzled.

Because youre probably a bachelor now. Idiot! Call the hospital, shell be there, he advised.

—

Ten days earlier.

My dear Stephen, my mother said over the phone, why must you stay home on the holiday? Poppy doesnt want to travel, so you go alone. Her due date is in two weeks; youll be back in time.

Almost the whole family will be together: Aunt Vera and Uncle Serge will arrive, Natasha with Victor, Olga with Paul, plus my dad and Vicky with Glen, she continued. Vicky booked us rooms in a countryhouse hotel in the woods for four nightsfrom the 30th to the 2nd.

The 31st there will be a banquet with invited performers. I paid for you, youll reimburse later. Youll stay with us until Christmas, then leave on the 8thjust in time for Poppys deadline.

Poppy refused to go.

Stephen, I could be taken any day now. Imagine: everyones having a laugh and I suddenly go into labour. The hotel is out of townwill an ambulance even make it? she protested.

No, Im not going anywhere, I replied.

Exactly, Mom said. Women now count pregnancy as a heroic feat, not a sickness. She bore three of us, barely stayed on maternity leave, and managed everything.

I understood she had a point, but I could picture a drab New Years Eve at home: just the two of us at a modest table. Poppy had already said she wasnt planning any special cooking. A feeling of melancholy settled over me.

Meanwhile the rest of the clan would be singing, dancing, and reveling in a restaurant. So I left alone.

The countryhouse hotel was indeed lively. Around half past midnight, as the New Year rang in, I stepped out of the ballroom into the lobby to call Poppy, but she didnt answer.

Well, Im offended, but shes to blame herself. She could be there now, having fun with everyone, I thought.

The next day Mom vented her anger at my sisterinlaw:

Poppy didnt even call to wish us a happy holiday. Shes completely ignored you, dear. Shes not learning what a real family is. Were all here together, and shes alone. Let her sit and think.

Poppy, that New Years night, thought of no one but menot of the inlaws or the extended family.

When her parents learned shed been left alone for the holidays, they invited her to stay with them. They werent planning a big feast. Her brother lived in London, worked night shifts, and didnt have a long weekend, so the parents intended to spend New Years just the two of them.

At 9p.m. on the 31st, Poppy and her mother set the table, and suddenly Poppy went into labour.

An ambulance was called. Her mother drove her to the hospital, and her father followed in his car.

Poppy ended up spending New Years in a delivery suite, while her parents waited in the ward corridor. She gave birth to a son

Following my mates advice, I called the hospital.

WardC? She was discharged yesterday, the operator said.

Discharged? Shes just had a baby! I protested.

Yes. The baby arrived on 1January at half past twelve.

Who collected her from the hospital? I asked.

A young man. That detail isnt recorded in the patient log, the clerk replied.

It became clear only her parents could have taken her, so they must still have both mother and child.

I bought a bouquet of roses and drove to their house.

The father opened the door.

Yes? he asked.

Good afternoon, Im here to see Poppy, I said.

Why? the father asked.

Actually, Im her husband, I replied.

My son, the father shouted, theres a man at the door claiming to be my soninlaw. Do you want to talk to him?

No, let him in, Poppy called from inside the flat.

He shrugged. She doesnt want to. Goodbye, lad! and slammed the door.

I lingered a few minutes, then rang again.

This time the mother, a tall, sturdy, loudvoiced woman, opened. Frankly, she intimidated me a bit.

You got something wrong? she asked.

Please let me in, I began bravely. I have a right

She snatched the roses from my hand and smashed them against my cheek a few times.

Youll learn what rights you have from a solicitor soon enough! And dont call again; my grandson is sleeping, she snarled, tossing the wilted bouquet at my feet and shutting the door.

I drove home, wiping my face repeatedly. The roses were beautiful, but they left thorns.

Back home I called my mother.

Can you believe it? They wouldnt even let me into the flat or see my son.

Dont worry, Stephen. Poppy will come back, cradling the baby. Dont send money, let her parents feed her. In a week or two shell return. Now get some sleepyou have work tomorrow.

I ate some readymade pies from the corner shop, went to bed, and fell asleep peacefully, unaware that this would be my last night in that flat.

The following morning I returned from work to find all my belongings boxed and stacked on the stair landing.

The mother, now the owner of the twobedroom flat where Poppy and I lived, opened the door.

Well, soninlaw, do you remember the address of your student hall, or shall I remind you? Pack up your stuff. Anything left will be cleared out by the cleaner tomorrow!

I was forced to move into a student hall. The court eventually granted the divorce. I wanted to rent a flat of my own, but when my paycheck arrived, deductions for child support and an extra £5,000 for my exwife left me with barely enough for a cup of tea.

Be more frugal! You still need to save for a place of your own, Michael warned. Dont be sad, Stephen. At least you rang in the New Year in style!

Poppy spent three years living with her parents, who helped raise little Sam while they let the flat we once shared be let out. When she finally returned to work, she and Sam moved back into a renovated flat that no longer bore any trace of me or my family.

What do you think of my actions? Write your thoughts in the comments, give a like if you feel like it.

Lesson: sometimes the hardest battles are fought inside our own hearts, and pride can keep us locked out of the doors we most desperately need to open.