It was something that hadn’t occurred to me before.
But I found the answer after a moment’s thought.
The uncanny likeness, the affection and more,
the cot, all the gifts and baby clothes he’d bought.
My Dad, the lodger, the new baby, and me.
I quite literally turned blue with rage!
At breakfast I said, ‘Dad, do you really think I can’t see?’
Mentally, I calculated their difference in age.
‘You know you’re easily old enough to be her father.’
Dad grimaced, looking down at a fried egg on his plate.
‘Ketchup or brown sauce, which would you rather?’
He said ‘Both, I want both. Look, let’s start with a clean slate.’
Barely six months on from when we’d lost Mum.
Sue had arrived, smiling, just a short while after.
‘It will help pay the mortgage.’ I’d agreed, still feeling numb.
Not imagining that Dad, would actually shaft her.
‘You’ll be senile before Liam finishes university.
By then, what pension you have will be gone!’
Solemn, Dad ate, filling me with pity
lacking compassion, for this unforgivable wrong.
‘I was lonely,’ he said, ‘and with Sue I found a friend.’
‘And the bed felt too spacious?’ I asked with a judgemental frown.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Dad sighed, ‘Sue helped me mend.’
Unfolding my arms, I adjusted my crown.
‘Well, I’m not calling her Mum.’
Brinkinfield 