The DNA results were in, they burned a hole in her inside coat pocket. 

She didn’t belong, she’d always known it deep down. Her smile was different, the only one with dimples and fair skin. She felt like an imposter when all the family was home – three brothers, two sisters and Nan, all loud and boisterous, while she was timid and quiet. 

She couldn’t confront her now; it would probably kill her and everyone likely knew but said nothing.

It was her mum’s secret to keep, and God knows there wasn’t long left. She had slowly started to waste away, a shadow of the formidable busty and bold woman that she once was. From a Size 18 to a Size 10. No one talked about it, her clothes hanging off her, the listless movements and the constant sleeping.

Her Dad – God rest his soul! – also probably knew. All those navy days away. He didn’t have much time for the children and she especially was always an irritant. ‘Be quiet, your Dad's home!’ was the most prevalent memory. 

He never really looked her in the eye. Or was that her imagination?

Ironically, she was the only one left tonight. Mum dozing on the couch whilst she dipped her hands in the soapy dishwater, clearing up in the aftermath of countless grandchildren and sticky-fingered cousins following their Sunday-tea-at-Nan’s ritual. 

She dried her hands on the tea towel, quietly sat next to her mum and gently held her hand. 

Nan woke and looked at her daughter, The Baby: ‘Here - do you want to know a secret?’ 

‘There’s a Battenberg on the top shelf.’

Craig Binch

Craig Binch is a longstanding member of the writing workshops. He works in the NHS. He is incredibly prolific - over a hundred stories since he started in May 2024. He has some fifteen stories in our first anthology, Flash Dances.