Member-only story
Twenty-seven years ago — in 2024 — a Tory MP and ex-SAS officer hired a young escort called Ivy to perform an unusual service for him. He developed a crush on her, and against her better judgment she gave him a chance.
Their collected stories are linked at the end of this final one.
When she saw the wicker coffin I’d chosen, my daughter told me, “He’ll hate it! What’s wrong with tradition?”
I allowed myself a wry smile at just how wrong she was, but smiling hurt, like my lips were scar tissue pulling on adhesions. That image made me laugh, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I wanted to, but at the same time I didn’t, because I hadn’t laughed for so long.
I heard Poppy ask, “Mum? You okay?” and then her arms were around me, and I broke, because it was the first time she’d hugged me in six years.
When Tom needed a bone marrow transplant I asked Poppy to take a DNA test. Her anger at me began to smoulder as soon as she processed my request, but it became an inferno when we all found out the truth together. Daddy’s girl couldn’t forgive me when she learned she’d never really been her daddy’s girl… and so she couldn’t be his saviour, either. I think that part hurt her most.
