Two years after my wife’s death, I remarried, hoping to rebuild my family. But when my five-year-old daughter whispered: ‘Daddy, the new mummy becomes different when you’re gone,’ I was stunned. Strange sounds from the locked attic, strict rules, and Sophie’s fear created a chilling mystery I couldn’t ignore.
I never thought I could find love again after losing Sarah. Because the grief displaced my chest, breathing seemed like an optional activity for months.
But then Amelia came into my life, all warm smiles and gentle patience, and somehow she made the world a brighter place.
Not just for me, but for Sophie too. My five-year-old daughter immediately fell in love with her, which was a miracle considering how difficult the last two years had been.
When Sophie first met Amelia at the park, my daughter didn’t want to leave the swing.
‘Just five more minutes, Daddy,’ she begged, her little legs swinging higher and higher.
And then Amelia came over, her sundress sparkling in the late afternoon light, and said something that changed everything: ‘You know, I’m sure you could touch the clouds if you went just a little higher.’
Sophie’s eyes lit up like stars. ‘Really?’
‘Well, I always thought so when I was your age,’ Amelia replied with a wink. ‘Do you want me to give you a push?’
When Amelia suggested we move into the house she inherited after we got married, it seemed like the perfect fit. The house was gorgeous, with high ceilings and detailed woodwork that spoke of quiet grandeur.
When Sophie first saw her new bedroom, her eyes widened and I couldn’t help but smile at her delight.
‘It’s like a princess room, Daddy!’ – She squealed, spinning in place. ‘Can I paint the walls purple?’
‘We’ll have to ask Amelia, honey. This is her house.’
‘It’s our home now,’ Amelia corrected softly, squeezing my hand. ‘And purple sounds wonderful, Sophie. We can choose the shade together.’
Then I had to go away on business for a week – my first long trip since the wedding. I was nervous about leaving my little family behind when everything still seemed so new.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Amelia assured me, squeezing a travel mug of coffee into my hands as I headed to the airport. ‘And so will we. Sophie and I are going to spend time with our girlfriends.’
‘We’re going to paint my nails, Daddy!’ gushed Sophie as I knelt down to kiss her forehead.
Everything seemed to be under control. But when I returned, Sophie nearly knocked me over with her arms, clinging to me the way she had done just after Sarah’s death.
Her little body trembled, pressing against mine as she whispered: ‘Daddy, new Mummy becomes different when you’re gone.’
My heart raced in my chest. ‘What do you mean, sweetheart?’
Sophie pulled away, her lower lip trembling. ‘She’s locking herself in the attic room. And I hear strange noises when she’s in there. It’s scary, Daddy! And she says I’m not allowed in that room, and… and she’s mean.’
I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘In what way, Sophie?’
‘She makes me clean the whole room by myself and won’t let me eat ice cream even if I’m well-behaved.’ Sophie hung her head and snorted. ‘I thought my new mum liked me, but… but… but…’
I hugged Sophie tightly as she started to cry and my thoughts scattered.
Amelia spent a lot of time in the attic, even before I left on my trip. She would disappear there for hours and when I asked about it, she would just smile and say she was ‘sorting things out’.
I didn’t think much of it at first. Everyone needs their own space, right? But now I was concerned.
And while the behaviour Sophie described wasn’t the worst-case scenario I had prepared myself for when she said Amelia was treating her badly, it was still a bit harsh.
As Sophie cried on my chest, I couldn’t help but wonder if bringing Amelia into our lives had been a huge mistake. Had I been so desperate to believe in our happy ending that I had missed something important?
But I said nothing when Amelia came downstairs. I greeted her with a smile and made a remark about Sophie missing me as I picked my daughter up and carried her to her bedroom. Once she had calmed down, we had a tea party with her favourite toys.
I hoped the moment had passed and we could get back to normal, but that evening I found Sophie standing at the door to the attic.
‘What is it, Daddy?’ She pressed her hand against the door.
I wished I knew the answer. ‘It’s probably just old stuff, sweetheart. Come on, it’s past your bedtime.’
But sleep didn’t come that night. I lay in bed next to Amelia, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling, and questions swirled in my head.
Had I made a terrible mistake? Had I let a man into our lives who would hurt my little girl? I thought about the promises I’d made to Sarah in those last days. To keep Sophie safe. To make sure she grew up knowing love.
When Amelia slipped out of bed around midnight, I waited a few minutes before following her.
From the bottom of the stairs, I watched her unlock the attic door and slip inside. I waited, but didn’t hear her close the door behind her.
I hurried up the stairs as quietly as possible. On impulse, I quickly opened the door and burst into the room.
My jaw dropped when I saw what was inside.
The attic had been transformed into something magical. Soft pastel walls, shelves full of Sophie’s favourite books, and a cosy armchair by the window piled with cushions.
In one corner stood an easel with art supplies, and the ceiling was decorated with twinkling fairy lights. In another corner stood a child’s tea table with dainty china teacups and a stuffed bear in a bow tie.
Amelia, who was adjusting the teapot on the table, turned around as I entered.
‘I…I was hoping to finish it before I showed you. I wanted it to be a surprise,’ Amelia stammered. ‘For Sophie.’
The room was beautiful, but I couldn’t ignore the knot in my stomach. ‘It’s beautiful, Amelia, but… Sophie says you were very strict with her. No ice cream, making her clean up alone. Why?’
‘Very strict?’ Amelia’s shoulders slumped. ‘But I thought I was helping her become more independent. I know I’ll never replace Sarah, and I’m not trying to, I just… I wanted to do the right thing. To be a good mother.’ Her voice cracked. ‘But I’ve been doing everything wrong, haven’t I?’
‘You don’t need to be perfect,’ I said softly. ‘You just have to be there for yourself.’
‘I think about my mother all the time,’ Amelia admitted, slumping down in the window seat. ‘It was supposed to be like this. When I started working on this room, without even realising it, I felt like I was her guide. Being strict, keeping things in order…’
She gestured to the perfect rows of books and neatly arranged art supplies. ‘I was so focused on creating this perfect space that I forgot that children need mess, ice cream and silly stories.’
Tears ran down Amelia’s cheeks. ‘I forgot that what she needs most of all is…love. Simple, everyday love.’
The next evening we took Sophie up to the attic. At first she kept to herself, half-hiding behind my legs, until Amelia knelt down beside her
‘Sophie, I’m so sorry I’ve been strict lately,’ Amelia said. ‘I’ve been trying so hard to be a good mum that I forgot how easy it is… to be there for you. Will you let me show you something special?’
Sophie looked around, curiosity overcoming caution.
When she saw the room, Sophie’s mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘O’.
‘This…this is for me?’ – she whispered.
Amelia nodded, her eyes sparkling. ‘That’s it. And I promise that from now on, we’ll clean your room together, and maybe… maybe we could eat ice cream while we read together?’
Sophie looked at her for a long moment before throwing herself into Amelia’s arms. ‘Thank you, new mummy. I love it.’
‘Can we have tea parties here?’ asked Sophie, already heading towards the small table. ‘With real tea?’
‘With hot chocolate,’ Amelia added with a laugh. ‘And with biscuits. Lots of biscuits.’
Later that night, as I was putting Sophie to bed, she pulled me to her and whispered: ‘New Mum isn’t scary. She’s nice.’
I kissed her forehead, feeling the last of my doubts disappear.
Our path to starting a family wasn’t straight and easy, but maybe that’s what made it real. We learnt together, sometimes stumbling, but always moving forward.
And when my daughter and my wife curled up in that attic room the next day, eating ice cream and telling stories, I knew everything was going to be okay.
