Sometimes the people who are supposed to love us the most turn out to be the cruelest. I never thought someone could be so cruel to a child. On the morning of a school pageant, my daughter’s dress was ruined. But it wasn’t the spoiling itself that hurt the most, it was the realisation of who had done it and why.
The timer in the kitchen jingled as I pulled out the last of the chocolate chip biscuits, and the sweet aroma filled our humble suburban home. Giggles echoed in the upstairs hallway where my daughters stretched out on the carpet planning their outfits for school pageants.
It’s been six years since David and I were married, and those sounds still make my heart race. Watching our daughters, Sophie and Liza – technically my daughter and his daughter from previous marriages – become inseparable has been the greatest gift in this whole blended family thing.
‘Mum! Can we have biscuits now?’ called Sophie from upstairs.
‘Only if you’ve done your homework!’ I shouted back.
Rumbling footsteps rumbled up the stairs and both girls, now both 15 years old, burst into the kitchen with laughter.
‘We’re starving,’ Liza announced sharply, reaching for a biscuit. Her dark curls were in tune with her father’s, and Sophie’s blonde waves she’d inherited from me.
‘Daddy’s going to be late again, isn’t he?’ asked Sophie, sitting down on a bar stool.
I nodded, holding out their glasses of milk. “Budget meeting. He said not to wait.”
“Hey, have you guys seen the flyer? About the spring competition?” asked Liza, her eyes burning with excitement. ‘We should totally do it.’
Sophie hesitated. ‘I don’t know…’
“Come on! We can wear matching dresses and stuff,” Liza insisted.
‘And who’s going to sew those matching dresses?’ I raised an eyebrow, already knowing I was going to volunteer.
They both turned to me with the same pleading look on their faces.
“Please, Mum? You’re great with the sewing machine,” Sophie said.
‘Please, Elina?’ repeated Liza. She had never called me “Mum”, but there was the same warmth in the way she said my name.
How could I say no to these faces?
‘Okay,’ I laughed. ‘But you’re both helping with the design.’
Later that night, as David sank down beside me on the bed, I whispered: “The girls want to enter the spring competition. Together.”
He pulled me to him. “That’s great. By the way, my mum called. She wants us all to be at Sunday dinner.”
My stomach clenched into a lump. ‘Wendy invited all of us?’
Even in the dark, I could feel his hesitation. ‘Well, she was asking specifically about Liza, but…’
‘It’s okay,’ I cut him short. “We’ll all go. It’s been a few weeks since her last…comment.”
David sighed. “I’ve talked to her so many times, Elina. I don’t know what else to do.”
I squeezed his hand. ‘We just keep showing her that we’re family…all of us.’
Sunday dinner at Wendy’s huge colonial home was always an exercise in restraint. And this day was no exception.
‘Liza, dear, I have something for you,’ she announced after we finished her famous roast. She pulled out a small box and held it out to her granddaughter.
Opening it, Liza discovered a dainty silver bracelet with a heart charm. ‘Thank you, Grandma!’
Sophie sat quietly beside her, her sad eyes fixed on the empty plate. I felt a familiar burning sensation in my chest.
‘The girls have interesting news,’ I said, forcing my voice to be bright. ‘They’re both competing in the school’s Spring Pageant.’
‘How nice,’ Wendy replied, her smile fading slightly. “Liza, you’re going to be gorgeous on stage. You have your late mother’s grace in you.”
David cleared his throat. ‘Both girls will be beautiful.’
‘Of course,’ Wendy said dismissively, then turned to Liza. ‘Are you wearing that blue dress we saw at the mall last month?’
‘Actually,’ I interjected, “I sew them dresses. And identical ones.”
Wendy’s eyebrows flew upward. “Matching? But Liza has to stand out. She has the looks.”
‘Mum?’ warned David.
“What? I’m just saying that some girls are naturally more suited to this sort of thing. It’s genetics.”
Sophie pushed her chair back slightly. “Can I excused myself? I need to use the loo.”
When she left, I leaned forward. “Wendy, we’ve talked about this before. Both girls deserve equal treatment.”
‘Equal treatment?’ She laughed. “Elina, dear, I’m not cruel. I’m being realistic. Sophie is YOUR daughter. Not David’s. Why pretend otherwise?”
‘Because we’re family,’ David said firmly. ‘All of us.’
‘Family is blood,’ Wendy hissed, her voice as hard as stone. “You can’t change that by wishful thinking. Sophie is not my granddaughter. And she never will be.”
‘Mum, could you…’
‘David, it’s okay.’ I interrupted him gently, already turning towards the stairs. ‘Let’s just go home.’
I headed after the girls.
I’d been working late into the night for weeks on the dresses – pale blue satin, with hand-embroidered flowers on the bodice. The girls tried them on, twirling in front of the mirror, planning hair and make-up.
‘These are the most beautiful dresses in the world!’ exclaimed Sophie during the last fitting, running her fingers over the delicate lace trim.
‘Elina, you’re a genius!’ – agreed Liza, studying her reflection. agreed Liza, studying her reflection. agreed Liza, studying her reflection.
I smiled, exhausted but proud. ‘You both steal the show.’
The contest was set for Saturday morning at the community centre near Wendy’s area. Since it was early to start, David suggested we stay at his mother’s house for the night.
‘That makes sense,’ he said when I expressed concern. “She’s five minutes from the venue. Otherwise, we’d have to leave our place at dawn.”
‘But the dresses…’
“We’ll take them with us and keep them safe. It’s only one night, Elina.”
I gave up, telling myself I was being paranoid. Wendy wouldn’t stoop so low as to disrupt the moment of the baby’s birth. Would she?
Friday evening we settled into Wendy’s guest rooms. I hung both dresses carefully in the wardrobe in the girls’ room, making sure they hadn’t wrinkled overnight.
At dinner, Wendy was unusually gracious, asking the girls about school and pageant preparations. I began to relax, thinking that perhaps I had misjudged her.
After dessert, Sophie turned to Wendy. “Grandma, can I try on my dress one more time? Just to make sure it’s perfect?”
There was silence in the room. It was the first time Sophie had ever directly called her “Grandma”.
Wendy gave a strained smile. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You might pick up something.”
‘I’ll be very careful,’ Sophie promised.
‘I said no.’ Wendy’s voice turned cold. “Besides, girl, these pageants are about self-control and natural beauty. Some girls just have them, and others…” She left the phrase out.
Sophie’s face crinkled slightly before she pulled herself together. “You’re right. It’s better to leave it for tomorrow.”
Later, as I was putting the girls to bed, Sophie whispered: ‘She hates me, doesn’t she?’
‘No, honey,’ I lied. ‘She just…doesn’t know how to be a grandmother to both of you yet.’
‘It’s been six years, Mum.’
To that, I had no answer.
The morning chaos started right at 7am: shower, breakfast, hair… all the business. Everyone was hustling to be ready by nine o’clock. As soon as we got to the venue, the girls ran off to the dressing room and David stayed behind to unload the car.
I was fixing my earring when Sophie popped out of the room, tears streaming down her face.
“MAMA? My dress…”
My heart dropped. ‘What’s wrong, honey?’
‘It’s ruined.’
I rushed into the girls’ room. Liza stood there in her perfect dress, looking shocked. And there, on the table, lay Sophie’s dress. There was a rip along the side seam, an ugly brown stain spreading across the bodice, and worst of all, the scorched area went right through the embroidered flowers.
‘Oh my God…what happened?’ I whispered, picking it up with trembling hands.
‘I don’t know,’ Sophie sobbed. “When I saw it in the cupboard last night, it was fine. But when I took it out of my bag to get dressed, it went like this.”
I looked around the room when a low throaty growl came from the doorway. Wendy stood there, impeccably dressed, looking at us.
‘What a shame,’ she said, fake sympathy in her voice. “But some things aren’t meant to be. Perhaps this is a sign.”
‘A sign of what?’ snapped I.
“That some girls don’t belong on this stage. Don’t worry, Sophie. You’ll be able to see Liza shine.”
David appeared behind his mother. “What’s going on? The show starts in five minutes.”
Before I could answer, Liza stepped forward, her face full of determination. ‘I think Grandma ruined Sophie’s dress.’
‘What?’ David looked between them. ‘Mum, did you…?’
‘Of course not,’ Wendy scoffed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I saw you,’ Liza replied. “Last night. You came in when you thought we were asleep. You took Sophie’s dress. I thought you were ironing it.”
There was silence in the room and Wendy’s face hardened.
‘Liza, darling, you must have been dreaming.’
‘No, I wasn’t dreaming.’ Liza’s voice did not waver. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she reached behind her back, unbuttoned her dress and stepped out of it. Standing in just her panties and tights, she held out the blue dress to Sophie.
‘Here, take mine.’
Sophie stepped back. ‘No, I can’t…’
‘No, you can,’ Liza insisted, hugging her. “We’re sisters. That’s what sisters do.”
‘Liza!’ shrieked Wendy. ‘Put that dress on immediately!’
Liza ignored her, helping Sophie into the dress. “It doesn’t matter which one of us wears it. We both belong on this stage.”
‘I won’t let that happen.’
David finally found his voice. “Yes, you will. Or you can explain to everyone at the pageant why one dress is destroyed and your granddaughter isn’t participating.”
Wendy’s face went white. ‘She’s not my granddaughter.’
‘No, she is,’ Liza said vehemently. ‘And if you can’t see that, then maybe I don’t want to be your granddaughter either.’
The community centre was buzzing with excitement, with families filling the auditorium. Backstage, I was helping to adjust Sophie’s borrowed dress, and Liza was sitting nearby in jeans and a blouse.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Sophie told her again.
Liza shrugged. “There will be other contests. But there’s only one you.”
When Sophie took the stage, she conducted herself with a grace born of the knowledge that she was truly loved. Not by everyone…but by those who mattered most to her.
She didn’t take first place. She came in second place, right behind Emma and her professionally made dress. But as the girls left the stage with crowns in their hands, the pride in Sophie’s eyes was worth more than any trophy.
Wendy left before the ceremony was over, slipping out the side door without saying goodbye.
That evening, as the four of us celebrated with pizza in the living room, a text message arrived on David’s phone from his mother, ‘I hope you’re happy with your choice.’
He showed it to me and then typed back, ‘Yes. It’s time for you to make yours.’
After that, we didn’t see Wendy for six months. When she finally called, she asked to visit. Then she arrived with two identical packages of gifts – one for Liza and one for Sophie.
It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t a confession. But it was a beginning.
Blood doesn’t make a family. Love does. And sometimes it takes a child to teach an adult what that really means.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but fictionalised for creative purposes. Names, characters and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.
