With A Little Kindness (Larry Stylinson)

The Generosity of Strangers

Harry holds the carton of free range eggs in his hand as he glances down at the contents of his trolley, quickly doing the mental arithmetic to see if he can afford them. If he takes out the cherry tomatoes and goes for regular ones he probably can, he thinks, but Tilly loves the little ones and the way they burst on her tongue as she bites down on them. He puts the eggs back on the shelf and grabs a carton of the cheaper, barn laid ones. It'll still be close, but hopefully the weight of the loose potatoes and onions don't push him over his limit.

It's not his usual shopping day, but the monthly bank fees are due to come out of his account tonight, so if he doesn't spend his money today, the damn bank will take £6.30 of his remaining cash. Doing it this way means his account will be overdrawn until his next pay goes in, but he has other priorities right now, like feeding his daughter, so the bank can go fuck themselves.

"Mummy," Tilly says from beside him, tugging gently on the hem of Harry's sweater. "Can I have a lollipop?"

Harry looks down to find his daughter holding up a brightly coloured Peppa Pig Push Pop, her hopeful expression framed by her chocolate curls until she tilts her head up and they fall away from her face.

This is the hardest thing about being perpetually broke and Harry's heart clenches in his chest. He'd give her the world, if he could, and while he can't do that, he'll move heaven and earth to give her these little things.

Peppa Pig is her favourite show and her bright pink duvet cover is her pride and joy. It was an amazing find at the local charity shop and Harry had been moved to tears when she'd opened it up on the morning of her fifth birthday a month ago and squealed with excitement.

Fifth birthday. How did that even happen? It feels like only yesterday that he was bringing her home from the hospital to his tiny one bedroom apartment, bundled up against the chill, and absolutely terrified about how he was going to look after her all on his own.

The decision to forge ahead into motherhood alone had been a simple one, even though he'd known it wouldn't be easy. Brad, his one-night-stand, had made it crystal clear he wasn't interested in being part of the picture and that was just fine with Harry. Sleeping with him might've felt like a mistake at the time, but trying to make him part of Tilly's life when he didn't want to be would've been an even bigger one, and he's never regretted having Tilly, not for a single moment.

They may not have much, but Harry always tries to make what little they do have go as far as he can. It's just that sometimes the bills all come in at once and he has to watch every penny to make ends meet, which is stressful and by far his least favourite part of being a single parent.

His family had been supportive up to a point, but their traditional views, which had always been a bone of contention, had meant that the relationship he'd had with them became strained to the point of breaking once Harry had told them he was going to raise Tilly on his own. Now it's been reduced to nothing more than cards exchanged at Christmas and birthdays, and even then, it's not consistent.

Harry had always known he was a carrier and as he was growing up he'd felt blessed with the knowledge that one day he could give birth to his own children. He'd dreamt of stone cottages in the countryside, white picket fences, Christmas mornings spent surrounded by laughter and joy, making snow angels rugged up in winter jackets and scarves and mittens as he celebrated with the happy little family he would create. And he'd dreamt of a partner too, someone he could love unconditionally who would love him back just the same.

And while he doesn't have that yet, he still holds out hope that one day he'll find it. Until then, he and Tilly are more than enough for each other.

Harry nods and takes the lollipop from Tilly's outstretched hand. "Of course, sweetheart," he says and she beams at him, bouncing on her toes, her little pink rain boots squeaking on the linoleum floor.