The phone rang late at night. I picked up the receiver and heard my daughters voice.
«Mum, its me, Sophie. Ive got a problem! My husbands thrown me out. Im coming over with Dad tomorrow morning, and Ill stay at home.»
«Listen, Sophie, you dont have parents or a home anymore.»
«What?» she cut in. «What did you say? No home? Im your only daughterI have a right to this flat!» Sophie shrieked hysterically down the line.
«Well, tough luck,» I replied calmly. «You dont have a flat. We gave it to Emily. She owns it now, and your dad and I want nothing to do with you. Youre not our daughter. Dont call againyou lost everything!» I ended the conversation with brutal efficiency. After what Sophie had done, she deserved every word.
Staring out the window, it struck me that our story had also begun with a phone call.
That dreadful call came early one morning. I stumbled out of bed and rushed to the landline.
«Hello?»
A stifled sob came from the other end.
«Yes, hello? Who is this?»
«Margaret, its me, Alice.»
«Alice, you scared me! Do you know what time it is?»
«I do. Margaret, Im going into hospital today for an operation, and Im terrified for Emily. Please, you and Thomas, dont abandon hershes still so little. Dont send her to an orphanage.»
My sister Alice had always been eccentricimaginative, impulsive, never conventional. But this time, shed crossed a line.
My fingers twisted the phone cord nervously. Something was terribly wrong, though I couldnt quite grasp what. Fear prickled down my spine.
«Alice, why didnt you tell me sooner? Whats wrong? Where are they taking you?»
Alice had been ill for years but never made a fuss. The last month, though, the pain worsened. She lost weight, grew gaunt. The diagnosis was grim. She needed urgent surgery but couldnt bring herself to tell me. Id already helped her constantlygave her money, acted like a second mother. And now she was dumping her problemsand her little girlon me again.
«Margaret, they cant guarantee the operations success. Please, dont leave Emily alone.»
An hour later, we were at the hospital. The surgery hadnt started yet, but we werent allowed to see Alice. In the hallway, curled up in a chair, was little Emily. I hugged her tight.
«Are they going to hurt Mummy?» she whispered, eyes brimming with tears.
«No, darling. Mummy wont feel a thingshell be asleep.»
Four hours later, the doctor emerged to tell us my younger sister hadnt made it.
We took Emily home. I walked into my daughters room and broke the newsEmilys mother was gone, and shed be sharing the room from now on. Sophie glared at me but stayed silent.
Ten days later, Sophie tossed Emilys things into the hallway and banned her from the room. Reasoning with my daughter was impossibleshe dug her heels in, swearing shed do it every time we tried to move Emily back. To avoid all-out war, we gave our niece our bedroom and moved into the living room.
Emily was an orphan. Alice had never told us who her father was. Now, her future rested entirely with us. So we never treated her differently from Sophieboth were our daughters.
Time passed. Sophie graduated uni and married a wealthy older man. Neither the age gap nor the money bothered her. She packed her bags and moved in with Simon within weeks. A month later, she announced the wedding.
«Mum, just promise me your precious little suck-up Emily wont be there. I dont want her near my wedding.»
«Sophie, thats unacceptable. Emilys your sister, and excluding her insults us.»
«Shes not coming!» Sophie snapped.
«Then neither are we.»
«Fine! Suits me!»
I burst into tears, then pulled myself together and decided to book a holiday in Brighton instead.
«What about Sophies wedding?» Thomas asked, baffled.
«Nothing. Were not invited.»
«Emily, help me find a nice getaway.»
«Were going on holiday?» Emily asked.
«Yes, love. We deserve it.»
«Hurrah!» she cheered, spinning around the room.
The three of us stayed close. Emily finished school with top marks and got into uni to study architecture. Her mother, Alice, had been a brilliant painterwell-known in her circles. Emily had her talent.
«Or her fathers,» Thomas would mutter, suspecting some local bigwig was Emilys dad.
I ignored that. Emily was ours.
A year later, we celebrated Emilys 18th birthdayonly for Thomas to collapse, pale and unconscious. The ambulance rushed him to hospital. The doctors said it was serious. Only an expensive imported drug could save him, but it cost a fortune. Desperate, I called Sophie, knowing Simon could easily lend the money.
She answered. I explained the crisis.
«Sophie, darling, your dads critically ill. We need this medicine urgently, but the price is astronomical. Could you lend us the money?»
Silence. Just as I went to repeat myself, she spoke.
«Alright, Mum. Ill talk to Simon and call you back.»
An hour later, she rang.
«Mum, thing is Simons finally buying me that new car he promised. And hes given me an ultimatumthe car or helping you.»
«Sophie, well pay you back, I swear.»
«Dont be daft. When would that be? Bit by bit? Id never see that car in my dreams.»
«Are you hearing yourself? Your father could die!»
«I cant help. Get a loan if youre that desperate. The world doesnt revolve around you.»
The phone slipped from my hand. I nearly fainted.
«Aunt Margaret, whats wrong?»
Emily caught me before I hit the floor. I sobbed uncontrollably.
«Listen, Aunt Margaretlets sell Mums flat. I cant stand being there five minutes anyway. Well price it low, get the deposit fast, and pay the doctors. Uncle Thomass life is what matters.»
«Love, we cantits yours. What would your mother think?»
«Aunt Margaret, be sensible! Who cares what Mum would think? Uncle Thomas could die. We have to act now.»
I hugged her, overwhelmed. She was right. We sold the flat that day for a decent sum. The buyer paid a deposit, and with the cash, we got the medicine just in time.
It worked. Thomas recovered fully within a month. Our joy was boundless. Once he was well, we transferred the flat to Emilys nameher gratitude was tearful. The leftover money went into savings.
We lived happilyuntil that late-night call.
Sophie, left by Simon, demanded to come home.
I said no.
«We only have one daughter: Emily,» I told her, and hung up.
A few years later, Emily married James, a successful farmer with a sprawling countryside estate. They invited us to move in, but we preferred visiting weekly. Our room was always readytidy, welcoming. Thomas and James bonded over fishing. Emily designed a small cannery for the farm. We were one big, happy familyjust not always under the same roof.
The only time we remembered Sophie was on her wedding daythe same day Thomas and I had left for Brighton, a tradition we kept for years. Emily often joined us.
Every year, I wondered how Id raised a daughter who valued a luxury car over her fathers life. And Emily, orphaned so young, gave up everything for us. Somewhere along the way, shed become the daughter wed always wanted.
