A late-night call revealed my daughters voice.
The phone rang well past midnight. I picked up the receiver and heard my daughters frantic tone.
«Mum, its me, Emily. Ive got a problem! My husbands kicked me out. Ill come round with Dad tomorrow morning and stay at yours.»
«Listen, Emily, you dont have parents or a home anymore.»
«What?» she cut me off. «What did you say? How can there be no home? Im your only daughter. I have a right to this flat!» Emily shrieked hysterically down the line.
«Thats just how it is,» I replied calmly. «You dont have a flat. We gave it to Charlotteshe owns it now. And Dad and I want nothing more to do with you. Youre not our daughter. Dont call again. You lost everything!» I ended the conversation firmly. After what Emily had done, I had every right to say it.
Staring out the window, it struck me how this whole mess had also started with a phone call.
That wretched call came early one morning. I leapt out of bed and rushed to the landline.
«Hello?»
A stifled sob echoed down the line.
«Yes, hello? Whos this?»
«Margaret, its me, Grace.»
«Grace, why are you scaring me like this? Do you know what time it is?»
«I do. Margaret, Im being admitted to hospital today for an operation, and Im terrified for my daughter. Im begging you and Edwarddont abandon Charlotte. Shes still so little. Dont send her to an orphanage.»
Grace had always been eccentric, full of wild ideas and impulsive actions. But this time, shed gone too far.
I twisted the phone cord nervously, sensing something deeply wrong, though I couldnt grasp it yet. Fear prickled my skin.
«Grace, why didnt you tell me sooner? Whats happening? Where are they taking you?»
Grace had been ill for years but never made a fuss. Last month, the pain worsenedshe lost weight, grew gaunt. The diagnosis was grim. She needed urgent surgery but couldnt bring herself to tell me. Id already supported her endlessly, given her money, been like a mother to her. Now she was dumping her problemsand her young daughteron me again.
«Margaret, they cant guarantee the outcome. Please, dont abandon Charlotte.»
An hour later, we were at the hospital. The surgery hadnt started, but we werent allowed to see Grace. In the corridor, little Charlotte sat curled up. I hugged her tight.
«Are they hurting Mummy?» she whispered, tears in her eyes.
«No, love. Mummy wont feel a thing. Shell be asleep.»
Four hours later, the doctor emerged to say my younger sister had died.
We took Charlotte home. I walked into my daughters room and told her Charlottes mother had passed and the girl would share her room. Emily glared but stayed silent.
Ten days later, Emily threw Charlottes things out and barred her from returning. Reasoning with her was impossibleshe insisted shed keep doing it if we forced her. To avoid war, we gave Charlotte our bedroom and moved into the lounge.
Charlotte was an orphan. Grace never told us who her father was. Now her future rested with us. So we treated her and Emily as equalsboth were our daughters.
Years passed. Emily graduated and married a wealthy older man. The money and age gap didnt bother her. She packed up and moved in with Robert within weeks.
A month later, she announced the wedding.
«Mum, I just dont want that favourite of yoursthe little suck-upat my wedding. I refuse to see her.»
«Emily, you cant do this. Charlottes your sister. Not inviting her insults us.»
«She wont be there!» Emily snapped.
«Then neither will we.»
«Fine! Suits me!»
I burst into tears but pulled myself together and booked a spa break in Bath.
«What about Emilys wedding?» Edward asked, baffled.
«Nothing. Were not invited.»
«Charlotte, help me find a nice getaway.»
«Are we going on holiday?» she asked.
«Yes, love. We can afford it.»
«Hurrah!» she cheered, spinning around the room.
The three of us stayed close. Charlotte finished school brilliantly and got into university to study architecture. Grace had been a talented painter, locally renowned. Charlotte followed in her footstepsor, as Edward suspected, her unknown fathers. I didnt care. Charlotte was ours.
A year later, we celebrated Charlottes eighteenth. That same day, Edward collapsedpale, unconscious. The ambulance took him to hospital. The doctor said it was critical. Only an expensive imported drug could save him, but the cost was staggering. Desperate, I called Emily. Robert had money.
She picked up. I explained.
«Emily, darling, Dads illhe needs this medicine urgently. Could we borrow the money?»
Silence. Just as I started repeating myself, she replied.
«Alright, Mum. Ill talk to Robert and call back.»
The callback took an hour.
«Mum, listen Roberts promised me a new carhes wanted to for ages. But hes set a condition: either he buys the car, or we give you the money.»
«Emily, well pay you backevery penny.»
«Dont be silly. When would that happen? In drips and drabs? Id never see that car!»
«Are you hearing yourself? Your father could die!»
«I cant help. Get a loan.» The line went dead.
The receiver slipped from my hand. I nearly fainted.
«Aunt Margaret, whats wrong?» Charlotte caught me as I swayed. Sobs wracked me.
«Listenwell sell Mums flat. I cant stand being there anyway. Price it low for a quick sale. The deposit will cover the medicine.»
«Love, we cantits yours. What would Grace think?»
«Aunt Margaret, be sensible! Uncle Edwards life is at stake. Thats all that matters. We must act fast.»
I hugged her, overwhelmed with gratitude. She was right.
We sold the flat that dayfast, at a fair price. The buyer paid a deposit, so we secured the medicine.
Two days later, it arrived. The drug worked. Charlotte saved Edward. A month later, he was fully recovered. Our joy was boundless.
Once Edward was well, we transferred the flat to Charlottes name. The solicitor updated the deeds. She was tearfully grateful. The leftover money went into savings.
We lived happily until that late-night call.
It was Emily. Robert had thrown her outshe was coming home.
I said no.
«We have one daughter: Charlotte.» I hung up.
A couple of years later, Charlotte married James, a successful farmer. He owned a sprawling countryside home and planned to open a small cannery. She invited us to move in, but we preferred visiting weekly.
Our room was always ready. Edward and James fished together; he helped on the farm. Charlotte designed the cannery. We lived in harmonya happy family, just not always under one roof.
The only time we remembered Emily was on her wedding daythe same day Edward and I went to that spa in Bath, just as we had years before. Charlotte arranged our trips, sometimes joining us.
Every year on that date, I wondered how Id raised such a selfish girlone who valued a car over our lives. And Charlotte, orphaned so young, cherished us above all. Shed have given everything for our happiness.
