I thought we were friends, yet youve taken my husband away, Emily shouted, her voice cracking. She slammed the sketchbook shut with a force that rattled the cheap wooden table. To you its all childs play, nonsense!
Emily, thats not what I meant, Helen whispered, pressing her palms to her temples. A throbbing headache, which had begun at dawn, now hammered at the back of her skull. Im just saying that a designers life is unstableorders one day, none the next. An accountant is a steady loaf of bread, always there.
That loaf is yours, not mine! Emily leapt from her chair, lightning flashing in her eyes. I dont want to spend my life counting numbers like you. I want to create, to make beauty. Aunt Grace gets me; shes the only one who believes in my talent.
The mention of Grace made Helens heart twist unpleasantly. Again Graceher best friend, her rock in the darkest times, now had become a greater authority to her daughter than her own mother.
Grace lives in another world, love. She runs a successful salon, can afford to talk about lofty things. Were scraping from paycheck to paycheck.
Exactly! Emily wailed, snatching her coat and bolting for the door. I wont live like that!
The front door slammed, and a ringing silence hung over the tiny tworoom flat. Helen sank into a chair, cradling her head. Each such argument drained her completely. At fortyfive, the last ten years shed been carrying everything alone. After James, her husband and Lucys father, had left, leaving a pile of unpaid bills and a vague sorry, weve become strangers, life turned into a relentless survival race. She worked at the local library, took odd jobs typing up manuscripts at night, and denied herself anything so Lucy might have everything she needed.
And through it all, Grace had been there. Theyd been schoolmates, sharing a desk. Bright, selfassured Grace and quiet, homebound Helen. When the divorce hit, Grace pulled Helen from the abyss of despair. She brought groceries, took her for walks, listened for hours to her sobs. Well get through this, love, she would say, hugging her tightly. Hell bite his elbows when he sees what a woman hes lost.
Helen clung to that hope. She rose, shook herself, and kept movingfor her daughter. Grace had become almost family, a godmother to Lucy, the Aunt Grace who always understood.
Helen drifted to the window. The evening city lights glittered. Somewhere out there her angry daughter roamed, probably heading to Graces cosy studio in the centre, where the air smelled of expensive coffee and haircare products, soft music played, and conversations drifted to lofty art without the worry of paying the gas and electricity bills.
The kitchen phone buzzed. Helen picked it up. A text from Grace: Lucy is with me. Dont worry, Ill talk to her. Itll be fine. A sting of irritation mixed with gratitude rose in Helen. Part of her was relieved Lucy was in safe hands; another part burned that Grace once again played the peacemaker, as if Helen were incapable of handling her own child.
She poured herself a cheap tea bag, sat at the table, and stared at an old framed photograph: the three of themHelen, James, and a baby Lucy nestled in Helens arms. Young, happy. She could barely recall Jamess face nowtall, darkhaired, eyes crinkled with laughter. He loved jazz, strong coffee, and travel books. He vanished one evening, packed a bag, said he needed to be alone, and a week later called to say he wouldnt be coming back.
Graces voice floated from the kitchen, soothing: Hes a fool, Helen, just a fool. Youll meet someone better. But Helen never did; her whole life revolved around Lucy.
The next days passed in strained silence. Lucy returned from school, ate, and shut herself in her room. Helen dared not start a conversation, fearing another clash. On Saturday morning Grace called.
Hey, Helen! Ive got an emergencyhealth inspector is dropping by, and my cleaner called in sick. Could you lend a hand? Come over, well tidy a bit, and maybe you and Lucy can make peace. She was about to come to me anyway.
Helen hesitated, feeling guilt and duty, but the thought of finally talking to Lucy on neutral ground tipped her decision.
Ill be there in an hour, she said.
Graces salon, Cleopatra, greeted her with gleaming mirrors and a scent of floral perfume. Grace, immaculate in a tailored trouser suit, met her at the entrance.
Helen, my saviour! she exclaimed, planting a kiss on Helens cheek. Change into something comfy. The jobs simple: dust the showroom, mop the floor. Ill handle the paperwork. Lucy will be here soon.
Helen slipped into an old Tshirt in the back room and began sweeping. She didnt envy Graces success; Grace had always been driven, earning everything she had. Yet, in that palace of beauty and abundance, Helen felt her own instability keenly.
She was finishing the floor when Lucy entered, eyes narrowing at the sight of her mother with a mop.
Lucy, we need to talk, Helen said quietly.
About what? About me giving up my dream and going to some boring college? Lucy snapped.
No. About us.
At that moment Grace emerged from her office, two smartphones in handhers and a clients, left charging.
Oh, girls, dont argue! she beamed, her disarming smile bright. Helen, dont be angryshes just a kid with big ambitions. Lucy, your mum only wants the best for you. Lets have some tea. Ill brew your favourite, with a pinch of cinnamon.
She set the phones on the receptionists desk and disappeared into the staff room. Helen exhaled. Nothing would work, she thought. Lucy buried herself in her phone. Helens eyes drifted to the two devices. One screenGracessuddenly lit up with a short message from a contact signed simply J. Missing your coffeeand you.
Helens heart missed a beat. J. James? No, absurd. Grace had once mentioned a fling with a complicated, divorced, interesting man, but could it be James? Millions of men in England have names starting with J. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the ridiculous suspicion.
The conversation with Lucy never happened that day. They sipped tea while Grace chattered about the latest hair trends, Lucy nodded, and Helen sat mute, feeling an invisible wall rise between her and the people she loved. That message haunted her.
Later at home she pulled out an old notebook, found Jamess number, long unused. Why keep it? Just in case. Her hand reached for the phone. What would she say? Hi, its me. How are you? Silly. She put it down.
A few days later Grace invited them to the cinema. In the dim hall a romcom played while Helen covertly watched Grace. Grace kept pulling out her phone, typing quickly, smiling at something. Once Helen glanced and saw the same J. initial flashing on the screen.
After the film they lingered at a café.
Oh, Helen, Im thrilled! Grace exclaimed, stirring sugar into her cup. I think Ive truly fallen in love. Hes reliable, smart. With him I feel like Im behind a stone wall.
Were happy for you, Aunt Grace, Lucy replied. Who is he? Do we know him?
No, hes not from our circle. We met by chance. Hes recently returned to town after years up north.
Up north Helen recalled James had taken a rotational job in Sheffield after their split. Coincidence? Too many coincidences. A cold shiver ran down Helens spine.
Whats his name? she asked, trying to sound indifferent.
Igor Grace started, then hurriedly changed the subject. Oh, Lucy, theres a notice for a prestigious art school taking prep students. Maybe you could apply? I can fund it.
Helens mind raced. Igor. The name echoed the past. Her best friend, the woman whod soothed her after the divorce, was now seeing the man who had been her husband. The vague sketch of their friendship sharpened into a grotesque picture. Graces encouragement of Lucys lofty dreams now seemed a ploy to win the daughter shed once consoled, just as shed taken the husband shed lost.
Mother, whats happening? Lucys voice snapped Helen out of her stupor. You look pale.
Nothing, Helen answered hoarsely. Just a headache. Lets go home.
Back in the flat, Helen locked herself in the bathroom, turning the shower on so Lucy couldnt hear her sobs. The tears were bitter, scorching. It wasnt just betrayal by James; it was the deepest treachery a close friend could commit. She wept not for the man shed loved, who was already a ghost, but for the friendship that had been trampled, for the naïveté that had kept her blind for a decade.
She realised she had to act, but how? A public scene? An accusation? Too simple, too humiliating. She decided to wait for undeniable proof.
A week later Graces birthday arrived. She threw a party at a countryside restaurant and invited Helen and Lucy.
Do come, Helen! Ill introduce you to my James, Grace chirped on the phone. Youll love him.
Helen felt a tightening in her chest.
Yes, Grace. Well be there.
The whole day swirled in a fog. She chose a dress, did her hair, applied makeup, and stared in the mirror at a strangers face with feverbright eyes. Lucy, oblivious, spun around, excited for the celebration.
The restaurant glittered with live music, whitecloth tables, and elegantly dressed guests. Grace, radiant in a silver gown, flitted from guest to guest. Spotting Helen, she rushed over.
At last! Come in, my dears! Helen, you look stunning! Let me bring you James! Over here!
He stepped forward, older, silver at his temples, but unmistakably James. He froze when he saw Helen, a mix of surprise, fear, and shame crossing his features.
Helen? he muttered.
Good afternoon, she replied coldly, meeting his gaze.
Grace fumbled, glancing between them.
You know each other?
Yes, Helen said with a bitter smile. Hes my exhusband. Lucys father.
The room fell silent. The music seemed to stop. All eyes were on the three of them. Graces face turned ashen. Lucys eyes darted between her mother, James, and her beloved Aunt Grace, bewilderment etched across her face.
Mother, is it true? she whispered.
Yes, dear. Hes your father.
Helen stepped toward Grace, who clutched Jamess arm as if afraid he would disappear.
Happy birthday, friend, Helen said quietly but clearly. I thought we were friends. Turns out you not only soothed me in my darkest hour but also stole what Id lost. Was it easy, cheating with my husband behind my back? Giving me advice on betrayal while committing an even deeper one?
Grace stammered, I didnt know how to say it. It just happened We met six months ago, he never told me
Hes your friends husband? Helen snapped. You knew everything.
She turned to James.
Youre nothing but a coward. You left one woman, ran to another. Nothing changes.
She took Lucys hand. The girl stared at her, eyes wide and tearfilled.
Lets leave, love. We dont belong here.
They walked out of the hall under astonished gazes. At the doorway, Helen glanced back. Grace stood alone, bewildered, while James stared at the floor, invisible to them.
The drive home was quiet. In the flat, Lucy burst into tears.
Mum, how could Aunt Grace? And Father?
Helen held her, stroking her hair.
Shh, my dear, shh. People sometimes do terrible things, even those we love. What matters is that we have each other.
That night they sat at the kitchen table for hours. Helen spoke of her life with James, of her friendship with Grace, revealing everything. Lucy listened, her childish resentment melting into adult understanding.
The next day Grace cut off contact. Helen ignored the flood of apologetic messages. A few days later James appeared at their door.
Helen, we need to talk, he said, eyes downcast.
Theres nothing to discuss, she snapped. Leave.
But Lucyshes my daughter!
You only remembered that now? Ten years it meant nothing to you. Go, James. Dont come back.
She slammed the door shut, pressing her back against it. Her heart hammered, not from pain but from relief, as if a massive weight finally dropped.
Life moved on, harder than before. The void left by Grace was hard to fill. Occasionally, late at night, her hand reached for the phone to call a friend, to gossip, but she stopped herself. That friend no longer existed.
Her relationship with Lucy changed. They grew closer than ever. Lucy matured overnight, stopped demanding the impossible, began helping around the house, and earned a modest side incomepainting portraits for online commissions.
One evening Lucy placed a bundle of money on the table.
Here, Mum. Its for the prep course. I earned it myself.
Helen looked at her daughters serious, grownup face, tears springing to her eyes.
Youre my pride, she whispered.
No, Mum, youre mine, Lucy answered, hugging her tightly. Youre the strongest.
Helen held her daughter, realizing she hadnt lost everything. She had lost a friend and an illusion, but she had gained something far greaterher childs respect and love. That was the most important thing. The future would be new, hard, but honest. Together, mother and daughter would face it, side by side.
