The Betrayal
«Guess what? I taught little Tommy how to play cards!» Granny Polly announced cheerfully.
«Why?» Exhausted from her shift, Emma frownedTommy had only just turned six.
«Well, imagine he visits someone, and they sit down for a game!» the old woman explained. «Hell join in! Good for socialising, isnt it?»
You could understand hershed been raised in post-war Britain, where cards and dominoes were considered fine pastimes. And this wasnt happening now, but back in the stagnant 70s. So, deal the cards and play!
Granny Polly had come to babysit her great-grandson, baby Alfie. Tommy hovered nearby, hating nursery with a passion.
The boy was fiercely independenta latchkey kid with a packed lunch in his thermos. Normal back then, though nowadays some wont wean their kids till theyre forty.
The estate wasnt badcosy, surrounded by four blocks of flats. It even had a ping-pong table and a decent playground with swings and a sandpit.
Then there was the «Bright Lights» shop in one of the buildings. Alongside lampshades and chandeliers, for some reason, they sold furniture.
And furniture is heavy. Unloading it didnt exactly inspire joy.
So the kids often brought home colourful new vocabularywords starting with B, S, even C. «Mum, what does… mean?»
They called them «lightbulb words»suddenly illuminating.
But these were small flaws in a place that felt safe. You didnt worry about kids playing outsidethe delivery men even kept an eye on them!
Emma had married first, swept off her feet by a classmate and pregnant before she knew it. Later, her mother-in-law, who worked at a nursery, took the boy during the week so Emma could finish medical school.
After that, both she and her husband became GPsback when placements were still assigned.
Pretty Lucy didnt marry until twenty-fivelate by the standards of the time.
The sisters couldnt have been more different. Quick, wiry, dark-haired Emma was the opposite of slow, curvy, fair Lucy.
But both were strikingblack and white, not just contrast but two halves of a whole.
People often asked about their father»Sure youve got the same one?»
«Not sure at all!» theyd snap, though they got on brilliantly.
Dad had died years ago. Mum had long since moved on, leaving the flat to her grown daughters while dodging questions. «Why dyou care? Course hes your dad! The only one!»
Until twenty-four, Lucy played men like a fiddleher heart still asleep, though she had her flings.
She met her future husband at a party a few years after schoola friend of an old classmate, Mark Simmons.
She even agreed to a date with Peter. But came back disgusted.
«Youll never guess what he asked me!» Lucy fumed.
«What?» Emma braced herselfit mustve been outrageous.
«Whether Id worn thermal knickers! Can you believe it?» She wrinkled her nose. «So dull!»
Yes, the manthree years older and smittenhad simply shown concern. It was freezing, after all, and everyone wore fleece-lined underwear.
Nothing wrong with thatjust care for a silly girls health. But youth is merciless. So sensitive Peter was rejected, knickers and all.
He reappeared seven years later. By then, Lucy had toyed with plenty of admirers but remained alone, still sharing the two-bed with Emmas family.
Suddenly, suitors had… vanished. After New Years, Lucy stayed homeno one had invited her.
Then Emma found a needle sewn into her sisters quilt. Someone had cursed hera hex, a love spell, something darker.
Lucy had loads of friends who often slept overthe flat was near the Tube, ideal for uni and work. Convenient for everyone.
The needle was pulled out, and soon after, Lucy bumped into Peterfate, clearly. Now, his question about thermals sounded different. «So thoughtful, isnt he?» She said yes.
By then, Peter had a PhD in maths. He moved in, marking his arrival with a new enamel kettle and sofa.
«But weve already got a kettle?» Emma said.
«This ones yours,» the mathematician explained. «That ones ours.»
For the first time, tension crept between the sistersPeters kettle was nicer. More expensive.
His parents were well-off, unlike Emmas husband, whom Mum privately called a «waste of space.»
The plan was to swap the two-bed for two one-beds with a top-upno way to do it without extra cash. Peters parents promised to help.
Time passed. Alfie arrived. Lucy went back to work, and clever Peter «recruited» Granny Polly to babysit.
One day, Emma came home earlyfeverish, probably caught from patients. Her appointments were handed off. «Get well soon, Dr. Bennett!»
The flat was darkasleep, probably.
Inside was a sickbayLucy off work with Alfie, and husband Jack, slightly feverish. Tommy, as always, was home.
Quietly, Emma unlocked the door. Then frozestrange noises. Please, let the kids be alright.
Still in her coat, she peered into the room. In the fading light, six-year-old Tommy and drooling Alfie sat on the carpet, cards in handTommy teaching his brother to play «for society.»
«Wheres Dad?» Emma asked.
«Dad and Aunt Lucy are washing clothes in the bathroom!» Tommy said, then to Alfie, who could barely hold his card: «Ill go firstcover it!»
Granny Pollys lessons had borne fruit.
«How long have they been washing?» Emmas heart pounded.
«The big hand was on six, now its on nine!»
Fifteen minutes. With me, hes «washed» far less.
She felt sick. So this was why Lucy kept delaying the moveridiculous excuses about the door or distance from the Tube. Now she knew.
Did Peter know? Unlikely. His parents wouldnt tolerate thisthey were even willing to pay extra.
Still in her coat, Emma waited outside the bathroom. Soon, flushed Jack and Lucy emerged, stunned.
«Youre supposed to be at work!»
«Came to help with the washingthought you might struggle!» Emma said coldly. «Done already? Hang it up, then.»
«Its not what you think!» Jack stammered. What else could he say?
«Fine.» Emmas voice was ice. «Show me the laundry. Maybe you can talk your way out.»
Go on, think of something! Say you had a fever, delirious, and Lucy cooled you with compresses!
Surely youve got a backup plan, you idiots?
They stood dumblyno plan. It had all been going so well…
«Both of youout.»
Lucy snatched Alfie and fled. Jack sent Tommy out to playstill lightthen begged. «It was a mistake, love! I only want you! She came onto me!»
Quotes from *The Italian Job* had long since entered public lexicon.
But Emma, frozen, didnt react. Shed been betrayed. Probably for ages.
Later, she learned Dad and Aunt Lucy «washed» oftenhow tidy.
Soon, slightly feverish Jack (37.1°C) was kicked out. Contact with Lucy dwindled.
Emma said nothing to Peter. If he knew, hed divorce Lucy, trapping them together in that two-bed indefinitely.
Instead, Lucy agreed to the first flat swaptwo one-beds with a top-up.
Divorced Emma ended up in a tiny council flatfour-square-metre kitchen, «coffin» bathroom (as the cramped combined loo-shower was called). But it was hers.
Jack crawled back to his parents, clawing for sympathy. No luck.
One evening, Emma returned from her new clinic. QuietTommy playing.
He was self-sufficient, her Tommy. Missed his cousin, but made do.
Now he sat on the rug. Propped against a chair-leg was a giant teddy. Cards fanned out before itTommy teaching his plush friend to play «for society.»
Then she heard him murmur fondly, «Teddy, you muppet, whyd you lead with trumps?»
Hello, Granny Polly. And cheers to the «lightbulb-word» delivery lads from Bright Lights. Missing us? Hope youre not hiccuping too much.
