A late-night call revealed my daughters voice. The telephone rang in the dead of night, and when I lifted the receiver, I heard her frantic words.
«Mum, its me, Eleanor! Ive got a problem! My husbands thrown me out. Im coming to stay with you and Dad tomorrow.»
«Listen, Eleanor,» I replied calmly, «you no longer have parents or a home.»
«What?» she interrupted, her voice sharp. «What did you say? How can there be no home? Im your only daughterI have a right to this flat!»
«Thats where youre wrong,» I answered firmly. «The flat isnt yours. We gave it to Lucyshe owns it now. And your father and I want nothing more to do with you. Youre no longer our daughter. Dont call again. Youve lost everything.»
I ended the call decisively. After all Eleanor had done, I had every right to say it. Gazing out the window, my mind drifted back to how our story had also begun with a phone call.
That fateful ring had come early one morning. Startled, I rushed to pick up the receiver.
«Hello?»
A muffled sob came from the other end.
«Yes, hello? Who is this?»
«Margaret, its me, Alice.»
«Alice? Whats wrong? Do you know what time it is?»
«I do,» she whispered. «Margaret, Im heading to hospital for an operation, and Im terrified for my daughter. Please, I beg you and Arthurdont abandon Lucy. Shes still so young. Dont send her to an orphanage.»
My sister Alice had always been eccentricfull of wild ideas and unpredictable actions. But this crossed a line. My grip tightened on the receiver as dread coiled in my chest.
«Alice, why tell me now? Whats happened? Where are they taking you?»
Shed been unwell for years, though shed brushed it off. But in the last month, the pain had worsened. Shed grown thin, gaunt. The diagnosis was grim. She needed surgery at once. Yet she couldnt bring herself to tell me until now.
I had always helped hergiven her money, cared for her like a mother. And now she was piling her troubles, and her child, onto me once more.
«Margaret, they cant guarantee Ill survive. Please, dont abandon Lucy.»
An hour later, we arrived at the hospital. The operation hadnt yet begun, but we werent allowed to see Alice. In the corridor, curled into herself, sat little Lucy. I knelt and pulled her close.
«Are they going to hurt Mummy?» she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.
«No, darling. She wont feel a thingshell be asleep.»
Four hours later, the surgeon emerged with the news: my younger sister had passed away.
We took Lucy home. That evening, I entered my daughters room and explained that Lucys mother had diedshed be sharing the room from now on. Eleanor glared but stayed silent.
Ten days later, she flung Lucys belongings into the hall and barred her from the room.
Reasoning with my daughter was impossible. She stood firmif Lucy moved back in, shed throw everything out again. To keep the peace, we gave our niece our own bedroom and slept in the sitting room.
Lucy was an orphan. Alice had never revealed who her father was. Now her fate rested solely with us. So we made no distinction between Eleanor and Lucyboth were our daughters.
Years passed. Eleanor graduated university and married. Her husband, Richard, was wealthy and much older. Neither fact troubled her. She packed her things swiftly and left with him.
A month later, she announced the wedding.
«Mum, I just ask one thingdont bring that little favourite of yours, that fawning girl. I dont want her there.»
«Eleanor, you cant be serious. Lucy is your sister. Excluding her is an insult to us.»
«She wont be at my wedding!» Eleanor declared.
«Then neither will we.»
«Fine! Suit yourselves!»
I wept, but then steadied myself and resolved to leaveperhaps to Cornwall, somewhere peaceful.
«What about Eleanors wedding?» Arthur asked, bewildered.
«Nothing. Were not invited.»
«Lucy, help me find a holiday spot.»
«Are we going away?» she asked, brightening.
«Yes, love. We deserve it.»
«Hurrah!» my niece cheered, spinning around the room.
The three of us stayed together. Lucy finished school brilliantly and entered university to study Architecture. Her mother, Alice, had been a gifted painter, well-known in her field. Lucy followed in her footsteps.
«Or her fathers,» Arthur would say, suspecting a certain prominent figure in town might be Lucys father.
I paid no mind. Lucy was ours.
A year later, we celebrated Lucys eighteenth birthdaythe very day Arthur took ill. He turned ashen, then collapsed. The ambulance rushed him to hospital.
The doctors words were grim. Arthur was gravely ill. Only an expensive imported medicine could save him. It would arrive in three daysif we could pay the staggering cost.
Desperate, I called Eleanor. Richard had moneysurely theyd help.
She answered, and I poured out our plight.
«Eleanor, darling, your fathers sick. He needs this medicine urgently, but the costits impossible. Could you lend us the amount?»
Silence stretched. Just as I began to repeat myself, she spoke.
«Alright, Mum. Ill talk to Richard and call you back.»
An hour passed before her return call.
«Mum, listenRichards promised to buy me a new car. Hes finally agreed! But hes given me a choice: the car or lending you the money.»
«Eleanor, well repay youevery penny.»
«Dont be daft. How? In dribs and drabs? Id never see that car in my dreams!»
«Are you hearing yourself? Your father could die!»
«I cant help. Get a loan if you must. The world doesnt revolve around you.»
The receiver slipped from my hand. I nearly fainted.
«Aunt Margaret, whats wrong?»
Lucy caught me before I fell. I sobbed uncontrollably.
«Listen,» she said urgently. «Well sell Mums flat. I cant bear to live there anywayevery minute feels heavy. The most important thing is saving Uncle Arthur. Well price it low, get the advance to the doctors.»
«My dear, we cantits yours. What would your mother think?»
«Aunt Margaret, be sensible! This isnt the time to wonder. Uncle Arthurs life is at stake. We must act nowquickly and wisely.»
I hugged her, overwhelmed with gratitude. She was rightthis was our only chance.
We sold the flat that very day, fetching a fair sum. The buyer paid a deposit, and with the funds, we secured the medicine.
Two days later, it arrived. The treatment worked. Lucy had saved Arthurs life. Within a month, hed fully recovered. Our joy knew no bounds.
Once Arthur was well, we transferred the flats ownership to Lucy. At the solicitors office, the papers were signed in her name. She was tearfully grateful. The remaining money we placed in trust.
We lived happily togetheruntil that late-night call.
It was Eleanor, announcing her return. Richard had cast her out.
My answer was simple: «No. We have only one daughterLucy.»
A few years later, Lucy married. James was a farmerhis estate prosperous, his business thriving. He planned to open a cannery.
Our daughter invited us to live with them, but we chose to visit weekly instead. A tidy, welcoming room always awaited us. Arthur and James grew close, often fishing together. Arthur helped manage the land, while Lucy designed the cannery.
We lived in harmonya happy family, though not always under one roof. The only time we remembered Eleanor was on her wedding day, the same day Arthur and I had left for Cornwall all those years ago. Lucy arranged our trips now, sometimes joining us.
Every year on that day, I wondered how Id raised such a selfish girlone who valued a luxury car over her fathers life. And Lucy, orphaned so young, cherished us above all else. Shed given everything for our happiness.
