**Diary Entry A Late-Night Call**
The phone rang late last night, shattering the quiet. I picked up, and my daughters voice trembled through the line.
«Mum, its me, Emily. Ive got a problem! My husbands thrown me out. Im coming to stay with you and Dad tomorrow.»
«Listen, Emily,» I replied calmly, «you no longer have parents or a home.»
«What?» she gasped. «What did you say? How can there be no home? Im your only daughterI have a right to this flat!» Her voice rose, hysterical.
«Thats just it,» I answered evenly. «You dont. We gave it to Charlotte. She owns it now, and your father and I want nothing more to do with you. Youre not our daughter. Dont call againyou lost everything.» I ended the call decisively. After what shed done, I had every right.
Staring out the window, I remembered how this all began with another phone call years ago.
That wretched call came early one morning. I stumbled out of bed and hurried to the landline.
«Hello?»
A stifled sob crackled down the line.
«Hello? Who is this?»
«Margaret, its me, Sophie.»
«Sophie, why are you frightening me like this? Do you know what time it is?»
«I do,» she whispered. «Margaret, Im going into hospital today for an operation. Im terrified for Charlotte. Please, you and Georgedont abandon her. Dont send her to an orphanage.»
My sister Sophie had always been eccentricwhimsical, unconventional. But this was beyond reason. My grip tightened on the receiver. Something was terribly wrong, though I couldnt yet grasp what. Fear coiled in my chest.
«Sophie, why tell me now? Whats happened? Where are they taking you?»
Shed been unwell for years but never made a fuss. The past month, thoughthe pain worsened. She grew thin, gaunt. The diagnosis was grim. She needed urgent surgery but couldnt bring herself to tell me. I already supported her constantly, gave her money, acted as her lifeline. And 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 Sophie. In the corridor, little Charlotte sat curled into herself. I hugged her tight.
«Will they hurt Mummy?» she whispered, tears brimming.
«No, darling. Shell be asleepshe wont feel a thing.»
Four hours later, the doctor emerged. My younger sister was gone.
We took Charlotte home. I stepped into my daughters room and explained that Charlottes mother had diedshed be sharing the room now. Emily glared but stayed silent.
Ten days later, Emily flung Charlottes belongings into the hall and barred her from returning. Reasoning with her was futileshe vowed to do it every time we tried. To keep the peace, we gave Charlotte our room and moved into the lounge.
Charlotte was an orphan. Sophie had never revealed who her father was. Now her fate rested with us. From then on, we treated her no differently than Emily. Both were our daughters.
Years passed. Emily graduated, then marrieda wealthy older man. Neither his age nor his money bothered her. She packed her things and moved in with Richard.
A month later, she announced the wedding.
«Mum, just make sure your precious little favourite isnt there. I wont have her at my wedding.»
«Emily, thats unacceptable. Charlotte is your sisterexcluding her insults us.»
«Shes not coming!»
«Then neither are we.»
«Fine! Suit yourselves!»
I wept but steadied myself and booked a trip to Brighton.
«What about Emilys wedding?» George asked, startled.
«We werent invited.»
«Charlotte, help me find a nice holiday spot.»
«Were going away?» Her face lit up.
«Yes, love. We deserve it.»
«Hooray!» she cheered, spinning around the room.
The three of us stayed close. Charlotte finished school brilliantly and studied Architecture. Her mother had been a gifted painter, well-known in her field. Charlotte followed in her footsteps.
«Or her fathers,» George mused, suspecting a prominent local figure might be the man in question. I ignored it. Charlotte was ours.
A year later, we celebrated Charlottes eighteenth birthdaythe same day George collapsed, pale and unconscious. The ambulance took him to hospital.
The doctors words chilled me. His condition was critical. Only one medicine could save himexpensive, imported, exorbitantly priced. Desperate, I called Emily.
«Emily, darling, its your father. Hes illhe needs this medicine urgently. We must borrow the money.»
Silence. Then, finally:
«Alright, Mum. Ill speak to Richard and call you back.»
An hour later, she did.
«Mum, listen Richards promised me a new car. Hes had it planned for ages. But theres a conditioneither I get the car, or we give you the money.»
«Emily, well repay youevery penny!»
«Dont be daft. When would you ever manage that? If I help you, Ill never see that car.»
«Are you hearing yourself? Your father could die!»
«I cant help. Get a loan if youre desperate. The world doesnt revolve around you.»
The phone slipped from my hand. I nearly fainted.
«Aunt Margaret, whats wrong?» Charlotte caught me as I swayed. Sobs wracked my body.
«Listenwell sell Mums flat. I cant bear to live there anyway. Price it low, get the deposit to the doctors. PleaseUncle Georges life matters more!»
«My dear, we cantits yours! What would your mother think?»
«Aunt Margaret, be sensible! Who cares what Mum would think? Uncle George is dyingact now!»
I hugged her, overwhelmed. She was right.
We sold the flat that same dayquickly, for a fair sum. The buyer paid a deposit, and with the paperwork underway, we secured the medicine.
Two days later, it arrived. It worked. Charlotte saved Georges life. Within a month, he was fully recovered. Our joy was boundless.
Once he was well, we transferred the flat to Charlottes name. The solicitor updated the deeds. She was grateful beyond words. The leftover money went into savings.
Life was peacefuluntil that late-night call.
Emily, thrown out by Richard, demanded to come home.
«No,» I said. «We have one daughterCharlotte.»
Years later, Charlotte married James, a successful farmer with a country estate. She invited us to live with them, but we preferred visiting weekly.
Our room was always readyneat, welcoming. George and James fished together, planned the farm. Charlotte designed a small cannery. We lived in harmony, a happy family, even if not always under one roof.
The only time we thought of Emily was on her wedding daythe same day George and I left for Brighton, just as we had years before. Charlotte arranged our trips, sometimes joining us.
Every year on that date, I wondered how Id raised a daughter so selfish shed trade our lives for a luxury car. And Charlotteorphaned, losing her mother so youngvalued us above all. Shed have given everything for our happiness.
