**Diary Entry 30th April**
*»We werent expecting you,» my daughter said as she opened the door on my birthday.*
*»Why do you always interfere in my life?» Emilys voice was sharp with irritation. «Im thirty-seven, Mum. A grown woman!»*
*»Im not interfering,» Helen replied helplessly, spreading her hands. «I only asked why you and James split up. Im your motherits natural for me to worry.»*
*»Exactly. Youre my mother, not a detective,» Emily turned to the window. «I have my own life. My own reasons.»*
Helen sighed, carefully folding an unfinished scarf into her bag. Another strained conversation with her daughter. The wall between them seemed to grow taller every year.
*»Fine, I wont ask again,» she said gently. «I just thought you two were happy…»*
*»Mum!» Emily spun around. «Lets drop it, alright? Dont ruin our first family dinner in a month.»*
Helen nodded and fell silent. She visited less and lessEmily was always busy with work, friends, the gym, some new course. There was hardly any time left for her mother.
Leaving her daughters flat that evening, Helen felt lonelier than ever. Her sixtieth birthday was in a week, and there was no one to celebrate with. Her husband had passed three years ago; old friends had scattered. Emily was wrapped up in her own world. Maybe it wasnt worth marking the occasion.
But at home, flipping through old photos, she found one of little Emily blowing out candles, eyes shining with delight. Helen had worked as an accountant then, barely making ends meet, but shed always made sure birthdays were specialcake, presents, friends.
*»My birthdays next week,» she thought, «and even my daughters forgotten. Should I remind her?»*
She reached for her phone but stopped. No, she wouldnt beg for attention. If Emily had forgotten, so be it. What did sixty even mean? Just another number.
Yet the thought gnawed at her. Days later, she finally called.
*»Hi, Mum,» Emilys voice was distant, as if multitasking. «Everything alright?»*
*»Yes, nothings wrong,» Helen hesitated. «I just wanted to say its my birthday on Saturday. Ill be sixty.»*
*»Oh! Really?» A flicker of surprise. «Completely slipped my mind. Works been mad…»*
*»Its fine,» Helen said quickly. «Just thought Id mention it.»*
*»Sorry, Mum,» Emily softened. «Ill try to stop by. Around five?»*
*»Of course, love,» Helen brightened. «Ill bake your favourite cherry pie.»*
*»Perfect. Got to dashwell talk later.»*
Hanging up, Helen felt a rush of energy. She hadnt been forgotten after all. Maybe there was hope for them yet.
Saturday was unseasonably sunny for April. Helen woke early, cleaned the house, baked the pie, even got her hair done. She bought a bottle of wine, Emilys favourite cheese, fresh fruit. She wanted the evening to be warm, specialmaybe even bridge the distance between them.
But by five, Emily hadnt arrived. Nor by six. Helen called, but her daughters phone was off.
*»Stuck at work, maybe,» she thought, glancing at the clock. «Or traffic. The city centres always gridlocked.»*
By seven, still no answer. Helens worry spiralledwhat if something had happened? An accident? A robbery?
Unable to bear it, she took a taxi to Emilys. Perhaps shed mixed up the days. With her hectic schedule, it wouldnt be surprising.
Approaching the building, Helen spotted cars outsideone looked like Emilys. So she was home. Nothing terrible had happened. Just forgotten?
Her heart heavy, Helen climbed to the fifth floor and rang the bell. After a long pause, footsteps, then the door swung open.
Emily stood theredressed up, hair styled, makeup flawless. Behind her, laughter and chatter.
*»Mum?» Emily blinked. «We werent expecting you…»*
Helen froze, clutching the bouquet shed bought herselfa pitiful attempt to brighten a lonely celebration.
*»II was worried,» she stammered. «You didnt come, didnt answer…»*
A man appeared behind Emilytall, bearded, in a crisp shirt and jeans.
*»Em, whos?» He spotted Helen. «Oh! Hello!»*
*»This is my mum,» Emily said, then turned back. «Mum, this is Andrew. Were seeing each other.»*
*»Lovely to meet you,» Helen managed, shaking his hand.*
*»Pleasures mine,» Andrew smiled. «Emilys told me so much about you.»*
From inside, a womans voice called: *»Em, how long? The pastas getting cold!»*
*»Coming!» Emily shouted, then winced at Helen. «Weve got a bit of a gathering. I completely forgot about our plans. Im so sorry.»*
A lump rose in Helens throat. On her birthday, her daughter was hosting friends without a second thought.
*»Its fine,» she forced a smile. «Ill go. I dont want to intrude.»*
*»Wait,» Emily frowned. «Since youre here, come in. Meet everyone.»*
Helen stepped inside hesitantly. The flat buzzed with energyvoices, clinking cutlery, the hum of a party.
*»Were planning a surprise for Lucy,» Emily explained, taking Helens coat. «Her fortieths next week.»*
*»And mine is today,» Helen thought but stayed silent. Why spoil Emilys night? She had her own life.
In the kitchen, a lively grouptwo women around Emilys age, another manpored over notes and props.
*»Guys, this is my mum,» Emily announced. «Mum, these are my friendsSophie, Claire, and Tom.»*
*»Hello!» they chorused.*
Helen nodded, feeling out of place. An unwelcome guest at a young persons gathering.
*»Hungry, Mum?» Emily asked. «Andrew made seafood pasta and salad.»*
*»No, no, Ive eaten,» Helen retreated. «I should go.»*
*»Dont be silly,» Andrew cut in. «Stay for dessert. Weve got cake.»*
Helen eyed the chocolate-frosted cake on the table. Not for her. No sixty candles.
*»Thank you, but I really must»*
*»Mum,» Emily pulled her aside. «Why did you come? Is something wrong?»*
Helen hesitated. Did she genuinely forget? Or was this pretence?
*»Todays my birthday, Emily,» she said quietly. «Sixty. You promised to come at five.»*
Emilys face drained of colour. Shock, guilt, horrorall in a split second.
*»Oh God,» she whispered. «Mum, Im so sorry! With Lucys party planning, it justI forgot!»*
Helen shrugged, feigning nonchalance. *»Its just a birthday. Doesnt matter.»*
*»It does!» Emily grabbed her hands. «Sixty is huge! And IIm such an idiot!»*
She dashed to the kitchen, leaving Helen in the hall. Muffled voices, gasps, then Emily returned, the group trailing behind.
*»Helen,» Andrew said warmly, «were throwing you an impromptu birthday dinner.»*
*»Yes!» Sophie chimed in. «Well rearrange everything!»*
*»No, really, you dont have to»*
*»We insist,» Emily said firmly. «Mum, stay. Were celebrating you.»*
Before Helen could protest, she was seated at the table, champagne poured, candles (scrounged from Emilys «romantic stash») wedged into the cake.
*»Toast!» Andrew raised his glass. «Helen, though weve just met, its clear youre remarkable. No wonder Emilys so wonderful. Happy birthday!»*
*»And may your daughter never forget again,» Tom added, earning an elbow from Emily.
Laughter filled the room. The evening, against all odds, became joyfulstories shared, old photos unearthed, warmth rekindled.
Helen returned home after midnight, Andrew insisting on driving her. Emily came along.
*»Mum, can I stay?» she asked at the door. «Talk properly…»*
*»Another time, love,» Helen smiled. «Im tired. Go back to your friends.»*
*»Theyve probably left,» Emily shrugged. «I want to be with you. Ive missed so much…»*
In Helens tiny kitchen, they ate cherry piethe one baked for Emilys visit.
*»Mum,» Emily said suddenly, «Im sorry. Truly.»*
*»Its alright. Youre busy»*
*»No excuse,» Emilys eyes glistened. «Youre my mother. My only one. I dont want you feeling forgotten.»*
They talked until dawnabout James (not ready for commitment), Andrew (met in a bookshop, reaching for the same novel), Emilys dream of opening a design studio.
Helen listened, advised, just like when Emily was a teenager confiding secrets.
Three days later, Emily returnedwith flowers, a cake, and a real gift: a holiday to Brighton, where theyd gone when Emily was small.
*»My treat,» Emily said firmly. «Youve done so much for me. Now its my turn.»*
Sipping tea, Helen realised sometimes you must arrive uninvited to remind someone you exist. And even if youre not expectedit doesnt mean youre not wanted.
