**Diary Entry A Found Family**
I sank into the armchair, exhausted. Quite the mansion, my university friend, Emily, remarked as she wandered through all four rooms. Turns out youre a proper heiress. I barely mustered a response. Why did you come? The faculty knows I was ill.
Emily flopped onto the old leather sofa, which groaned under her weight. I winced. The house was full of antiques, collected over decades by my family. Well? I pressed, eager to lie downI still felt dreadful.
Oh, she drawled, our course rep, James, asked me to check on you. He knew I lived nearby. You know how he fusses. Wanted to make sure you were alright, especially now youre all alone. Her poorly concealed envy seeped into her tone. Though, in a place like this
I forced myself up. Thanks for visiting, Emily. Tell James I appreciate the concern, but Im fine. She rose reluctantly, trailing me to the door. But on the threshold, she couldnt resist. Id kill to live here. Imagine the parties! Some people have all the luck. Without much interest, I asked, Who does? Emily blurted, The blessed ones. The odd ones out. I shut the door with a curt, Goodbye.
Sleep wouldnt come. Id lived here my whole life with my grandmother, Antoniastrict, formidable. From childhood, I was drilled in etiquette, French, German, and English. Shed switch languages without warning, expecting me to keep up.
I never knew my parents. Grandmother seldom spoke of her ungrateful daughtermy motherwhod had me with some man named Alexander before he lured her into a commune. Three years later, news came: theyd perished in a fire during some ritual or gathering. The details were spared me, not that I cared. Id never known them.
Few visitedZoe, the seamstress who dressed us; Dr. Edward, our elderly physician; Grandmothers friends, Elizabeth and Archibald; and Peter, a retired jeweller whod long fancied her.
School terrified me at firstso much noise! But I learned to navigate both worlds: Grandmothers refined one, and the chaos beyond our walls.
Then disaster struck. Grandmother, who never bought from strangers, suddenly brought home mushrooms. I walked past, and they reminded me of the mushroom soup Seraphina, our cook, used to make at the country house, shed said. The soup was divine. I had seconds.
She fell ill first, then me. Dr. Edwards phone was disconnectedhe was at his cottage. Grandmother resisted calling an ambulance, trusting only him. But when she fainted and my vision blurred, I dialled 999 with shaking hands. I barely made it to the door before collapsing.
Now, all thats left is the lossand survival. My stipend wont cover the flats upkeep, even with scrimping. Returning to university seems distant. After brushing death, I need timeand money.
Peter helped at first, buying a few heirlooms (cheating me, but it kept me afloat). Still, the bills loomed. Then I remembered: this was once a shared flat, given to my great-grandfather for his service.
I decided to take in lodgersthree, preferably decent women. I posted an ad online. Calls flooded in, but none were right: migrant workers, families with kids, giggling students asking if they could host parties.
When inquiries dried up, I considered an agency. But on my way, I saw a young woman with two children. A girl, about five, gnawed on a stale biscuit; a little boy sobbed in her lap. The womanHopewas shouting into her phone: Michael, how could you? The children are starving! Ive no milk left! Where do we go? Ive no one! She burst into tears.
I couldnt walk past. Excuse me, I said softly, offering a tissue. Do you need help? She sniffled. Not methem. My husband threw us out. No food, no shelter. I dont know what to do.
An hour later, the childrenMartha and Samuelwere fed and asleep. Hopes story unfolded: orphaned at twelve, raised in care, swindled out of her inheritance, then swept off her feet by Michaeluntil his mistress claimed him and their flat.
Stay with me, I said. Take a room. Well figure it out.
Then came Anthony, an elderly man evicted by his daughter-in-law after his sons death. Shed tricked him into signing over his home, then tossed him out. I found him being dragged into the cold by a neighbour and took him in.
Lastly, Paula blind young man robbed by his guardian and left homeless. I spotted him outside uni, bullied by boys tossing breadcrumbs he couldnt see. His lips trembled, but hunger kept him reaching.
Now, I have a family. Hope cleans at a shop; Paul minds the childrenno better storyteller exists. Anthony, once a chef, turns simple meals into feasts.
I dont regret a thing. When I come home, my found family is there, waiting.
