22October London
Im writing this because the whole mess with Emily has finally settled, and I need to put it straight on paper before it all blurs again.
It started when Emilys mum, Anne, whod been running a little bakery on Camden Road, suddenly fell ill. Shed built the shop from scratch after years of baking cakes to order from their flat. Emily, a shy, freckled girl of ten, was always at the art studio, taking piano lessons and learning to swim. When she told Anne she wanted to become a nursery teacher, her mother only smiled, saying it was the perfect job for a gentle soul like hers. Well make do, Anne would say, and Ill earn the bread and butter myself.
Just as Emily landed a parttime job after finishing college, Anne died of a serious illness. The doctor asked if anyone had noticed she was unwell, and Emily, bewildered, could only mutter that her mum had said she was just tired. I could hear the tears in her voice when she broke down.
Matt, a schoolmate of Emilys since Year1 and the only other person she trusted, tried to comfort her. You cant blame yourself, he said. Your aunt would never have wanted you to suffer, so she kept quiet. Matts own father had been away a lot, working long hours, so the boy grew up more at a computer than on a playground.
Emily was tormented by guilt, thinking she should have forced her mum to see a doctor. Then she discovered that the bakery and the flat were legally hers. I didnt know, she told Matt, the manager just handed me a letter and asked me to sign. I could hear the disbelief in her voice when she realised shed been signing away ownership without a clue.
The letter, written by Anne in her last days, said she loved her daughter and didnt want to upset her, but also gave Emily the name and address of her father: Thomas Whitaker, a man who lived on the other side of the city. Anne begged Emily to find him, promising hed help if needed.
Emily and I planned to go together, but Matts grandmother passed away in Manchester, and he had to travel for a week. He left her with a promise: Wait for me, well go together. She nodded, though she didnt truly obey.
When she knocked on the door of the flat listed under Thomass name, a young, stylish woman opened it. What do you want? she asked, rolling her eyes. Youre some lover who showed up two months ago, now theres a daughter? She slammed the door, but not before Emily heard a muffled male voice from inside: Liam, whos there?
Emily fled home, eyes brimming. The woman clearly didnt want her meeting her father. The next day, however, the womanLydiacalled Emily herself and arranged a meeting. Your mother left your number, she said, smiling politely. Your father isnt home; hes on a business trip.
A welldressed man in jeans and a smart jumper stepped forward, introduced himself as Thomas, and said, Youre a lovely girl, Emily. Its a shame we meet under these circumstances. He looked younger than Id imagined. Lydia, trying to smooth things, whispered to him, Dont embarrass her.
Thomas and Lydia peppered Emily with questions about her life. She told them everything: her mums bakery, her job at the community centre, her love of painting. She sobbed a little as Thomas gently patted her head, then declared, Now were a family. Lydia nodded, assuring her everything was fine.
How are you handling the business? Lydia asked sympathetically. Im not really managing it, Emily replied, the manager runs the daytoday. I have no idea whats what. Thomas frowned, Theyll try to take you for a ride if youre not careful. Emily, frightened, asked what to do. Now youve got us, Thomas said, we wont let anyone cheat you. She brightened at that.
The very next day Emily signed a power of attorney giving Thomas control of the bakery. She waited anxiously for Matts return, planning to tell him the good news: Shes not alone any more; she has a family that will look after her. She didnt mention any of this over the phone; I know she feared his disappointment.
Matt arrived a day later, full of enthusiasm. Your dad already fired the manager, Emily blurted. Hes cleaning up. She was stealing, can you imagine? Matt looked unsettled. Hes great! she said, ignoring his reaction. Ill introduce you to him.
But Thomas never showed up. His phone stayed dead, and Lydia stopped answering messages. When we went to his flat, the neighbour grunted, Hes probably on another trip, and Lydias off gallivanting somewhere. The door stayed shut.
Emily, shaking, whispered, Somethings happened to them. Where could they have gone? Hospital? Morgue? Police? She began to weep. I tried to calm her: Dont start screaming, well sort this out. Over the next three days I tried every number, every contact, but nothing. Then I told her, We have a meeting in an hour, we need to leave. She pressed for details, but I said, Youll find out soon enough.
We drove to the address Thomas had given. A stout man with a shaved head opened the door. You two? he said, barely looking up. He let us in.
The kitchen held an open bottle of whisky and a simple plate of biscuits. Did you tell her? the man asked me. I shook my head. No. Speak yourself, lad, Im not in a fit state. Emily sat, stunned, as the man explained that Lydia had been Thomass second wife, married about five years ago. Thomass real name was Alex Whitaker, but hed been using the nickname Alex in the papers. The woman whod opened the door before was actually his sister, not his wife.
He confessed theyd staged the whole encounter to test Emily, to see if shed be easy to swindle. You didnt bother to find out about your father before? he asked Matt. Emily shook her head, remorseful. That was the plan, Thomas said, to keep you off balance.
He went on, If you stay, the flat will be yours, but we might still sell it and buy a house for all of us. He hinted that their bakery had already been sold and the money vanished. Your dads a good man, though, the real Thomas said, hes honest and works hard. He just had a drink because his wife ran off.
Following his advice, I suggested Emily keep an eye on Matt, hinting that a new relationship might be on the horizon. I wrapped up the day feeling exhausted but relieved that the truth was finally out.
Looking back, I realise Ive been swept up in other peoples deceptions, letting loyalty cloud my judgment. The lesson Im taking from all this is simple: never assume you know the whole story, and always verify before you trust. Its a hard way to learn, but its one I wont forget.
Matt.
