Well, there you go, love, this is now your room. Make yourself at home.
Emily took a tentative step inside. The bed was covered with an absurdly fluffy duvet. A writing desk sat beneath a laptop, and a wardrobe with mirrored doors flanked a rectangular rug sporting a geometric pattern. Everything was sleek, pricey and nothing like her old cramped bedroom back in Manchester.
Her dad, Simon, lugged two massive suitcases full of Emilys stuff and set them by the wardrobe.
Youll sort it out yourself, right?
Of course she would. Who else was she supposed to ask?
Claire, the new stepmum, breezed in carrying a pot of a longleafed houseplant. She set it on the windowsill.
Thought itd look nice here, she said with a cheery grin, eyeing Emilys sullen stare.
Emily placed a hand on her fathers shoulder and guided him toward the door.
Off you go, she whispered, gently closing the door behind her.
Make yourself at home, Emily repeated in her head, a bitter echo. She felt a pang of emptiness, slumped onto the bed, turned her back to the wall, curled into a ball, hugged her knees and shut her eyes.
Mom, why? We were always together and now youre gone. Why didnt you go straight to the hospital? Why did you let it get this far?
For ten years Emily had been a proper mummys girl. Since her mothers death shed barely seen Simon. Evenings with mum, the TV, the smell of fresh scones and a cuppa were now only memories. Now she was forced to live with strangers. Simon didnt even call her by name; daughter felt like a label she couldnt even muster the warmth to say dad. She began to drift into thoughts about her father and his new wife.
Emily had always imagined that rich men, after divorcing, would remarry glamorous models with perfect lipsexactly the type she thought shed inherit. Claire, though younger than Simon, was ordinary: short, bob hair, a modest legal consultancy of her own. She was sharp, businesslike, not at all like mums warm kitchen smells. Claire often ordered takeaway rather than bake pies herself.
Must be her, Emily mused, that shes the one who set the décor up. Simon wouldnt have done it. She ran a hand over the soft, long pile of the duveta texture shed never known before.
At her new school Emily quickly made friends, largely because of Simons money and her striking looks. The girls decided it was easier to be mates than rivals. Emily, whod previously only spoken with a handful of classmates and her mum, now loved her new circle. They understood her, made her feel useful, and she even enjoyed the occasional covert admiration from the boys.
At first she genuinely felt sorry for herself, and the class pigeonholed her as a halforphan stuck with a cold stepmum and an indifferent dad. Emily liked the role and, deliberately, kept up the act.
She didnt hear one classmate mutter to a group of boys:
Whats she saying about her stepmum? My mums friend works for her and says shes a decent lady.
When Emily first came home late, Simon said:
Love, I know you want to be out with your mates, so I didnt call. But Id like you not to stay out so late. Deal?
Emily said nothing and retreated to her room.
The next night the gang planned a party; she turned her phone off. At home Simon waited, his face a storm cloud.
If this happens again, Ill have to act, he warned.
Emily shot him a quick angry glance and strutted into the bedroom where Claire was perched on the bed. The moment Emily entered, Claire sprang up.
Wanted to have a word, she said.
Emily stayed silent, her expression screaming What now?. Claire visibly flinched.
Simons worried about you, she tried again.
Im nearly sixteen! Emily snapped.
She began showing up on time, not to aggravate Simon. She had plans for her sixteenth birthdaya gathering with friends. Her older brothers flat was to be the venue, thanks to a friends older sibling. Shed been seeing a boy she liked and dreamed of a private moment with him.
Emily, Claire announced, Ive booked a table for tomorrow. Well celebrate your birthday. You can invite your friends if you like.
A restaurant? With you? I was going to party with my mates!
When were you planning to tell me?
I dont know, Emily muttered. Maybe tomorrow.
So on the day itself, then. Fine, if you want friends, you can have them over at our flat. Ill sort the food.
Emilys stomach dropped. Everything was already arranged. Maxs brothers flat would host the drinks, the booze already sourced. The whole thing sounded like a setup for a night she hadnt asked for. She left for school, determined to think of something.
Later, in the hallway, a bright light flickered. An enraged Simon stood before Emily.
What do you think youre doing?!
He stepped closer, catching the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke on her.
I asked you! He shouted, raising a hand as if to strike her cheek.
Simon!
Claire appeared behind him. Emily lifted her head, seeing Claires terrified eyes and smudged mascarafresh tears.
Claire gently pushed Simon aside, took Emilys shoulders and led her to another room.
Did anyone hurt you? Did something happen? she whispered.
Emily shook her head.
No, its fine.
Ill speak to your dad. How can I help now?
Bring me a drink.
Claire told Simon, who was fidgeting by the door, that Emily was okay. When Claire returned, Emily was already fast asleep, still in her nightdress.
She smelled of booze! Did you notice? Simon blurted as Claire tried to discuss Emily.
Of course. Think back to when you were sixteen.
And? Shes just a girl!
Right. Look at your peers. Emily isnt stupid, but her friends now mean more to her than we do. Give her space. Remember, her life flipped in an instant; maybe that makes it easier to cope.
Cope with what? She has everythingfood, clothes, a roof. Ill grant any whim!
Simon! Stop playing the fool! Shes lost her mother. All she needs now is love and attention, which shes seeking from her friends. Something happened today, perhaps a fight?
I dont know, Simon sighed. I never imagined itd be this hard.
And what about me? Claire laughed, hugging Simon and planting a kiss on his forehead. Dont worry. Well manage together.
The next morning Claire entered Emilys room. Emily was awake, eyes wide.
How do you feel? Head hurting?
Claire pulled back the curtains and handed Emily a glass of water.
Emily gulped it down.
Why did you look after me yesterday?
Well, I was sixteen once too. By the way, happy birthday.
Emily stayed silent.
You hate me?
Because of your dad?
Thats not true. We met a year after everything.
Exactly! And what if he came back?
Claire sighed.
Its never simple, Emily. People often cant reconnect after a split.
Why? Whats in the way? People like you? Mum was wonderful!
Your mum was brilliant! Claire tried to take Emilys hand, but she pulled away. Adult relationships are messy. Some can be fixed, some cant, and sometimes parting is kinder than endless fighting. No single person is to blame.
And me? What am I to blame for? He didnt care!
Thats not true. Your dad tried to make sure you never lacked anything. He kept up with your life.
He didnt want to see me!
He wanted to. He just thought youd be better off with mum.
Claire didnt mention that Emilys mother had asked her exhusband not to intrude after they remarried, fearing hed steal her sons affection. Shed feared losing her sole childs love. Simon had given up after the first argument.
He loves you a lot. He just sees you as an adult now.
Claire placed her hand on Emilys shoulder; this time Emily didnt pull away.
So if the boy I was dating crashes my birthday with another girl and says hes dumping me, hes not the only one at fault?
Hmm. Think about it. Did he say anything else?
That Im overthinking it.
See?
Suddenly Emily craved a hug, a reassurance that she could be a little girl again, that someone would sort out her mess. Claire sensed this and pulled the crying girl close.
EmilyEmily, I cant replace your mum, but Id like to be a friend. I fell in love at sixteen too; he was a year older, then I found out he was seeing someone else from a nearby school.
What a twat! What did you do?
We both broke up with him.
Where was my fault?
I was too focused on school.
They burst into laughter, the tension easing. Both felt theyd taken a big step toward understanding each other.
Listen, Claire said. Lets both go out today. You go to school, I go to work, and well spend a little of your dads cash.
Emily managed a tentative smile.
All right! I talked to him yesterday. He said we could pick any gift. Shall we go?
The two chatted excitedly about shopping, unaware of the sudden jolt that rocked their car. A screech of brakes, a sharp thud, then a lighter tap as if something had knocked the vehicle from the outside, and everything fell silent.
Dad! Dad, were in the hospital!
Half an hour later Emily spotted her fathers silhouette at the end of the ward corridor and waved.
Emily!
Simon rushed to her side.
Are you alright? Any cuts?
He held her shoulders, scanning her from head to toe, noticing bruises on her face and hands.
Hurt? Oh my God, Emily, I was terrified
Its nothing, Dad, Im fine.
Simon froze, his eyes wide, his voice trembling as he asked:
Wheres Claire?
In the next bay. The impact was from her side. Some idiot jumped out of nowhere. Shes alive, Dad!
Simon pulled Emily close. She felt his tremble and pressed her head against his shoulder.
Im ashamed of what happened yesterday.
He ruffled her hair gently.
Stop. Lets forget it, okay?
Emily nodded.
A doctor entered.
Are you his wife?
Yes, Simon replied, stepping back. Whats wrong with her?
Strong bruises and shock. The airbag did its job. Shell be fine. The most important thing is the child isnt hurt.
The child? Simon looked bewildered. Yes, the child isnt hurt.
The doctor gave a faint smile and left.
As if I cant see my own child isnt hurt, Simon muttered under his breath. He embraced Emily again.
Dad, didnt you get the part about the baby?
What?
Simon stared, clearly confused, while Emily rolled her eyes.
That Ill soon have a brother or sister!
The room echoed with a reluctant chuckle as the family tried to piece together the chaos, the irony of lifes twists, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would settle down.
