“Ah, Mr. Thompson,” said the neighbour as she shuffled past the garden gate, “are you on your own now? No one’s visiting?”
“Not at all,” I replied, wiping the soot from my hands, “they’ve all got their own lives.”
“The children are so detached, Mr. Thompson,” sighed another lady from the opposite lane, “they never think of old folks. Yet you, a kind-hearted soul, have always helped everyone.”
—
On Amelia’s bedroom shelf stood a brandnew doll. It was a vivid pink, dressed in a glittering, puffedup dress that smelled of perfume Amelia had already pilfered her mother’s fragrance for it.
Her maternal grandmother, Margaret Clarke, had arrived for the weekend, and she hadn’t come emptyhanded.
“Little Amy, my darling!” Margaret boomed as she barreled into the narrow hallway of their flat, stumbling over her sons boots and the toolbox he never bothered to store away. “Look what I’ve brought you!”
From behind her emerged the doll a towering figure, taller than Amelias knee. Its eyes shone bright blue, fringed with plush lashes; its hair was a cascade of golden curls, set neatly in a bow. The dress was a masterpiece: layered, sparkling, with a delicate pearl string around the neck.
” Mum,” whispered Irene, Amelias mother, “where on earth did you find such a beauty? Even Id love to play with it.”
“Dont you dare, dear,” Margaret cooed, running her fingers over the shimmering fabric. “I only ever saw ones like that in pictures when I was a girl. Im too old to play, but I could get one for you. It cost me about half my pension, but for my little granddaughter it was worth every penny! Amelia, introduce her to your other toys.”
“Thank you, Gran!” Amelia breathed, eyes never leaving the present. She lifted a fingertip to the hem of the dress; the doll was flawless.
“What should I call her?” she asked.
“Call her whatever you like,” Margaret replied, “I must be off, I have a secret meeting with your mother.”
Even Ben, the younger brother, received a set of tiny cars, but none could compete with that doll.
The next two days glowed with the dolls magnificence. Amelia never left its side. At first she simply admired it, then she brushed its hair, slipped tiny jewellery onto its neck, and even set up a makeshift cradlea repurposed shoe box painted pinkwhere she fed it from a miniature plastic bowl that had long been forgotten in the cupboard. She took it into the kitchen, insisting it “help” her mother cook.
Ben, after breaking his favourite car, reached for the doll. Under Amelias watchful eye, she reluctantly allowed him a glimpse.
“Amelia, why does she have such long legs?” he asked, studying the delicate feet in tiny shoes.
“So she can dance,” she said seriously. “Ballroom dancing. And she can sing, Grandma told me.”
“Sing?” Ben laughed, doubtful. “Did you hear it?”
“Not yet,” Amelia admitted, “but Im sure shell belt out a tune soon. I just need to find the right button.”
Later that weekend they all travelled to see Margaret.
On Sunday evening, as the train pulled away from the station, Margaret hugged Amelia tight.
“Take care, love,” she whispered, “dont miss me. That doll of yours is a real treasurelook after her!”
“I will, Gran,” Amelia promised.
She left the doll at home, fearing it might get dirty or lost on the journey. As soon as they stepped through the front door, Amelia dashed to the dolls spot.
“Are you going to sleep?” her mother asked.
“Ill tuck her in first and then come back.”
But the room was empty. No doll to tuck in. Amelia wondered if Ben had played a joke, but Ben hadnt even had time to wash his hands, let alone enter the room.
“Where are you?” she called, peering under the bed and behind the curtains. “Milly? Where have you hidden?”
Ben, who had followed her, froze, confused.
“Did you see her?” Amelia asked.
“You put her on the shelf”
She searched the flat more thoroughly, thinking the doll might be playing hideandseek, but it was far too large to disappear unnoticed.
“Mum!” she shouted, bursting out of the bedroom, “Wheres the doll?”
Her mother had just arrived from the market.
“The doll? What doll?” she replied, assuming Amelia meant a recent purchase.
“My doll! The one Gran gave me! Its vanished!”
Irene stared at her daughter, baffled.
“It vanished? How could it vanish? It was right here.”
Even Irene joined the hunt, but a doll cant simply walk away.
“Could it have fallen behind the wardrobe?” Amelia suggested.
“If you left it on the shelf, no.”
Just then the front door slammed open.
Fred Thompson, Amelia and Bens father, stepped in. Hed taken the day off from his job at the bank, but he still earned extra cash fixing neighbours cars for a few quid each. A fresh bandage wrapped around his thumb from a recent mishap.
“Evening, lot!” he said, shedding his muddy coat. “How was the weekend? Hows my dear motherinlaw? Everything alright? You look a bit puzzled.”
“Fred!” Irene intercepted him at the threshold, “The dolls gone. The one my mother brought!”
Freds expression tightened.
“Missing? Thats odd”
“You were home when we left for Grans, werent you?” Irene pressed, suspicion creeping in. “Do you have any idea where it could be?”
Fred scratched the back of his head.
“Honestly, I havent the foggiest”
“Something tells me you do. Fred, wheres that doll? If youve taken it, youll have to replace it.”
He hesitated, knowing they couldnt afford another.
“Well you see, I I gave it away.”
“Gave it away?” Irene snapped, eyes narrowing. “To whom?”
“It went to Victoria,” Fred blurted, a hint of relief in his voice. “Our niece. It was her birthday, we brought her some albums and markers and when Victoria saw the doll she broke down, said shed always dreamed of one like that. I couldnt say no. Shes just a little girl”
“Shes the same age as our daughter,” Irene muttered through clenched teeth.
No private conversation could be had. Amelia stood nearby, tears streaming, listening to her father.
“But its mine!” she whispered. “Gran gave it to me!”
“Love, dear,” Fred tried to soothe, “dont cry. Its just a doll. Victoria needs it more; she doesnt have fancy toys like you.”
“Its mine! I loved it!”
Irene glared at her husband. Again hed put everyone else first.
“Fred, do you realise what youve done? That was a gift from my mother, my daughters! How can you snatch a childs plaything?”
“Its not a big deal,” Fred sighed. “Amelia has a whole box of dolls. Shell forget about this one tomorrow. We need to help family. Svetlana cant afford many toys, but Amelia has plenty. Well buy something else later, something cheaper.”
Amelia wailed, “I dont want another! I want mine!”
“Stop whining,” Fred scoffed. “Its just a toy, not the end of the world.”
This wasnt an isolated incident. Time and again Irene tried to save for something worthwhile for the family, while Freds generosity kept spilling over. Their plans to buy a larger flat fell through The twobedroom flat was getting cramped for Amelia and Ben. Irene had already started scouting properties, even attending viewings. They had a decent savings pot, and the proceeds from selling their current flat would cover a new one without a mortgage.
“Fred,” Irene began one evening, “Ive found a lovely terraced house not far from the school, with a garden. If we push a little, we could secure it. The agents say the sellers are willing to wait a bit for a firm offer.”
Fred, fiddling with the aging refrigerators odd mechanism, looked up.
“A bigger house? Sounds good, Irene. Except”
“Except what?” Irene asked, uneasy.
“Ive already earmarked the money. Svetlana called; her nephews getting married and they need a place. I thought we could help them out”
“You cant, Fred!” Irene gasped. “You cant! Say you didnt!”
“I gave it all to them,” Fred replied. “Theyre family. We have our twobedroom flat; its enough. The kids have their own room, we have ours.”
“Why should we settle for less when we have the cash?” Irene protested. “Call Svetlana and demand it back!”
“No, thats not how we do things. Theyve trusted us”
And so Amelia and Ben stayed in their cramped bedroom, sharing a bed that barely fit them both.
There were lean times, too, when the pantry held only the cheapest pasta and a handful of wilted veg. Fred, meanwhile, was ferrying yet another installment to his parents, who had taken a loan for Svetlana.
“Fred,” Irene complained, “were barely scraping by each month! The kids”
“Irish, my parents pension is small, and the loan must be repaid. They cant wait for collectors. Theyre trying for Svetlana, and her grandchild just arrived. Its a lot.”
“What about our children?” Irene asked.
“Well manage,” Fred replied breezily. “They dont need the most expensive things.”
Those not the most expensive things sometimes meant the kids would go without Christmas presents unless Irene quietly set aside money in secret. Fred would often sulk that she hadnt told him about the savings.
The final blow came when Amelia finished school. Their finances finally steadied a little. Fred stopped offering discount repairs to neighbours and began charging regular rates. Irene started arranging Amelias university applications. Amelia aimed for a medical degree, but the entry requirements were skyhigh, so they considered a paid place.
That same year, VictoriaFreds niece whod once received Amelias dollwas applying to university as well, and the familys old financial woes resurfaced.
“Irene,” Fred said, “we should help Victoria. Shes applying now.”
“What?” Irene replied, a familiar dread rising.
“Im thinking of paying her tuition. Svetlanas in a bind, you know.”
“Youve gone mad, Fred!” Irene snapped, almost throwing a stool. “Weve been saving for Amelia! For our daughter!”
“If Amelia doesnt get in, maybe she doesnt need it that much?” Fred retorted.
“And Victoria does?”
“We cant be selfish. Family first. Victoria needs it more than Amelia. Shes a bright girl; Amelia will manage without money.”
Irene believed Amelia was tucked away with headphones, oblivious to her fathers latest scheme. But Amelia, having heard the conversation, stood in the hallway, her eyes blazing.
“Dad,” she said, “if you do that, Ill never forgive you.”
Fred stared at his daughter, surprised by her fierce tone.
“Amelia, how can you be so cold?” he began, his usual rehearsed speech. “Theyre your family. Youll get a scholarship, I know, but Victoriashes also family”
“And I?” Amelia asked, voice shaking. “Am I not family to you?”
“Thats a different matter,” he replied.
“Exactly, its about priorities, Dad,” Amelia shot back. “You choose them over us. Youve never chosen us!”
Without hesitation, Fred made his choice. He backed Victoria.
“Everythings fine for you then” he muttered.
The story ends there.
Amelia, against all odds, secured a place at university. She couldnt afford the fees herself, but a scholarship covered most of it, and her mother supported her financially throughout. Ben, stepping away from the familys turbulence, found his own path.
Their father faded from their lives. He was no longer invited over.
When Amelia finally graduated, Irene handed Fred a small bag of his belongings.
“For a few days you can take this, then return the rest and pay for the delivery.”
“Fine,” Fred grumbled, “its my money after all.”
“And this is my flat,” Irene retorted.
Now an old man, Fred lives on his sisters cottage in the countryside, not for free, of course. The children barely speak to him; they visit only briefly out of duty, and hardly ever any more.
One dusty lane, Fred walked home. Two neighbours, baskets of mushrooms in hand, called out to him.
“Oh, Mr. Thompson,” one said, “are you living alone now? No one visits?”
“Not really,” Fred answered, “they all have their own lives.”
“What a cold set of children you have, Mr. Thompson,” the other sighed, “they never think of an old man. Yet you were always the kind soul helping everyone.”
He gave a rueful smile, never quite understanding how his endless generosity had left him utterly alone. Somewhere far away, his children lead their own lives, perhaps one day forgiving him, perhaps never.
