Im sorry, say that again? Julia shook her head, as if shed misheard something absurd. I dont think I caught that
Anthony was loitering by the lounge window, nervously tugging at the hem of his ancient Arsenal shirt, carefully avoiding her gaze. He coughed the sort of cough people use to delay the inevitable and finally muttered,
In a week, Emilys moving in. Remember I warned you this could happen
Julia shot him a look, her eyebrows practically shooting up into her fringe as she squinted, as though the words might become more sensible up close. Alas, shed heard perfectly well, and that somehow made it worse.
I remember. So whats prompted this visit? Julia laced her fingers together tightly. Has something happened?
Its a rough patch with Emily just now, Anthony finally faced his wife, although his eyes seemed to be wandering somewhere near her ear. Teenage years, you understand. Catherine cant cope anymore. I dont think itll be forever, just for a while, Emily will be here.
Julia waited. The silence was as heavy as overbaked Yorkshire pudding, and Anthony, sensing the tension, began to babble:
She rang yesterday, you know, another complaint. Said Emily never listens, always backchats, disappears for hours. So I said, look, let her live with me if you cant cope, Ill handle the parenting.
And Catherine agreed? Julia asked, not really needing the answer.
With bells on, Anthony shrugged. Honestly, she started packing before Id even hung up.
Julia closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying not to boil over. When she finally looked at Anthony again, her voice was eerily calm:
And at what point did you think to ask me for my thoughts before making this life-altering announcement?
Anthony flinched.
Jules, I did warn you
No, you didnt warn me. You vaguely mentioned that maybe, someday, possibly, something *might* happen! That is not the same thing, is it? And anyway, you didnt think for one second that my opinion might matter? Youve decided that a teenager one Ive met, what, five times in three years is going to move into our flat, and you didnt even ask me how I felt about it?
Anthony darted across the carpet and sat beside her, scooping her hands into his.
Julia, I just knew I was sure youd understand, he peered into her eyes. I knew you wouldnt let me down. Shes my daughter, you see? I have to look after her. I just cant not.
Julia stared at him, feeling her resolve visibly crumble. Anthony squeezed her hands tighter, and she exhaled, defeated.
Their three-bedroom flat could certainly accommodate one surly adolescent. But Julia had a lurking suspicion that this unannounced addition would be less heartwarming family drama, more horror show.
Emily arrived with the October drizzle. Julia tried really tried to make the girl feel welcome. She quizzed Anthony about Emilys favourite meals and cooked them on rotation: cottage pie, pancakes with blueberries, an apple crumble that took three calls to Anthonys mum to get right. She refrained from nagging about chores, avoided emotional heart-to-hearts, and gave Emily space to adjust.
Yet, week by week, nothing improved. Emily still swanned around as if the world was her local high street. Dirty plates multiplied on every surface, soggy towels collected on the bathroom floor, and half-empty mugs seemed to breed wherever shed been. Julia gritted her teeth and cleared up in silence, reminding herself: adolescence, tricky times, patience is a virtue.
One evening, running late at work, Julia crept in just past eight, and was met by the unmistakable sound of Anthonys voice at full-kit manager volume:
You skived off again! Three lessons, Emily! Three! Your tutor phoned me!
Julia froze in the hall, wishing for invisibility.
And I saw your grades! Whats this? Ds and Es everywhere! We do everything for you! All you have to do is study! Is that so difficult?
Silence. Emily offered nothing but a withering stare.
Nothing to say? Anthony snapped.
Nothing.
To your room. Now! I cant even look at you!
Julia watched Emily storm past her not a flicker of acknowledgment then slam her bedroom door with such force the hallway shook.
Anthony barrelled out of the lounge, red-faced and wild-haired, still panting in indignation. There was not a trace of his usual puppy-eyed affection.
You could help out with her, you know, he snapped. Or do you just not care?
Julia blinked, stunned, but Anthony had already stormed off to the bedroom.
She stood in the hall, coat still on, bag in hand, feeling like an extra in someone elses soap opera. Shed put in the effort cooking, cleaning, keeping calm about the carnage and the attitude and now her husband was having a go because what? She wasnt strict enough with his daughter?
Slowly, she hung up her coat, shelved her shoes, and set her bag down. The motions felt mechanical, as if by properly following these steps she might return to the reality shed somehow lost.
Behind the bedroom door there was only silence. Emilys room, too, was quiet though Julia would have bet the family biscuit tin that the girl was scrolling on her phone, as if nothing had happened.
Julia went to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and stared through the window at the twinkling streetlamps. Shed said yes to Emily moving in yes because she loved Anthony, and understood it meant the world to him. But standing alone in that shadowy kitchen, Julia wondered, for the first time, what exactly shed signed up for, and just how badly things might get.
That night, they barely spoke, retiring to opposite ends of their king-sized bed, backs to each other. In the morning, Julia was up first, made a big fry-up and laid out the plates, doing her best dead-on impression of Nothing To See Here.
Emily glowered into her teacup. Anthony scrolled through his phone pointedly, then finally fixed his wife with a steely look.
Youre going to see the tutor today. She called apparently Emily skived again and her grades are even worse.
Julia put down her mug.
In what capacity am I meant to show up? she asked even-keeled. Im not her mum. Shes your daughter, Anthony, so you should go.
Anthonys ears went crimson, and Julia saw his hands clench. Emily slipped away to her room with the silence of a seasoned jeans ninja.
Im sick to death of those meetings! Anthony shouted. Every time lectures, complaints Its your turn now!
And why is it suddenly my turn? Julia demanded, incredulous. Emily isnt my child. I dont see why I should cop the lecture about her attitude or report cards.
Anthony smacked the table. A half-eaten Jaffa cake made a break for the floor.
You need to start behaving like family! he exploded. Emily lives here now! You should be looking after her. Youre supposed to be her mum!
Julia stood up and edged away to the far end of the kitchen.
I never agreed to this, she replied, voice steady. Teenagers are tough. Emily is your daughter. Why am I suddenly expected to parent her? Thats your job and Catherines.
I cant do it alone! Anthony bellowed, leaping to his feet. Ive got work!
I work too, Julia pointed out, ice-cold.
Its a womans job to look after children! Anthony shot back, undeterred.
Her own, Julia said, darkly. Her own children. Not other peoples.
Anthony blinked, momentarily thrown, then came back swinging:
You just dont like her. Dont pretend otherwise.
And what exactly have you done for her? Julia narrowed her eyes. You just shout at her! You took her away from her mum, and now you expect me to pick up the pieces?
How can you say that? Anthony gasped, appalled.
Julia didnt bother to answer. She grabbed her handbag and walked out, not looking back.
Half an hour later, Julia sat at her mums kitchen table, sniffling into a mug of tea while mascara streaked kindly down her cheeks. Sarah poured another cuppa, nudged a tin of shortbread in her direction, and plonked herself down opposite.
Get a divorce, her mum said bluntly. Before its too late.
But Mum, weve been together three years
So what? Sarah shook her head. Youre running yourself ragged. Hes dumped his child onto you and now youre the villain. Do you really think itll change?
Julia sat in silence, staring into her tea, knowing her mother was right. If she stayed, shed lose herself completely submerged in someone elses needs, someone elses blame, forever feeling guilty.
Two months later, Julia stepped out of the town hall and into the blinding winter sunshine. They were officially divorced, the flat to be sold and the proceeds split. All the rows, the finger-pointing, the endless trials were finally done.
Anthony remained furious to the end, loudly telling anyone whod listen that Julia abandoned him and his daughter. He never seemed to grasp that hed sabotaged it all long before she finally packed her bags.
Julia breathed in crisp London air, tucked her scarf up to her chin, and marched towards the Tube. A brand new life untethered, unburdened, blessedly expectation-free was finally waiting for her.
