Nothing had shifted.
I stepped into the flat, buoyant, a box of cake cradled in my arms a cake bought especially for Mum and Barry.
From somewhere deep within the walls music floated, under it muffled voices.
My stepfathers voice called my name, and I froze in the hallway.
How much longer must I put up with your Emma? Barry snapped, irritation thick in his tone. Shes a stone stuck in my throat.
I held my breath, pressed against the wall, my heart thudding so loudly I imagined the others could hear it.
Dont get your knickers in a twist. Let her pay for my anniversary, then she can go off. Until then, be as quiet as a mouse, as low as the grass.
The words snatched the breath from my lungs. My fingers clenched the cardboard box so hard it threatened to flatten into a pancake.
Ah, so thats how, a thought flickered. Exactly what they expected from me.
I slipped toward the exit, trying to stay unseen. The moment the door shut behind me I tumbled down the stairs like a clumsy doll.
Outside the sun shone with the same fierce glare, but the world had suddenly drained of colour. I sank slowly onto a bench in the garden opposite the house.
The cake box rested on my knees; I stared at it, emptyeyed, trying to grasp what had happened.
Five years of silence
Five long years I had not crossed the threshold of my parents house. I had not heard Mums voice, not seen her face.
And now, a ring and an invitation to a birthday.
Barry had slipped into our lives when I turned fifteen small, with a mischievous squint and a perpetual grin.
Emma! hed shout, winking at Mum. Our slender one, bonethin, I swear. The wind will carry her away!
Mum laughed at his jokes, looking at him as if he were reciting the greatest truths ever spoken.
Barry, youre a piece of work! shed clap. What a joker!
I would sit, eyes down on my plate, trying to disappear.
Mum, hes overstepping, I finally blurted one day.
Oh, stop being such a child, she waved it off. Its just jokes.
Each day Mum drifted further away, as if an invisible wall rose between us. I clung to memories of my father, who had always shielded me, who had believed in me.
Dad had been gone two years, but he had looked after my future a bank account into which a monthly sum was deposited for my education. My dream was to finish school, head to London, enroll at university, start a new life without Barry and his jokes that turned my world upside down.
I believed. I waited.
The graduation
After the prom I felt as if I were soaring on wings. School behind me, a fresh life ahead, all I had ever wished for.
I opened the flats door and froze. Ten strangers sat around the festive table.
The air smelled of roast and something cloyingly sweet. Glasses clinked, laughter boomed.
Barry, perched at the head of the table with Mum beside him, was the first to notice me.
Ah, our graduate has arrived! he bellowed. Come, beauty! Lets celebrate a double occasion your school finish and my new boat!
I shuffled to the table, bewildered. Someone made room.
Ladies and gents, Barry gestured grandly. Meet Emma, my stepdaughter. Ive poured my heart into her, raised her as my own!
His mates nodded approvingly while I stood frozen, fork in hand.
Images flashed: him forcing me to wash his car in the frost, mocking my grades, insisting Id end up selling at the market after school.
Emma, youre a bit of a headcase, Barry continued. Schools done. Time to work, eh, love?
I stayed silent, poking at the salad.
Come off it, Barry, a guest laughed. Let the girl study.
Whats she to study? Barrys eyes narrowed slyly. Works what matters now. Ive already struck a deal with Mr. Hargreaves shell be a shop assistant in his store. Standing behind a counter isnt exactly Newtons binomial.
The table erupted in laughter while my insides boiled.
Betrayal
When Mum slipped away to the kitchen, I followed.
Mum, I need to talk, I whispered.
She seemed a little tipsy, eyes glittering, movements exaggerated.
Whats wrong? she asked, setting a stack of plates down awkwardly.
Im applying to university in London, my voice trembled. I need the money from my account.
Mum froze, then turned slowly.
What money? she frowned.
The one Dad set aside for my schooling, I repeated.
Oh, that, she waved dismissively, as if it were a trifle. Theres no more.
The world shook beneath my feet.
How can there be none? I whispered. There was
Exactly, there isnt, she cut in. Barry needed to buy a boat. And look at the feast we threw!
I stared at her, not recognizing the mother who once read me bedtime stories.
You spent my money? I couldnt believe my ears.
Technically it was in my account, Mum shrugged. And Barry does so much for us. He deserves a boat and a holiday.
At that moment the very cause of the celebration burst into the kitchen.
Emma! he shouted. Ive sorted things with Mr. Hargreaves. From Monday youll be a cashier in his shop! He laughed loudly, proud of himself.
I turned and slipped out of the kitchen, heading instead to my room. My hands trembled as I pulled open drawers, rifled through boxes.
Where were Dads gifts? Gold earrings, a chain with a pendant, Grannys ring
I found them hidden at the bottom of an old shoe box, untouched.
Barry never made it. For now, London would have enough.
I sat on the bed, staring at Dads photograph on the nightstand.
Ill manage, Dad, I whispered. I promise.
Unexpected call
Five years flew by like a single day. London greeted me with rain, mist, and the warmth of new friends. University, a night shift in a café, a dorm room with roommate Lucy. Life settled, and I tried not to dwell on the past.
An early Tuesday morning, the phone rang. An unknown number.
I rarely answer such calls, but something made me press the green button.
Hello?
Emma, love! How wonderful to hear your voice!
I stayed silent, gathering my thoughts.
You there? she asked. Emma, can you hear me?
Yes, I replied shortly. I hear you.
How are you? Hows life? her voice was oddly tender. Ive missed you so much!
Five years I didnt think about it, and now you pop up, a thought darted through my mind.
Everythings fine, I said dryly. Studying, working.
Oh, brilliant! she exclaimed. Im gearing up for a birthday soon. Fifty will be here, can you imagine?
Id love for you to come, she said.
I almost laughed at the suddenness.
Seriously? After everything?
Oh, stop dwelling on the old, she replied, a hint of irritation creeping in. Everyone makes mistakes. Im sorry. I want us to be a family again!
I closed my eyes. Barrys smug grin appeared behind the lids.
Is Barry coming too? I asked.
Of course! she blurted. He asks about you all the time. Hes worried.
Alright, I said, surprising myself. Ill come.
Really? her voice brimmed with genuine surprise. Oh, Im thrilled! When should I expect you?
In a week, I think.
After hanging up, I stared at the window, wondering why Id agreed. What was I hoping to find? A part of me still wanted to see Mum. Maybe she had truly changed.
A week later I stood on the doorstep of my parents flat. Mum flung the door open and lunged into a hug.
My dear, look how youve grown! Youre beautiful! she babbled.
We sat in the kitchen, sipping tea, and Mum chatted about neighbours, gossip, the everyday.
Then, almost offhand, she added:
Emma, I just realised my birthday is coming, and Ive got no money. She lowered her eyes, apologetic.
I want a proper celebration, not like those poor folks, she said. But Barry you know hes not exactly generous.
I took her hand, looked into her eyes.
Dont worry, Mum. Ill handle it.
We sat on a bench, mulling things over, and I straightened my back, resolve firm.
Theyll get what they deserve, I whispered to myself.
Back inside, I slammed the door shut, loud enough to make them hear.
Within a heartbeat, Mum emerged, smile strained.
Emma! I thought youd vanished! she sang. Come in, lets have tea.
I returned her smile, handing her the cake box.
Here, a treat for you, I said, my voice unusually bright. And Mum, I have a brilliant idea!
Whats that? her eyes widened with curiosity.
Ive booked a swanky restaurant out of town for your birthday think fountains, live music! I declared. I even arranged a coach to ferry all the guests!
Mum clapped her hands like a giddy child.
Oh, Emma, youre my golden girl! she cried, pulling me into a hug. And Barry will be over the moon!
Yes, I think hell love it.
We lingered in the kitchen as Mum listed the invitees. I listened halfheartedly, then, casually, added:
By the way, my friends granny, Svetla, has nowhere to live. Im thinking of selling my halfshare of the flat to her.
Mums smile vanished, eyes narrowing.
Whats that about? she asked coldly.
Its nothing, dont worry! You dont want to buy it yourself? I waved it off. Grandmas quiet, never leaves the room. It wont bother anyone. Ill give you half the proceeds for living expenses.
Mums face shifted instantly.
How much are we talking about?
I named a sum that made Mums eyebrows shoot up.
That much?! she gasped. Well then, let her move in.
I fished a sheet of paper from my bag and began scribbling.
Sign the notice of sale, I said, nonchalantly.
Mum snatched the pen, signed without reading.
Great, I smiled. Now lets think about your dress for the birthday.
The birthday day was bright and warm. A large tour bus idled outside our house, guests in festive attire lined up to board.
Barry strutted among them, gesturing wildly, shouting something incomprehensible. Spotting me, his grin widened.
Oh, our benefactor! he exclaimed. Emma always knows how to thank us for a happy childhood!
Someone laughed, and I returned a polite smile.
Everything ready? I asked Mum.
Yes, dear, she replied. Arent you joining us?
Ill arrive by taxi a little later, I said. Still have a few things to sort out.
Oh, such a caring one you are!
The guests piled into the bus. I had arranged with the driver: half the fare now, the rest on return. When the bus vanished around the corner, I pulled out my phone.
Hello, Victor? This is Emma. Could we view the flat today? As soon as possible, please.
I imagined the crowd, led by Mum and Barry, arriving at the countryside restaurant that none of them expected to find. I pictured them calling me, only to find my line dead, having to chip in for the return trip.
Half an hour later a broadshouldered man in a sports jacket pulled up my buyer, Victor Sterling, a weightlifting enthusiast. Friendly, yet his gaze said hed see everything.
Everything as agreed, he said. Im moving in today.
Excellent, I replied, smiling. I think youll get along with the neighbours quickly.
After he left I walked through the flat that had raised me, memories both sweet and bitter swirling. Dads photograph still sat on the shelf in my room; I slipped it into my bag.
Leaving, I pictured Barrys face when he learns of his new neighbour, and Mums realization that the restaurant would be empty and the money from my share would never reach her.
They say revenge is a dish best served cold.
Yet as I shut the door of the flat I would never return to, a strange warmth settled in my chest.
