**Diary Entry**
*4th May, 2024*
We werent expecting you, my daughter said as she opened the door on my birthday.
Why do you always interfere? Emilys voice was sharp with irritation. Im thirty-seven, Mum! A grown woman!
Im not interfering, Margaret Wilson replied helplessly, spreading her hands. I only asked why you and James split up. Im your motherof course I worry.
Exactly, my *mother*, not a detective. Emily turned to the window. I have my own life. And my own reasons for my choices.
Margaret sighed, carefully folding the half-finished scarf into her bag. Another strained conversation. It was as if a wall stood between them, growing taller each year.
Alright, I wont ask again, she said gently. It just seemed like you two got on so well
Mum! Emily spun around. Can we drop it? Lets not ruin our first proper dinner together in months.
Margaret nodded and fell silent. She visited less and less these daysEmily was always busy with work, friends, the gym, evening classes. There was hardly ever time for her mother.
Leaving her daughters flat that evening, Margaret felt lonelier than ever. Her sixtieth birthday was in a week, and there was no one to celebrate with. Her husband had passed three years ago, old friends had scattered, and Emily was wrapped up in her own world. Maybe it wasnt worth marking the occasion at all?
But at home, sorting through old photos, she found one of little Emily blowing out candles on a cake, cheeks flushed with excitement. Back then, working as an accountant, Margaret had barely scraped by, yet she always made sure birthdays were specialcake, presents, friends.
*My birthdays in a week*, she thought, *and even my daughters forgotten. Should I remind her?*
She reached for the phone but stopped. No. She wouldnt beg for attention. If Emily had forgotten, so be it. What did numbers matterfifty-nine, sixty? Just another day.
Yet the thought nagged. Days later, she finally called.
Hi, Mum, Emily answered distractedly, as if multitasking. Everything alright?
Yes, nothings wrong, Margaret hesitated. I just wanted to saymy birthdays on Saturday. The big six-oh.
Oh! Really? Emily sounded surprised. Completely slipped my mind. Works been mad
Its fine, Margaret said quickly. Just thought Id mention it.
Sorry, Mum. Emilys voice softened. Ill try to drop byaround five?
Thatd be lovely, Margaret brightened. Ill bake your favourite cherry pie.
Perfect. Got to dashtalk later.
Hanging up, Margaret felt a rush of energy. She hadnt been entirely forgotten. Perhaps things werent as broken as they seemed.
Saturday was unseasonably warm for April. Margaret rose earlycleaning, baking, even popping to the hairdressers. She bought wine, Emilys favourite cheese, fruit. She wanted the evening to feel special, maybe even bridge the distance between them.
But by five, Emily hadnt arrived. Or by six. Calls went to voicemail.
*Stuck at work? Traffic?* Margaret checked the clock, uneasy. By seven, worry gnawed at her. What if something had happened?
Unable to wait, she took a taxi to Emilys. Maybe shed mixed up the dayswith her hectic schedule, it wouldnt be the first time.
Outside Emilys building, Margaret spotted familiar cars. One looked like Emilys. So she *was* home. Just forgotten? Or changed her mind without telling her?
Heart heavy, she climbed to the fifth floor and rang the bell.
Emily answereddressed up, hair done, makeup flawless. Laughter and voices drifted from inside.
Mum? She blinked. We werent expecting you.
Margaret stood frozen, clutching flowers shed bought herselfsomething to brighten a lonely evening.
II got worried. You didnt come, didnt answer
Behind Emily, a man appearedtall, bearded, in a crisp shirt.
Em, whos? He spotted Margaret. Oh! Hello!
This is my mum, Emily said. Mum, this is Andrew. Were seeing each other.
Lovely to meet you, Margaret managed, shaking his hand.
Andrew smiled. Heard so much about you!
A womans voice called from inside: Em, hurry up! The pastas getting cold!
Coming! Emily shot Margaret an apologetic look. Weve got people over. I *completely* forgot about our planIm so sorry.
Margarets throat tightened. On her birthday, her daughter was hosting a party.
Its fine, she forced a smile. Ill go. Dont let me interrupt.
Wait, Emily frowned. Since youre herecome in. Meet everyone.
Inside, the flat buzzed with chatter. A group huddled around the kitchen tabletwo women, another manamidst papers and craft supplies.
Guys, this is my mum, Emily said. MumSophie, Claire, Mark.
Margaret nodded awkwardly, out of place among the lively group.
Hungry? Emily asked. Weve got seafood pasta. Andrews our resident chef.
No, I ate, Margaret stepped back. I should go.
Stay! Andrew insisted. We were about to have dessert.
A chocolate cake sat on the tablenot a sixty-candle centrepiece. Not for her.
Thank you, but really She turned to Emily. A quick word?
In the hallway, Margaret pulled an envelope from her bag.
For your new coat. You mentioned needing one.
Mum, stop, Emily frowned. I earn enough.
Just a gift. Margaret pressed it into her hand.
Emily pocketed it reluctantly. Thanks. But you shouldnt have.
Margaret smiled tightly. Enjoy your evening.
Wait Emily hesitated. Why *did* you come?
Margaret froze. Had she truly forgotten? Or was this an act?
Its my birthday, love, she said softly. Sixty today. You promised to come at five.
Emilys face flashed shock, then horror.
Oh my God. MumIm *so* sorry! With planning Sophies surprise, it just
Margaret shrugged. Just a birthday.
No! Its *not*! Emily grabbed her hands. Im such an idiot!
She dashed to the kitchen. Voices rosesurprise, gasps. Moments later, the group appeared.
Margaret, Andrew announced, were throwing you an impromptu party!
Before she could protest, they ushered her inchampagne poured, cake adorned with repurposed candles.
To Margaret, Andrew toasted. May your year be as wonderful as you are!
Emily produced a pearl-inlaid jewellery box. Your gift! I was saving it, but its meant for you.
Touched, Margaret hugged her.
The night turned warm, laughter-filled. They flipped through old photo albumsEmily as a child at Brighton beach, convinced the sea would vanish overnight.
You were just imaginative, Margaret teased.
Andrew drove her home late. Emily stayed, lingering over cherry pie and tea.
Mum Im sorry. I *hate* that I forgot.
Youre busy
No excuse. Emilys eyes glistened. Youre my *mum*. I dont want you thinking I dont care.
Margaret cupped her cheek. I know you do.
They talked till dawnabout Emilys breakup, meeting Andrew in Waterstones, her dreams of starting a design studio.
Three days later, Emily returnedwith cake, flowers, and a holiday voucher.
Remember our trips to Cornwall? she said. Were going again. My treat this time.
You dont have to
I *want* to. Emily squeezed her hand. Youve done so much for me. Now its my turn.
Sipping tea, Margaret realisedsometimes you must arrive uninvited to remind them youre there. And even if youre not expected you might still be wanted.
