Victoria stopped by the shopping centre after work. The head accountant’s anniversary was coming up, and her department had entrusted her to pick out a gift. She’d spotted a few options and snapped pictures on her phone to show her colleagues tomorrow. Whatever they chose, she’d buy. As she stepped onto the descending escalator, she longed to get outside, away from the crowds and the noise.
“Vicky?!” A woman’s voice called out abruptly.
She turned her head left, scanning the faces of the people riding up, but they were all strangers.
“Vicky!” the voice came again.
This time, she glanced behind her and saw a girl with fiery red hair, attempting to run down the ascending escalator steps.
“Wait for me at the bottom—don’t leave!” the girl shouted.
Victoria stepped off and waited. The garish red hair vanished briefly at the top before reappearing, rushing downward as the girl dodged past irritated shoppers. The bold colour was so distracting that it took a moment to recognise the face beneath.
“Mandy!” Victoria exclaimed, realising it was her stepsister.
“Surprised?” Mandy grinned. “I’ve been wandering around hoping I’d bump into you. Knew it’d happen eventually. There’s a café on the ground floor—let’s sit.”
“How long have you been in town?”
“Two weeks already.” Mandy’s smile was genuine. “God, I’m so glad I found you.”
They chose a small chain café by the exit and settled at a corner table. Victoria studied her. The red hair was unnatural, almost violent, her lashes heavy with mascara, sticking up like pine needles. Thin lips were painted with matching red gloss, giving her a cartoonish, doll-like appearance.
Mandy was only four years younger—barely twenty—yet she dressed like a teenager. A pleated miniskirt, sheer tights with knee-high black socks, chunky white trainers. A cropped denim jacket hung open, revealing a tight pink vest. Heads turned as they passed, though Mandy didn’t seem to notice.
“You look amazing,” Mandy said.
Before Victoria could answer, a waitress slid menus onto the table. Mandy pounced on hers, ordering pizza, a slice of cake, and coffee. Victoria stuck to just the coffee.
“God, I’m starving,” Mandy sighed. “Lucky you—you can eat anything. I’m stuck on these bloody diets all the time.”
“Really?” Victoria arched a brow. She’d never seen Mandy anything but rail-thin.
“You haven’t met my mum. Weighed a tonne, at least. Dad couldn’t handle it—why d’you think he left? But you got the good genes.” She tapped the menu. “D’you reckon they do beer?”
“Ask, but I’m not having any. I’m driving.”
“You’ve got a car?” Mandy whistled. “Listen—you lot hiring at work? I’ve been here two weeks and still nothing.”
“How have you been getting by?”
“Robbing Dad blind,” she giggled. “He’d just drink it all anyway. After you ran off, he went off the rails. Got sacked, scraped by on odd jobs. Then he shacked up with some dinner lady who smuggled leftovers home. After that, he really lost it.”
Victoria listened, stunned. Not that she was surprised. She’d never liked Mandy’s father. Her own mother had brought him home, insisting Victoria was just jealous—until he moved in with his daughter in tow. Victoria had been in sixth form, prepping for uni.
She and Mandy had clashed instantly. The girl helped herself to Victoria’s clothes, returned them stained. Mum defended her—”You’ve got plenty, don’t be selfish. Mandy never had a mother.” Victoria knew she just wanted peace, but it still stung. Then came the diagnosis. Four months later, Mum was gone.
Her stepfather expected her to get a job after school. Instead, Victoria fled to Manchester. She’d been skimming from the grocery money for months, hiding cash in an old book. Enrolled at uni, lived in halls, scraped by on café shifts at Nando’s. After graduation, she landed a proper job, saved relentlessly, and bought a flat within a year. With Daniel’s help—they’d been together since she started working—she’d even got a second-hand Ford.
“What qualifications have you got?” Victoria asked, snapping back to the present.
Mandy snorted. “Seriously? Barely scraped my GCSEs. Been stacking shelves since. Dad lost the plot when you left—drank himself out of a job. Why d’you think I’m here? He shacked up with some lush, and now they’re both pissed all day. No future in that.”
Victoria stifled a smirk. Shelf-stacker to secretary—quite the leap.
“And what position exactly are you after?”
“I’d make a great PA. Your boss single?”
“Not even close, and he already has an assistant.”
“Shame. Not doing cleaning, though,” Mandy said, already devouring the pizza when it arrived.
“If you need money, does it matter whether you’re filing or mopping?” Victoria said evenly. “I’ll ask around.”
Liar. No way was she letting Mandy near her office.
“How about you?” Mandy wiped grease off her chin. “No ring—not married?”
“No, but I’ve got a boyfriend. Two years now. Wedding’s on the cards.”
Another lie. Yes, they’d been together two years, but Daniel’s mum was ill—he wouldn’t move out, wouldn’t propose. Didn’t want to burden her with a sick mother-in-law.
Mandy made a face. “Thought you were smarter. If he hasn’t proposed in the first year, he’s not going to. It’s now or never.”
“Since when are you an expert?”
Mandy’s eyes flicked to the delicate solitaire on Victoria’s finger.
“His? Bit plain.”
Victoria bristled. Mandy loved everything loud and flashy. She adored her ring—slim, understated, with a modest diamond. Paired with the stud earrings Daniel brought back from Amsterdam. At work, colleagues complimented them constantly. Wasn’t that proof enough? She wouldn’t dignify Mandy with an answer.
“It’s a diamond,” she said flatly.
“So he’s loaded?” Mandy froze mid-bite.
“Hardly. He just loves me.”
Something flickered behind Mandy’s eyes before she looked away. “What about you? Got a bloke?”
“Looking,” Mandy sighed. “Had one, but… I’m not settling. Want someone with a flat, a car—proper money.”
Ah. So that’s why she was here. Husband-hunting. Good luck in that get-up, Victoria thought. The coffee was finished, the conversation dead. She wanted to leave, but Mandy wouldn’t make it easy.
“My turn to pay,” Victoria said, signalling the waitress.
“You’ll ask about the job?” Mandy pressed.
“Yeah.”
They left together, Mandy trailing her through the shopping centre.
Her childhood with Mum had been quiet. Dad left when she was small. Then came Mandy’s father—a drunk in a cheap suit. Mum insisted he was decent. Victoria knew better.
When Mum got sick, she blamed them. If not for them, she’d still be alive. The doctors said cancer, advanced. But grief wasn’t rational.
Mandy’s dad drank even before Mum died. Somehow, Mandy never found the cash Victoria hid—her ticket out. The memories blurred as they reached the car park.
“We should head off,” Victoria said.
“Vicky… you’re not renting, are you?”
“No, I own my flat.”
“Woah. Listen, could I crash with you? Just till I find work.”
Victoria sighed. Here it was. “Where’ve you been staying?”
“Mate’s sofa.” Mandy’s gaze darted sideways. “Need out—he’s doing my head in.”
Victoria hesitated. Letting Mandy in meant no privacy with Daniel. But the girl’s puppy-dog eyes were hard to ignore. Not quite family, not quite stranger.
“Get in,” she relented.
Mandy beamed, darting around to the passenger side.
“It’s a one-bed. You’ll be on the pull-out sofa.”
“Perfect.”
For two weeks, Mandy slept till noon, scrolled her phone, then vanished at night, reeking of smoke and booze. Clubbing for prospects, Victoria guessed. Work never materialised.
“Any luck?” she finally asked.
“Was about to ask you the same,” Mandy shot back.
“Only cleaning going. Not your thing, apparently.”
“Bored of me already? Kicking me out?”
“No. But I like my space. You’ve got cash for clubs—get a flat.”
“Blokes cover me,” Mandy shrugged.
“Shocking.”
Daniel asked when she’d leave. They stole nights at his, but with his mum inVictoria never saw her stepsister again, and though the missing clothes and stolen holiday money still stung, the quiet of her ordinary life felt like a gift.
