Hello, Emily? the voice of my dad crackles through the phone, frantic and pleading. Come over, please, somethings happened. I snort and ask what on earth is going on.
The neighbours downstairs have started a drunken ruckus. One of thems shouting that hell kill her, shes shouting that I should step in, and now there are bangs and shouts in the background. Theyre trying to break down the door, Emily! Theyll kill me, I swear
When they actually kill you, give me a ring. Do you need a lesson? Put a chair under the door, maybe they wont fling it open.
Youre
What you raised, you little brat. But if I dont suit you, you can go off to your beloved son and let him foot the bill and cater to your whims I sing sarcastically.
We hang up before I find anything else to say. I could have kept going; Im sure of it.
Emily grew up in a household that, by the usual standards, seemed respectable and financially stable. It wasnt a perfect pictureher mother died when Emily was a toddler, leaving her father to shoulder both parental roles.
The family appears ordinary, yet it hides a few skeletons in the closetwell, more like a pair of skeletons in the attic. One is the matriarch, Emilys grandmother, Martha, and the other is her fathers mother, also named Martha after her own mother.
Martha Nikolson, after whom I was named, is a peculiar woman. From Emilys point of view shes an old selfobsessed well, proper girls wouldnt say that, so peculiar will do.
Her peculiarity lies in the fact that, despite reaching pension age and without any official diagnosis, she behaves as if she were in the final stages of dementia. She never gets out of bed, does her business insitu, and, on unlucky days, spreads it on the nearest wall. She gets livid when relatives tile that wall to make cleaning easier, then lay a sheet of plastic under the covers for her.
When it comes to food, Martha loves only the finest: meat, fish, and, of course, sweets. Not the stale biscuits and dried herbs that ordinary pensioners in my childhood would nibble with tea, but real Belgian chocolate, which costs a pretty penny.
My dad has the money. He isnt rolling in millions, but as a decent turner he never goes without a paycheck, even in the bleakest months. All that cash, however, vanishes into the hands of dear old Mum, satisfying her every whim.
We live as a fourroom council flat in Manchester. The first room belongs to Martha, the second to my dad and me, the third is rented to a couple of Polish migrant workers, and the fourth houses a typical British family from the suburbs.
Our own neighbours are the kind who love a pint and a row. After a few drinks they either march over to settle scores or just chat loudly in the hallway. Nobody ever bothers Marthas room again after one night when they accidentally ignited a small fire with a stray ashtray; we swore never to cross that threshold.
Emily, however, gets the short end of the stick. The neighbours have no children, thank heavens, but after a night of boozing the wives sometimes crave a little squeeze of a strangers child. When Emily grows older and starts to reject Aunt Nancys meddling, they can give her a slap or a pinch.
Dad, to whom Emily complains, merely waves her off. Dont wander into the hallway, youll get into trouble. Prop the door with a chair and go to sleep or watch TV until I get home from work.
One night, after Ive finished washing the dishes in the old flowerpot sink, the loving dad plant topples onto my head. Its not the worst thingMarthas room is never a problem, the neighbours dont drink every night, and theres always food on the table.
Im annoyed that Dad buys Martha the tastiest treats while I, his daughter, scrape by on cheap spaghetti and the cheapest bangers. Yet, thats how most people around us live, so I never truly objectat least not as a child.
When I turn thirteen, Dad decides to start a new chapter in his personal life. He brings a woman named Laura into the flat, and she immediately begins reorganising things. She insists that she and Dad should have the master bedroom to themselves. After all, how can you have a love life with a child sleeping next door?
Its improper for a grown man and a teenage girl to share a room. Laura pushes me into the spare room, the one Martha occupies. Martha greets the newcomer cheerfully, but she never expected a teenager hardened by schoolyard fights to respond to a sudden splash of perfumefilled liquid with a cold stare and a low, threatening whisper:
Dont you dareold She pauses. Ill smother you with a pillow in your sleep, and my age will protect me.
Martha, not suffering from senility, is terrified by the threat and doesnt even complain to Dad.
Dad continues to bring treats for Martha, and Laura never objects. Its probably because Dads earnings have risen, and Laura can afford her own clothes, cosmetics, and café outings with friends.
What, youre in Year Ten? Finish school, then look after Mum and earn your keep.
Emilys pleas to study, get a proper qualification, and be independent are met with a sarcastic demand to leave the house if youre unhappy. She does.
Just after turning sixteen, Emily forges Dads signature on college applications. She studies hard, hoping no one will ever call the parents in for a meeting and expose the tiny lie. She tells everyone her father works long hours to support a sick grandmother. She cleans floors at the nearby shopping centre at night to top up her stipend.
From her first paycheck, she finally tastes the Belgian chocolate shes never had before.
After college she jumps into a career. By chance she picks accounting and analytics, and it turns out to be her calling. Over the next twentyplus years she builds a solid reputation and amasses a respectable nest egg.
She marries, has a son and a daughter, and ticks all the boxes the older generation would expect. She never thinks about Dad. He finds her again a year and a half ago, looking older, hunched, and at the very bottom of his life.
In the intervening years Dad has buried Martha, divorced Laura, lost the flat he once foolishly transferred to the son from his second marriage, and, as the usual drama goes, his new son tells him he doesnt need a dad. He turns to his daughter for a bit of help.
Emily helpsjust enough to give Dad nothing more, good or bad, in return for the years he gave her as a child. She finds a modest flat without trouble. During the viewing she frankly tells the estate agent that she and her halfmad brother inherited it from their mother, that the brother never wants to sell his share, and that shes pricing it low so she can afford a deposit.
It suits me, Ill take it, she says cheerfully.
Are you sure? A respectable woman like you
Im buying it for myself, Emily reassures the agent. A week later she moves Dad and his few belongings into the splendid new place, announcing:
Make yourself at home; this is now your house.
She feels a dark, vengeful satisfaction as she hears Dads complaints and watches him fume over the way she treats him compared to how she treated Martha.
She now calls her mother, the woman who, unlike the nightmarish Martha of her childhood, never abused time or money, and she picks her up at the first ringrare these days. She buys her pricey birthday gifts and even sends her and her husband on a weeklong holiday abroad.
I raised you, Emily. I did the best I could.
And I support you now, Dad, just as you supported me. Heres the drab pasta you fed me while Mum dined on ham. Here are the cheap bangers, two packets today because they were on sale, and you see how thoughtful I am? You still have a pension, after all, and you can spend it how you like.
You ungrateful Dad sighs, staring at the sausage packets.
He doesnt fling them at her; he knows that if he shows the same prideful stubbornness he had in her childhood, hell be left with nothing, not even the corner of a room shes set aside for him out of twisted mercy.
Im grateful, Dad. I return your kindness tenfold, Emily says.
Friends tell her shes too nice to a betraying father, that she should just cut him off and let him rot on the street. Emily doesnt wish him death, and after all, he never put her in a childrens home. He looked after her, however barely. Thats why she treats him the way she does now.
She knows she cant expect more; love and care are scarce resources not everyone deserves. She learned that early, and she will keep applying that hardwon knowledge.
