So, I had to say no to my own family.
Ive made up my mind. Im putting the flat in Maxs name. Youre alright with that, arent you, love?
Julia put down her spoon. The metal clinked dully against her saucer.
To Max? Mum, hes three.
So hell grow up secure. Anyway, Ill move in with you. Youre living by yourself, theres enough room.
Her mum, Margaret Thompson, was standing in the hallway with her coat still on, clutching a bag that barely hid the edge of some important-looking document. She still wore her favourite perfume Night Jasmine the same one shes been buying for over twenty years from the chemists on High Street. Whenever Julia caught a whiff of it, it always gave her a strange jolt, like you get just before a summer thunderstorm. It was heavy and sweet, and it filled every inch of Julias small flat in Elm Road.
Julia didnt say a thing. She just got up, went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Her hands worked automatically: got the mugs down, found the sugar, sorted the teaspoons. But the word was stuck on a loop in her mind: transfer.
Tea? she asked, her voice careful.
Yes, please, love. Her mum finally took her coat off, hung it over the back of a chair. She sat on the settee and did her usual scan of the room. Bit cold in here, isnt it? Is the radiator on?
Its fine.
I think its chilly. Its always nice and warm at ours on Victoria Road, though. Rick makes sure. Hes straight onto the letting agent if anything goes wrong.
Julia set her mums tea down and took her own seat opposite. She studied her mums familiar face, those little lines around her eyes, lips pressed into that tight line. Sixty-eight, hair all tidy and silver, a new blue cardigan Rick had bought last week. Hed been boasting on WhatsApp: Treated Mum she was over the moon.
The solicitors expecting us tomorrow at ten, her mum continued, stirring her tea. Rick sorted everything. Got the papers, booked the appointment. Bless him.
Did you even ask about my half? Julia said quietly.
Margarets eyes flickered. Surprise, maybe.
What half? Youre my daughter. Were family, arent we? It stays in the family, just on your nephew, thats all. Max will need it one day.
But I own half that flat, Mum. On paper. Half.
So? Margaret sipped. Ouch. Still hot. Youre not planning to live there, are you? Rick, Sophie, and Max need some space. Ill just stay here with you. Its nothing for you, is it?
Julia glanced at the old photo hanging on the wall. The family, back in the nineties. Her dad, her mum, herself and Rick, about eleven and eight, really. Shes on the edge of the shot, nearly cut off. Ricks in the centre, being held by Mum far too old to be in arms, grinning away. Her dads looking off somewhere. Julia, hands by her sides, stone-faced.
You didnt ask me, she repeated, soft as anything.
Whats there to ask? Her mum dropped her cup onto the saucer with a slight rattle. Im your mum. I know best.
You always do, Julia replied.
Exactly, Margaret said, with a little satisfied nod. Rick was so pleased. He said I was wise. Not every mum takes care of her kids like I do.
Julia left her tea, got up and poured the rest down the sink. Stood for a minute gazing out the window. Outside, a drizzly, grim November evening, street lamps on already, damp leaves everywhere, stickier than they ever look. The road sweeper down the way was herding them towards the kerb, half-brained in his fluorescent vest.
Ill think about it, she said, not turning around.
Nothing to think about, love. Be at the solicitors for ten. Ill send you the address.
I said, Ill think about it.
Silence. Julia heard her mum getting her bag, putting her coat back on, the footsteps to the door, that little pause.
Youre upsetting me, Julia. You always have to be so difficult. Not like Rick.
The door shut. Julia stayed by the window until she heard the ancient lift rumbling away. She went and lay on the sofa, not bothering with the covers. Stared at the ceiling. There was a little crack, winding out from the corner all the way to the main light. She knew every twist of it, how many evenings shed counted those lines instead of sheep.
Her phone buzzed. It was Claire.
How are you? Come by the Wheatsheaf. Ive baked your favourite oat biscuits.
Julia glanced at the screen and replied: Ta, Ill pop in tomorrow.
She closed her eyes, holding the phone to her chest.
Suddenly, an old memory surfaced. Eight years old, Ricks birthday. Partys over, just the one big slice of cake left, topped with a rose of icing. She just stared at it, licking her lips. Her mum set the slice on Ricks plate.
For you, son. Birthday boy privilege.
What about Julia? Rick asked, his mouth already full.
Julias big. Shell share with you next time, wont you, darling?
Julia nodded, left the room and went to her own. Lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dad popped in later, sat on the end of her bed, stroked her hair.
Dont be cross, he whispered. Mum just dotes on Rick. Being the younger, you know.
Im not cross, Julia answered.
Dad sighed and left. She stayed and counted marks on the ceiling, even though it was still pristine. She counted anyway maybe heartbeats, she thought.
She was up early the next morning, head pounding. Shower, get dressed. Work started at half seven, its twenty minutes to walk to Home & Heat Supplies. She liked the walk, especially now in the autumn: sharp air, leaves scuffing underfoot, everyone wrapped up and not making eye contact. Gave her time to think, uninterrupted.
The office smelt of coffee and paperwork. Nina, the senior accountant, was already at her desk, sorting through invoices.
Morning, Ju. You look peaky.
Just a bit tired, thats all.
Need to get your vitamins. Im taking Vitaboost, swear by it.
Julia nodded, fired up her computer, and got lost in her spreadsheets. Numbers flicked by, rows turning into columns, so routine it was soothing. Didnt have to think, just keep on typing.
She didnt go to the canteen for lunch, just pulled on her jacket and went out. Two streets down, she cut across the park. The fountain was dry for winter, just a cement bowl gathering wet leaves. She sat on the empty bench, took the sandwich out her bag but didnt eat. Just held it tight and watched the trees.
Her phone rang. Rick.
She didnt answer. Put it away. A minute later, a text: Sis, whats going on? Mums really upset. Call her.
Julia deleted it. Bit into her sandwich. Bread was dry, ham tasted of nothing. She ate slowly, watching the fountain. She was remembering being twelve, sent out in a downpour to buy bread. Rick was sick, feverish. Mum sat with him, sponging his brow. Julia ran all the way, soaked through. She covered the bread under her jacket coming back. Handed it over. Mum nodded without looking up. Rick moaned, mum hurried over with tea and honey.
Julia, get changed, she called over her shoulder. Quiet, Ricks sleeping.
Julia peeled off her wet things in her room, wrapped up in a blanket on her bed. Her teeth had begun to chatter. By evening, she was running a fever herself. Mum stuck a thermometer under her arm.
37.5. Thats fine. Have raspberry tea, youll be alright.
Next day, Julia dragged herself into school, fever and all. Sat like an icicle, hugging her cardigan, nodded when the teacher asked if she was OK. At home, Mum was making chicken soup for Rick. When Julia sat down, Mum took the bowl away.
Thats Ricks. He needs to get well. You have some bread and butter.
So she did. Washed it down with tap water. Did her homework in her room.
She only got back to her desk near the end of lunch. Nina gave her a concerned look.
Sure youre not coming down with something?
Im fine.
In the evening, back at her own flat, Rick called again. This time, she picked up.
Hi.
Julia, whats up? Mum says youre refusing to sign.
I didnt say I wouldnt. I said Id think about it.
Theres nothing to think about! We dont need that flat, and you never stay there. Max does. Hes your nephew too, you know.
Thats right, he is my nephew.
Great, so youll sign. The solicitors expecting you tomorrow.
She didnt say a wordjust listened to his heated, annoyed breathing on the other end.
Julia, you there?
Im here.
So, you coming?
Im not coming tomorrow.
What?
I said Im not coming.
Are you kidding? Mums spent all week gathering paperwork! Ive organised everything! And you
Rick, its my half too, by law. I havent agreed to any of this.
Whats to agree?! Youre my sister! Family! Or have you forgotten what that means?!
He was shouting now. Julia held the phone at arms length. She could still hear his voice: selfish, ungrateful, always been that way.
Calm down, Rick.
I wont! Youve always been jealous! Ever since we were kids! Because Mum loved me more!
She put the phone down on the table. Heard his ranting fade away, muffled. She got a glass of water in the kitchen, drained it in a gulp. Her hands were shaking. She looked at them: forty-three years old, thin fingers, plain nails, no ringsnever had one.
The phone stayed silent after that. Rick sent a text: Well talk once youve calmed down. But youre still expected tomorrow.
Julia lay on the sofa in her clothes, wrapped in a blanket, knees up. Rain tapped against the window, crooked little rivers running down the glass. She watched them until her eyes blurred, then closed them, memories spinning like some ancient film reel in her mind.
When she was sixteen, the postman brought a letter from LondonKings College. Shed been accepted. Scholarship, room in halls, the works. She was bouncing around the house clutching that letter, ran to the kitchen.
Mum, I got in! London! I made it!
Margaret was stirring porridge, her back to the stove. She looked over, read the letter, slow and silent. Handed it back.
No.
What?
Youre not going. Wholl look after me and Rick? Your dads at work all day. Ricks GCSEs are coming up; hell need your help. If you leave, its all on me.
But, Mum, its London! Its my dream!
You and your dreams. Youre a girl, Julia. A girls fine here. Youll get married, have kids. Why would you want London?
But mum
I said no. And dont go telling your dad, hell just agree with me. I know him.
Julia stood there, stuck in the kitchen holding the letter. Mum went back to her porridge. Julia left, returned to her own room and lay down. She didnt cry. Just stared at the ceiling. That evening, she burned the letter over the bathroom sink, watched it curl black and disappear down the plughole.
Next day, her mum told her dad over dinner:
Julias decided to stay. Shell go for the local college, study accountancy. Thats sensibleshell be just fine here.
Her dad glanced over. Julia nodded. He said nothing; finished his soup and went to watch the news.
Rick asked:
Can you help me with maths? Ive got a test tomorrow.
Of course, Julia said.
That night she slipped into the dark kitchen for water. Stubbed her toe and almost cried, but just stood there holding her foot, breathing through the pain. With morning, it was swollen. Mum said to dab a bit of Savlon on it.
The next few days barely registered. Julia went through work on autopilot. Lunch in the park, flicking through old photos on her phone. The family portrait, the one from the wall. And moreRick in uniform, first day of school; Rick fishing with Dad. She was always at the edge, sometimes absent entirely except as the one behind the camera.
Her phone vibrated with her mums name.
She ignored the call. Margaret sent a text: Julia, the solicitor was waiting. Ricks upset. Weve moved it to the day after. Will you come?
Julia deleted it. Went back to the office.
Then came the evening when Julia let herself into her flat to find voices on the stairs. Rick and Sophie, his wife, were waiting. Rick looked flushed and sulky, Sophie just quiet, head down.
Finally, Rick grumbled. Weve been waiting an hour.
Why?
Need to talk. Will you let us in?
Julia opened the door. Rick stormed inside, taking up half the sofa. Sophie hovered, took off her coat, hung it carefully.
Tea? Julia asked.
Skip it, Rick waved a hand. Lets get to the point? Sit down.
She pulled up a chair. Sophie perched on the edge of an armchair, eyes on the carpet.
Look, Julia, Rick leant forward, why are you being so stubborn? Mums getting old. She needs peace. Theres plenty of room here for you two. Its a two-bed, its huge.
I never said she was a problem.
Exactly! So you agree, great. You sign off your share, Max gets the flat, everyones happy.
The flat is not his, Rick.
Whose then? Yours? You dont even live there!
Half belongs to me. On the deeds.
Who cares about deeds?! Were family! Families dont divide things up!
Julia stared at her brother: red-faced, arms whirling about. The paunch over his belt. Forty now, casual labour here and there, living off Mums cooking and washing, Sophie minding the kid.
Rick, are you working right now? she asked.
He bristled.
Whats that got to do with anything?
Just wondering. Are you?
I am. Did a shift yesterday.
How much do you make?
Enough. Thats not the point.
Are you paying your share of the bills?
Mum pays, its her flat.
I pay half the bills. Fifteen years now.
Rick fell silent. Sophie glanced up at Julia, then back down.
So what? he managed at last. You can afford it. Youre single. We have a child to think of.
Thats why you want the flat signed over to Max?
Whats wrong with that? Hes her grandson! Any gran would do the same!
Her half, maybe. My half? You need to ask.
Youre bloody heartless! Rick exploded, leaping to his feet. Always have been! Mum was right!
What did she say?
That youre cold. You dont care about anyone. Thats why you never married. No one could put up with you!
His words crashed down with a thud. Sophie shrank back further. Julia sat, immobile. She watched her brothers twisted face, his bunched fists.
Out, she said quietly.
What?
Leave my flat, please.
Throwing your own brother out?
Leave. Now.
Rick was speechless. Sophie shot up, grabbed her coat.
Rick, lets go, she whispered.
Sod you! he spat at Sophie before glowering back at Julia. Youll regret this. Mum will hear how youve treated me. Shell know what youre really like.
He slammed the door. Sophie slipped out silently. Julia sat on, listening to their footsteps die away. Then she got herself some water, noticing how steady her hands felt this time. Inside, though, was nothing but cold.
She remembered when Rick brought his first wife, Angela, home. Flashy, noisyMum took to her immediately.
Move in, she said at supper. Rick cant live alone. Hes used to family.
Angela and her things filled the box roomJulias room. Julia was bumped onto the folding bed in the lounge.
Just until they get settled, love, Mum told her.
Three months. Then Julia rented a room in a shared house across town. On her own money. Plus still covering half the bills for the Victoria Road flatMum insisted.
Help us, darling. Pensions tight. Rick needs support, hes got a family now.
She helped. Every month. No thanks. It was just how things were.
When Angela left after a year, Rick rang Julia, sobbing.
Jules, come here, Im desperate.
She came. He moaned for hours about how selfish Angela had been, never understood, always wanting more.
She wanted her own place imagine! Heres perfect! Mum cooks, Mum cleans!
Julia just made him sugary tea. Mum stroked his head.
Never mind, love. Well find you someone better. Not like her.
Two years later, he brought home Sophie. Quiet, invisible. Mum approved.
This ones alright. Doesnt make a fuss. Loves Rick.
Sophie moved in, shared the little room with Rick, helped with chores, had Max, faded into the background completely.
Julia seldom saw them. Shed drop by for birthdays, bring gifts, sit at the table, not saying much. Mum would rave about Max, Rick would talk up his latest construction job, Sophie would serve and clear without a word. Julia would leave early, blaming tiredness.
Suits you, Mum would say. You always were distant. Got your own life.
Her own life was a small flat on Elm Road. Job at Home & Heat. Evenings with TV. Occasionally seeing Claire at the Rose Café. That was about it.
That night, Julia lay awake, tossing. Ricks words echoed: Heartless. Selfish. Always jealous.
Maybe, she thought. Maybe she did envy him. That he was loved, forgiven anything; that weakness was allowed in him but not for her. She had to carry on, always.
In the morning, she woke to the doorbell. Threw on a dressing gown, answered it.
There stood Margaret, holding a paper bag that smelled strongly of apple pie.
Morning, love. I made your favourite.
Julia stepped aside. Her mum went to the kitchen, unwrapped the pie. Golden crust, apple slices just visible.
Rick asked for it, but I thought you deserved some too, she said, slicing it up. Come on, eat.
Julia sat, took a bite. Sweet and crumbly. Same as always, and yet this time, meant for her.
Good? her mum asked.
Its good.
Thats nice, Margaret poured the tea. Love, what did you say to Rick last night? He was upset all evening. Sophie said you threw him out.
I did ask him to go.
Why?
He was rude.
Rick? Hes the kindest person going! Hes just stressed. The flats for Max, you see?
I know.
Good. So youll sign the papers?
Julia put her cup down and looked at her mum. Steady. Calm. Her mum sat there, sure of herself as ever. Certain of the answer.
No, Mum.
What do you mean, no?
Im not signing.
Margaret froze, cup halfway to her lips.
Youre joking?
Im not.
But why not? Youre my daughter! Im old! What do you want me to do?
Youre not old, Mum. Youre sixty-eight and still going strong. Youve got a pension. You can manage fine.
How am I meant to live on my own? With Rick, Sophie and Max all?
Thats your choice, not mine. You chose them. I didnt.
But were family! Family!
Family doesnt divide things up, Rick said. Funny, though, isnt it? Why was your love only for him? Why was everything always Ricks? Why should the flat my flat in part be his too?
Margaret went pale. Put her cup down hard enough to spill.
So youre abandoning me?
Im not abandoning you. Im just not letting you give away whats mine.
Its not a thing! Its our home! Family home!
If you say so, Mum. I never really lived in it, not properly.
Whered you get that idea?!
Mum, Julia leaned in, locked eyes do you know how many times you told me you loved me?
No answer.
Not once. In forty-three years. Rick hears it every day. Ive heard you say it to him.
But you must know I love you.
No, Mum. I dont.
Margaret stood up, lips quivering, face pinched and angry.
Ungrateful. After all Ive done for you. Raised you, fed you. And you
You raised Rick. You just put up with me.
How dare you!
Because its true. And you know it.
Margaret snatched up her bag, left the pie. She headed to the door.
Youll regret this, Julia. When youre all alone. Thats when youll learn familys everything. You lost yours now.
Door slammed. Julia sat at the table looking at the pie, at the spreading spot of tea on the cloth. Washed up, took ages drying a single plate, then lay on the settee once more, staring at the ceilings crack, that old, familiar squiggle, counting bends just like all those years ago.
Her phone was silent all day. She waited for a call from her mum, from Rick. But nothing. In the evening, another message from Claire: How are you? Not seen you in a while. Come to the Wheatsheaf for a catch-up.
Julia texted back, Ill drop in tomorrow. Left the phone on the table, watched the street lamps outside. People hurrying home to their families and dinner, warmth. She only had her own quiet, empty flat.
She remembered being twenty-five and bringing a boyfriend home for the first time. Met him at workhe sorted the computers. Film, dinner, then after a month shes brave enough for family introductions.
They got there in the evening. Her mum laid the table. Rick showed up, barely looked up from his phone, her mum asked her boyfriend his name Andy, he replied. She just nodded. All evening Margaret turned the conversation back to Rick, his job, his plans. Her mum was full of praise: Look at you, Rick, so hard-working!
Andy just ate his salad, Julia tried to bring him in, but her mother kept shutting him out, back to Rick. When they left, Margaret called after:
Well, lets see how long this one lasts.
Andy walked her home, kissed her goodnight.
Your mums strange, he said gently.
I know.
She doesnt like me.
She doesnt like anyone but Rick.
He thought about that.
What about you?
She shrugged. He stopped asking. Two more months, then no more calls. She sent a message: I get it. Take care. No reply.
And after that, she never took anyone else home. Boyfriends came and went, always complaining she was distant, never really said what she wanted. She didnt explain. Just let them go.
Next morning, she wandered over to the Wheatsheaf. Claire was arranging cakes.
Julia! There you are. Was starting to think youd fallen off the face of the earth.
Just busy.
Go on, get the kettle on and tell me whats going on.
Julia shrugged. Claire peered at her.
Something up?
Just family stuff.
Your mum again?
Hmm.
Claire sighed. She knew the story. Shed heard fragments over the years. Julia never liked to moan, but sometimes, it leaked out.
You dont owe her anything, you know, Claire said, leaning on the counter.
Maybe not, but it still feels like I should.
Thats because she made you feel that way, darling. Some people are experts at guilt-tripping.
Julia was silent. Claire went on:
My mum was the same. Lifelong debt for being born, for being raised, for literally just existing. But the other way around, she owed me nowt. Handy, right?
Shes still my mother
Doesnt make her holy. Any parent can pop out a child big deal but raising them with respect, with love, thats what counts. Did she respect you? Love you, honestly?
Julia shook her head.
So what exactly do you owe her?
Claire was blunt but spot on. Julia knew it. Hard to admit, though. Meant letting go of everything youre supposed to believe that family comes first, that mum knows best, you owe her forever.
I dont know, Claire. Im just tired.
Then rest. Tell her no, and start living for yourself.
I did.
And?
Shes upset. Rick called me selfish.
Of course he did. Hes been hiding behind her all his life. Of course he wants you obedient. Less hassle for him.
Julia nodded. Claire hugged her.
Good for you, love. First time youve actually done whats right for yourself.
Julia hugged back. Quiet together, just for a bit.
Go on, off you pop. Got to finish these cakes. Come back again, yeah?
I will.
Julia walked home, kettle on, bit of leftover pie. Ate it at the window. Tasted good, kind of sad.
That evening, Rick rang again, voice all smooth and reasonable.
Hi, Jules.
Hi.
Do us a favour can we forget shouting about last time? Were adults, right? Sorry and all that.
Fine.
Brilliant. Mum says youre refusing to sign. Alright, forget the signing off part. What if we do it differently? Put the flat in Maxs name as a gift from you and Mum. Youd just need to sign. Come on, you love your nephew?
Rick, Im not signing any papers.
A pause. His voice turned icy:
What do you mean, not signing?
Not signing. Im not agreeing to give up my half, Rick.
You know what youre doing? Youre turfing out your own nephew!
He still lives there. Nothing changes.
But he doesnt OWN it!
He lives in it. It belongs to Mum and me.
Who cares about paperwork?! Were family!
In a family, everyone counts. Not just you, Rick. Youve always been centre stage. Im done.
Youre done? What about me? Im working, putting food on the table for my family!
Youre living under Mums roof, eating her food, spending her money.
Get lost! he yelled, and hung up.
Julia put down her phone, took herself off to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, looked into the mirror. Wet face, hair wild. She brushed it back. Went back, lay under her blanket and tried to sleep.
That night, she dreamed of being five, in a room full of people. Everyones around Rick, laughing, Mum holds his hand. Dad taking photos. Julia, in the back, cant move, cant shout. No ones looking at her. Not one.
She woke in a sweat. Crouched on the sofa, hugging her knees and breathing deep. Grey light out the window, thick clouds. She made coffee, sat by the window and watched the world start work. Cars crawling along, pigeons pecking at crumbs.
Her phone rang again. Claire.
Jules, you alright?
Yeah, fine.
Listen, I think you should talk to someone a counsellor, maybe? Sort through all this. It helped me, once.
Not sure.
Fine isnt when you weep into your pillow every night. And I can hear it in your voice.
Julia didnt answer. Claire was right she did cry sometimes, late, silent, so no one would know.
Ill think about it.
Do. And if you need to chat, ring me. Im always here.
Thanks, Claire.
Julia got on with her day, same as always. At lunch, she went back to her bench, sandwich uneaten, just holding it.
Text from an unfamiliar number: Its Sophie. Could I talk to you?
She thought, then replied: About what?
The answer came: Rick. Your mum. I need advice.
After a minute, Julia sent: OK. Come by this evening after seven. Only you.
Thanks. Ill be there alone.
Evening came. Julia opened the door to find Sophie on the landing, just herself, pale and thin.
Hi, Sophie said softly.
Hello. Come in.
Sophie took off her coat, sat gingerly on the sofa, fists clenched.
Tea? Julia offered.
Yes, please.
Julia brought two mugs, sat nearby. Sophie warmed her hands, saying nothing.
I dont know where to start, Sophie said eventually. Its all a mess.
Just tell me.
She nodded. Sipped tea.
Rick keeps pushing your mum to sign the flat to Max. Now shes having second thoughts, because youre against it. And Ricks furious, Julia. Really furious.
Julia nodded.
He shouts at her. Calls her useless. Tells her we cant keep living like this. Threatens to chuck her out if she wont sign.
And you?
Im scared. Max hears all the shouting, cries at night. And I Im just scared.
Scared of what?
That Rickll kick us out too, if the flats not his. He keeps calling me useless, saying I never bring any money in, that he only keeps me for Maxs sake.
Her voice was trembling. Julia passed her a tissue. Sophie dabbed her face.
Why dont you work? Julia asked, gently.
He wont let me. Says a wife should stay home with the kid. Says his mum never worked, and it was fine.
His mum did work, up to retirement. Factory job.
Sophie blinked.
Really?
Really.
Sophie was quiet. Then:
So, will you sign the papers?
No.
Why?
Julia thought. Because it was about more than property. Dignity, self-respect. The right to say no.
Because I can, she said. And I am.
Sophie nodded.
I get it. Id probably refuse too, if I had the strength. But I dont. Im just weak.
Not weak. Just worn down. Theres a difference.
Sophie gazed at her, puzzled.
Worn down?
Ricks bullied you. Made you so dependent youre scared to break away.
But I love him.
Love isnt fear, Sophie. If youre scared, thats not love.
Sophie finished her tea and stood.
Best get going Rick doesnt know Im here. Would kick off if he found out.
Take care, Sophie.
Thank you for listening.
Sophie left. Julia washed up slowly, thinking through it all. Sophie was a victim. Like Julia once was. The only difference Julia had found her no. Sophie, not yet.
That night, Julia couldnt sleep. Thoughts of her mum, was she angry, regretful, or did she see, finally?
A late text: Julia, Im not well. Ricks shouting at me. Come round.
Hands hovering, Julia typed: Mum, I cant solve things between you and Rick. Thats up to you.
Quick reply: Youre heartless. Im your mother.
Julia turned off her phone. Lay still, breathing deep, willing herself not to cry.
In the morning, three more texts. Last at 2am: Rick says I have to move out if I dont sign. Where am I meant to go?
Julia didnt answer. She went to work, but her hands shook all day. Nina asked if she was alright, Julia nodded.
In the evening, Claire rang.
Whats up?
Mum says Ricks kicking her out.
And?
Nothing. Im not replying.
Thats right. Let her sort her own mess, shes an adult.
I feel guilty.
Listen, Julia. Youre not a bad daughter. Theyre just not used to you standing up for yourself.
Julia didnt reply. Claire continued:
You did the right thing. Stick with it.
Thanks, Claire.
Julia made tea and sat watching the rain. Her phone buzzed. Rick: Happy now? Mums in bits. Your fault.
Delete. Phone on silent.
A week passed. Not a word from Mum or Rick. Same work, same evenings, Julias anxiety constant.
Saturday morning. Knock at the door. Margaret, hair sodden, without an umbrella, shivering, a battered plastic bag of paperwork in hand.
Can I come in? she murmured.
Julia moved aside. Margaret shed her wet coat and sat at the table. Julia handed over a towel.
Dry off.
Im not going to sign it, Margaret said in a small voice.
Julia stayed silent.
Rick pushed me, last night. When I said I wasnt signing. He pushed me against the wall. Called me useless. Told me Id be out in the street. He doesnt care about me, Julia, just the flat.
Her voice trembled. Julia sat quietly, watching.
Youve come to me, off the street, she said eventually.
Yes. Can I stay, just for a bit? Until I find somewhere?
Emotion tangled up inside Julia: anger, pity, old wounds.
You can, Mum. But just for now.
Margaret nodded, head bowed.
Thank you, love.
Julia made two cups of tea. Sat at the table with her.
Im sorry, Margaret whispered.
What for?
For everything. For not loving you like Rick. For not seeing you. For using you.
Julia sat listening, eyes on her mums old, tired face.
Enough, Mum.
No. I have to say it. I was a crap mother. Only realised it now.
Julia stood and stared out the window. Rain was clearing, light breaking through.
You didnt make Rick what he is, Julia said, but you let him believe he came first.
What do I do now?
Live your life. You can stay, but Im not your bolt hole, OK?
Understood.
Julia turned to her.
And Im not listening to family sob stories no more Rick drama. Live your life. Ill live mine. Deal?
Deal.
They kept to themselves that night. Mum did the kitchen, Julia took the lounge. Heavy, but not hateful quiet.
At midnight Julia woke to sobbing. Margaret was at the kitchen table, head in hands. Julia paused in the doorway. She didnt go to her, just stood.
Margaret looked up, wiped her face.
Sorry. Did I wake you?
No.
Julia poured her water, offered the glass. Margaret drank.
Cant sleep.
Me neither.
Margaret asked,
Will you ever forgive me?
Julia thought. Did forgiving mean forgetting, pretending nothing happened, or just letting go?
I dont know, Mum.
Margaret nodded.
Alright.
Best try to sleep. New day tomorrow.
Mum shuffled off. Julia sat and watched the city sleeping.
She remembered when her dad died, middle of the night. Sudden. She dashed to the hospital, but it was over. Her mum sat in the waiting room, gripping Ricks hand, comforting him, ignoring Julia. Julia stood by, arms at her sides, dry-eyed.
After the funeral, it was Julia, not Rick, who walked home through rain, soaking. Mum said: Youre strong, love. For me. Ricks so sensitive, its harder on him. Julia nodded and just carried on.
That morning, Julia found her mum up at the kitchen early.
Morning, love.
Morning.
Julia sat down with her coffee. Silence.
Got any plans? her mum asked suddenly.
What do you mean?
For your life. Yourself.
Julia shrugged.
Same as ever. Work, live. Bit late for anything else.
What about a family? Or a man?
Julia laughed.
Mum, Im forty-three. I think that ships sailed.
Why? Still time.
For what? Being alones easier for me.
Long pause.
My fault, love.
Dont.
No, let me. If I hadnt stopped you going to London. If I hadnt scared off those boys
Maybe youd have had your own family.
Julia set her mug down.
Pasts past, Mum. You cant change it.
How do you stay so calm?
Im tired, Mum. I just want to live.
Her mum nodded, washed up, and disappeared for the day. She came back later.
Ive found a room to rent, near High Street. Ill move next week.
Alright.
Thank you for letting me stay.
Youre welcome.
Margaret looked at her.
Do you hate me?
Julia thought. Not hate, just emptiness.
No, Mum. I dont hate you.
So, what, nothing?
Just nothing.
Margaret nodded, sighed, and turned in.
That night the bell rang. Julia opened up in her dressing gown. Rick, half-cut, on the threshold.
Wheres Mum?
Sleeping.
Wake her up. I need a word.
Rick, its late. Go home.
Not until Ive spoken with her.
He tried to push in. Julia blocked him.
Rick, go. Or Ill call the police.
He laughed.
The police? On your own brother? Seriously?
Just go.
He raised his hand, but it dropped. Margaret appeared behind Julia.
Rick? What do you want?
Mum, come home. Why are you hiding out with her? I forgive you.
Margaret just looked at him at the mess he was.
No, Rick. Im not coming.
What?
Im not going back, Rick.
Are you mad? Im your son!
You are. But you dont love me or respect me. You just want what you can get. Im done.
He stepped towards her but Julia stood fast.
Time to go, Rick.
He shot her a look of pure hate, spat on the floor, and stormed out. The door banged. Margaret trembled against the wall.
Julia put her arm around her mum. For the first time in decades. Margaret pressed in and wept quietly, messily. Julia stroked her back. What could you say? That it would all turn out? A lie. That nobody was to blame? Also a lie.
They stood for ages. Then Margaret went to her room. Julia stayed up, wondering whether Margaret had finally understood. Maybe too late, but she had, at last.
Next morning, Margaret got up, packed her case.
Im going today.
So soon?
I dont want to be a burden.
Julia was silent. Margaret pulled on her coat and picked up her bag.
Ill call you, she promised.
Alright.
Mother and daughter at the door.
Youre brave, Mum, Julia said softly.
Margaret managed a sad smile.
So are you, love.
She went out and paused.
Youll ring, wont you?
Yes. When you need me.
The door clicked shut. Silence.
