Unfairness
Mum, Emily repeated, voice wavering like candlelight, Why did I only get three hundred and thirty thousand? I was expecting a million The amount made no sense, weightless coins floating through her mind.
From the upstairs bathroom, came the distant whirring of her mothers hairdryer. It flicked off suddenly. Vera, her mother, replied through the strange echo of the house:
Yes, thats right. Three hundred and thirty, Vera said expertly, as if arranging ghosts on an invisible chessboard.
But Emily knew she deserved much more than that.
Three hundred and thirty? But Mum, what happened to the other six hundred and seventy? I thought Id get a million. Its my fathers money. You were supposed to send it after selling the flat in Brighton.
Oh, Emily, dont dive into your sums again, Vera sighed, her voice a draught under the door. You know I did everything fairly.
What do you mean fairly? The floorboards beneath her feet moaned their complaints. I gave you power of attorney to sell the flat I inherited from Dad. I asked for the money to be transferred to me. You were only handling it. Wheres the rest vanished to?
Emily felt as if shed relaxed her grip just as the current grew sharp and cold.
I did transfer it! The hairdryer screamed, then stopped, then her mum went on, But I acted as a mother. A good mother. I split the money between all my children. Even share. Thats your legal third.
All, Emily inwardly echoed, should have meant all.
You split my fathers inheritance three ways? Between me and and them? By them, she meant her stepbrothers, Oliver and Harry. Mum, thats my money. My dad. We dont even have the same fathers, if you need reminding.
What does that matter? Veras voice grew brisk as she started brushing her hair. Its family money now. Theyre your brothers, and Im your mother. Would you honestly have me sit back and watch you hoard such a windfall while your brothers looked on, green with envy? Thats not right! I equalised the odds. A fair share for all.
Emily wished she could wind back to the day she signed away her rights, slap herself awake in that dreary solicitor’s office, and refuse.
A fair share? You sliced up my million into three and called it even! What about the rest? The flat sold for more than that.
True, there was a bit more after all the deductions, Vera said breezily, I rounded down. As for the remainder, I kept it for my trouble. Would you have wanted to deal with all that paperwork? No! I sorted it while you were busy with your city job.
Forgive me if I fail to see the heroics.
Careful with your tone! barked Vera. Your father might have been your father, but Im your mum. I decide. And lets be honest youre the eldest, love, you need less than the boys. The lads will be starting families soon, and you you dont need so much, do you?
Oh, I see. Im not meant to build a home? Or am I to scrimp because Im just the girl and not much is required of me? Emilys voice was sharp as wind off the Channel. Send the rest, Mum. Now.
No.
It rang out: full-stop, stone, a closing door.
Her mother knew Emily wouldnt do anything drastic. After all, whod sue their own mum over an inheritance? The neighbours would gossip for generations. And Vera was still, in a way, her mother, even if their calls were as rare as foxes in the city.
Weeks passed. Emily gathered her scattered finances into neat little boxes in her head. On social media, she saw it: her brothers, gleaming with the naïve delight of small fortunes. Oliver grinned beside a brand-new blue Fiesta. Harry posted a selfie, My new baby!: a cheap car with a shining bonnet.
Let them have their toys, Emily thought. She simply set aside her three hundred and thirty thousand pounds and waited. “Patience is golden,” her gran always used to say, wrapped in that ancient tartan shawl, as if she spun the saying herself.
A year slipped past. Emily worked and saved, planning with calm edges, letting the bitterness slowly drift out like tidewater, but never forgotten. Vera chatted on the phone as if life unfurled itself cleanly, forgetting the past with every spring blossom.
Then one chilly morning, Veras tone on the phone was so strange Emily felt a gust of mist at the back of her neck.
Whats wrong, Mum?
Grief fell into the room, cold as old laundry. Grandma Harry and Ollie’s gran she passed away this morning.
Emily watched herself from above, oddly distant this was never her gran. The woman had no more role in Emilys life than a flat behind rain-streaked glass. Of course, she felt sorry.
Well. Im sorry for your loss, she said carefully.
Theres so much to do funerals, paperwork I can’t manage it all on my own. The boys, they havent a clue what to do. Could you come? Help a bit?
Emily didnt refuse out of malice her job simply wouldn’t allow it. She was no more the prodigal daughter than a stone is an egg.
Mum, I cant. I barely knew her, and I cant just dash out of the office to attend a funeral for someone I met perhaps three times in my life.
Veras plea drifted through the phone, a lost balloon: Oh, do be an angel!
I cant come, but I can send some money. How much do you need? Ill send it this afternoon.
Vera almost refused, then relented. Its not quite the same but thank you. Could you spare twenty thousand?
Of course. And Ill send a little extra, call it my tributemy way of showing respect for her memory, Emily said, knowing this would close the ledger between them.
Thank you, Em. Youve always done right by us.
Emily ended the call, awash in a rotten satisfaction. She had purchased, neatly and with receipts, her absence. She had built herself an alibi.
Half a year, marked only by the changing leaves, and the brothers had acquired newer, shinier toys perhaps motorbikes, perhaps the latest iPhones.
On a foggy Tuesday, Emily decided it was time. She phoned Veras number from the canteen beside her office, quietly preparing for another endless meeting.
Mum! How are you?
Oh, hello, love! Were muddling along. Harry landed a new job better than the last. Olivers seeing a nice girl.
Im glad for them. Mum, I did want to check something with you
Veras voice tensed, sensing shadows. Something?
Its been over six months since their grandmothers passing, yes? The inheritance should be sorted by now.
The air thickened with every word.
Emily, wheres this heading? Of course its sorted.
So. Wheres my share?
What share? Vera turned her innocence on with all the force of a blustery Sunday. Except Emily could tell she was bluffingher mum always sounded breathless when she lied.
From their grans estate.
She wasnt your grandmother.
And what does that matter? Emily pressed on, echoing Veras old tune. Im your child. You always said all us kids should be treated equally. You sliced my inheritance from Dad in three, to keep things fair your words.
Emily, this isnt the same! Vera started to raise her voice, pushing towards outrage. Its completely different!
How so? You said inheritance should be shared; youre the mother, you decide, you wanted to support your children equally!
Dont be daftdont compare chalk and cheese
Isnt that convenient! Emily interrupted, her tone sharper than a broken bottle. When it was Dads money, it became the familys; split three ways. But now that its their grans property, suddenly bloodlines and boundaries matter again?
Stop twisting my words! Vera was swelling with indignation. Are you really claiming you deserve a slice of my ex-mother-in-laws legacy? How would I even tell the boys?
What Im saying, Emily replied with a level calm, is that you borrowed my trust to take a third of my inheritance for the sake of fairness. You set the rule. Now, I want to play by the same rules you loved so much. You helped with their grannys property?
Its all spent now.
On what? Cars? Renovations? Well, I have my own plans, too. I want my share, Mum. Im not satisfied with less simply because Im the girl and it suits your story.
Her mother fell quiet, weighing escape routes she herself had bricked up over a year ago. Thats how it always was in their house: her stepfather a father only to the boys, always the best for them, while Emily was just an extra, tolerated but never embraced by the grandmother, never really defended by Vera.
Em, what are you really like? Why do you care so much about the money? Youve got work, youre young and fit. The boys need homes, responsibilitiestheyre men! Its harder for them!
So your position is: Dads inheritance was communal, because were family. But their grans is theirs alone, because theyre the boys and Im just the girl?
Dont be cheeky, Vera said. Where did you get this greedy streak from?
Vera would never admit shed been unfair. For Vera, Emilys insistence on justice was nothing but pettiness.
You might want to remember, you were under legal obligation to transfer the full sum from Dads flat. The statute of limitations isnt up. Im not threatening, just observing.
Emily! Are you blackmailing me? Vera whispered, frightened now.
No, Mum. But I could still pursue what Im owed. Its worth thinking about.
A month later, the balance appeared in Emilys accountevery last pound. And then her mother blocked her from every device in the house, as if erasing a dream she couldnt quite remember.
