A Family Heirloom
No! Dont try to talk me out of it, Mum! Im still going to do it!
Oh, Emily, why? Tell me, why on earth do you think you need this?
Because he walks into the room a whole minute before me, thats why! Because I cant bear to look at myself in the mirror! Because Ill never manage to build a normal life! No husband, no children! Oh, Mum! Dont you understand? Emily broke into tears and hurled her hairbrush at Winston, who had dozed off on her duvet.
The cushion he was steadily shredding with his claws, all the while eavesdropping on the argument raging above him, was lovingly embroidered by Emily herself. It had been meant for her grandmother as a present, but the grand falling-out that once split the sprawling Clarke family into two rival camps never allowed her to send it. The roses stitched into the velvet now belonged to Emily, though from time to time they fell victim to the wild raids of the insufferable feline representative of the Clarkes.
The cat had come to the house thanks to Emily, and she now believed herself solely responsible for educating the unruly beast, rescued once from the clutches of the local boys next door. They nearly tormented the poor creature to death, figuring that a cat with no collar has no one to defend it. Of course, they hardly spared a thought for the politely inquisitive girl studying music, who dreamed of being as gentle and delicate as her mother wished. But her father had other ideas, and so Emily possessed a black belt in karate and a clutter of trophies on her shelf, all of which made cleaning a nightmare for her. She detested tidying; dust collecting on her great achievements drove her mad. Her mother forbade moving the trophies, staunchly convinced this would boost her daughters self-esteem.
Sporting glory paid off: the boisterous boys scampered off, smarting from the encounter, while Emily became the guardian of a scrawny, balding creature with a bedraggled tail. That tail soon transformed, and the creature became a plump, brazen tomcat who firmly believed he owned Emily, and thus had no more worries in lifeapart from occasionally condescending to allow the girl to scratch him behind the ears as a reward for her devotion.
The day Winston became a true member of the family, Emily had returned from the Royal Academy, cross and miserable. Her preparations for the competition werent going well. Fingers that were usually nimble and obedient completely failed her the moment her fellow studentJamesentered the rehearsal room.
James, whom Emily had known almost as long as she knew herself, from their mutual days at primary school and then through music college, had suddenly become utterly foreign and incomprehensible. They hadnt seen each other over the summer, James had gone away on family matters, and when Emily met him again, she was seized by a baffling combination of anxiety and excitement when he, out of habit, slung his arm around her shoulders, talking animatedly to their classmates. This time, she hesitated, frozen beneath his hand, wanting desperately to let the moment lingeras if by standing there, she could prolong the dizzy gladness welling up inside her.
Normally, she would have wriggled away and thumped him good-naturedly on the head, but now, for some reason, she simply didnt want to move. Her heart pounded uncontrollably and when James dashed away waving his music sheets and bellowing something extravagant about a new symphony, Emily scolded herself quietly. Silly girl! To imagine something like that!
But that strange feeling had taken root and refused to let go. She followed Jamess tall silhouette with her eyes, but the moment he turned her way, her lashes fluttered down.
It was maddening and lovely at once. On the one hand, she wanted to confess everything, but the mere thought of it made her dizzy and numb-fingered.
Emily suffered in silence.
There was no one she could tell. Her mother wouldnt understand. Or perhaps Emily only imagined that, but it didnt matter. She simply hadnt the courage to admit to her mother that she was in love for the first time.
Emilys relationship with her mother was complicated: they adored each other, yet both were too strong-willed. This meant controlling herself, not hurting the one she loved, but such equilibrium was rare. Then thered be an argumentnot of the plate-smashing, shouting sort, but the kind where Emily would quietly shut her bedroom door, and silence would descend on the house.
Cultural annihilation, Granny Clarke used to say, before the great rift, but then she would add, Remarkable nonsense!
Emily agreed, but couldnt fight ingrained tradition, so she carried on regardless, usually making the first move to restore peace.
Yet Emily always knew she was lovedso deeply by her mother, Amelia Clarke, that it bordered on obsession. For Amelia, nothing was more precious than her daughter. And Emily knew it, just as she knew that for her mother, no sacrifice was too muchnot even if it meant Emily was cloistered, wrapped in cotton wool, guarded from any harm the world might bring.
Amelia protected her only as she could, which meant Emily knew little beyond home, lessons, the occasional outdoor trip, or a holiday with her parents. Shed never been to camp, never socialised with classmates outside of school, and had no real friendsjust the children of her mothers approved acquaintances. Emily found them alien and didnt want to forge friendships, not out of spite but simply because Louisa would always jab with stinging little nicknames, and Samuel turned out to be a little terror, beheading Emilys favourite teddy bear and saying, Serves him right! for inexplicable reasons understood only to him.
Pity their personalities didnt match! Wouldve made a lovely couple! Samuels mother would sigh, trying to console Emily, who was not taken in by the forced cheer.
Amelia! Stop stifling your child! Granny would interject while Emily huddled close for comfort. Let her choose for herself! Take away her choice now, and shell feel broken forever!
Oh, Margaret, do spare me! Emilys just a little girl! What choices can she make? I am responsible. Thats my duty.
Make sure its not a permanent state. Children arent property.
Why did Emily remember this so vividly? She didnt know, but it was etched on her memory. Ever since, whenever her mother tried to press too hard, Emily would say, Mum! Im not your possession!
This, of course, always set Amelias teeth on edge.
Stop repeating other peoples words! Have a mind of your own!
I do! Emily would retort, and the house would fall silent yet again.
Emily had to stop talking to Granny after the Big Quarrel. Who was right was anybodys guess. Granny herself had, without knowing the full story, hurled cruel words at Amelia, blaming her for her misfortune.
And you, Ameliayou carried on with all your whims when you knew about your condition! Fancy soul, nonsense! You should have thought of others!
Amelia tormented Emily and her father with fits and tears while carrying her second child. She could wake the house in the dead of night to wail about their lack of sympathy, though none of them quite understood what she needed. All tiptoed around her, but in the end, she lost the baby. There was nothing to be done about the doctors mistake, and nobody pressed the issue. Amelia blamed the whole world, and only Margaret spoke her mind.
If youre going to try again, Amelia, get a proper specialist! Why didnt you ask me? Too proud or just silly? You always do everything your own way, and here we are! Ive lost a much longed-for grandchild as well. You are the mother and wife heredo your part! Youve a daughter, and if you try, perhaps therell be another.
The confrontation left Margaret hospitalised, and Amelia never forgave her.
Emilys father tried to mend fences, but soon realised you couldnt out-argue two wilful women. He gave up and let the tempers cool. It took a long time. Emily missed Granny terribly but didnt dare upset her mother any further. Amelia clung to Emily all the tighter, surviving solely by her daughters side.
Once, nervously, Emily asked, Mum, why didnt you try again? You wanted a son so much. Amelias look made it clear that the subject was closed for good.
Granny remained the only person Emily could trust with her secrets, but she had moved to Brighton in her own act of peacemaking. Its for the best, darling. Everyone will be calmer. Emilys father now visited twice a year, and Amelia let that pass without argumentbut flatly refused to let Emily go too. I dont want you turned against me!
Emily was dissatisfied, but she pitied her mother, loved her father, and did all she could to keep them happy.
She kept Grannys photo tucked in her favourite book and, when no one was looking, would pull it out to gaze at the image. The art of the photographer astonished her: Granny looked so small, and yet the treasured family heirloomher noseseemed, in the reflection, to make Emily burst into tears.
The Nose. The legendary, absurdly grand Clarke nose.
To Emily, it was simply enormous. There was nothing beautiful about that feature.
Its positively massive! Louisa, whom Emily hadnt seen in ten years, squealed with glee, even reaching out to touch the tip of Emilys nose. Sorry, but its hilarious! A living Pinocchio! How do you even snog with it? Oh! Emily! You havent? Never?! What, not ever? Oh my lord, youre blushing! Youre one of a kind! Your age and never had a boyfriend? Crikey!
Emily was amazed she didnt yank half those perfectly styled curls off Louisas head right then.
Who was she to say such things to Emily? Not a friend, not remotely closethe girl now lived in Spain and only visited rarely. This meeting was arranged last minute by Amelia against Emilys wish.
Darling, you havent seen each other in ages!
“And it could have stayed that way. Why, Mum?”
“Because you must! Trust meone day youll thank me!
Of course, Emily mentally thanked her mother for the meeting in the most proper language her mind could manage. But the decision she made after meeting Louisa was perhaps her first truly adult act.
Ill have plastic surgery!
No! Amelia stared in horror at her daughters set face. I wont let you! Why?
Its no use, Mum. Dad already said yes. My minds made up.
You wouldnt dare Her whisper was so soft, Emily barely heard it.
The rest of the conversation ended with Amelia bursting into tears and leaving the room. She paced back and forth, seeking an answer. It came near midnight, so obvious in its simplicity she skipped a beat before rushing to her husband, asking for Margarets number.
Emily flew to Brighton the very next day.
Amelia took her to the airport herself, hugging her fiercely and whispering, We do so many foolish things, my darling! We lose so much where we could find so much Dont repeat my mistakes. And rememberIm waiting for you and love you more than anything in this world. Even if it seems otherwise, rememberI love you more than life itself.
Emily could only nod and board her flight. Granny was waiting. That was all that mattered.
Margaret greeted her with such warmth that it was days before they finally talked properly, in full sentences, not just noises and exclamations.
Emily, whats behind your mothers sudden leap in wisdom?
I dont know. Maybe because Ive decided to get my nose done.
Why? Youre beautiful! Just a dab of makeup, and youre perfect.
Granny! Not you as well! I look like Pinocchio!
Who ever told you such rubbish?
Some people
Emily bit her lip to keep from crying, thinking of elegant, immaculate Louisa. Blokes would fall over themselves for her, whereas Emilys nose left her with nothing.
People who insult appearance openly are not people, darling. Theyre mishaps God forgot to fix before setting loose. No one is perfect. If you find a woman wholly content with herself, Guinness World Records will have to close shop!
Maybe I should applyfor the nose at least! Id win hands down!
Wait! Margaret rose, regal in her neat bob, and swept into the next room, returning with a thick velvet-bound photo album.
“Here!”
Whats this?
These are the people whose heirloom nose never kept them from happiness. Your ancestors. Not all, of coursemany photographs were lost. You wont find pictures of my cousins who perished in London during the Blitz. One managed to save her daughter, handing over all her jewellery to a neighbour who hid the child, then returned most of the keepsakes so the child would have something from her family. You remember Aunt Lily? That tiny girl was she. An amazing woman and astounding surgeon. She always asked for a custom theatre mask so her nose wouldnt get in the way. Here, look!
A tall woman in a vintage bathing suit laughed in the spray, holding down a wide-brimmed hat. The dashing chap beside her could have graced any magazine. Is that Uncle George?
Thats himyoung, dashing, full of life! Lily was truly happy with him as long as it lasted!
But Granny, he was ill, wasnt he?
Yes. She left work to nurse him, fed him, changed his clothes, happy for every minute he was alive. Letting him go was impossible, even after he passed. She followed just six months later. Always said it was a pity not on the same day.
What a life
“Lily was only one example. We never changed our surnames, hoping to keep Grandpas memory. The nose comes from him and his brother, founders of our family line. None of the girls ever complained. All found happiness, married whom they wished, had children and grandchildren. That is no small thing.”
Margaret stood again, fetched a small, ornate trinket box. “Its time, I think. Here, Emily. Lily left this for you. Each girl received a keepsake, to remember those we should not forget.”
The earrings Emily fished out were so lovely her breath caught and her fingers fumbled, just as when she saw James.
Your great-great-uncle made these. He was a remarkable jewellersaw beauty where others couldnt. Loved nature, which inspired him.
Theyre lilies! For Lily?
Yes. Made for her, then passed from daughter to daughter. Now yours.
Granny! A true family heirloom!
As is your nose, my dear! Imagine if I decided this work of art was silly, melted it, and had some modern trinket madesoulless, without history? Unthinkable!
Emily clutched the earrings tight and shook her head. Thats wrong!
So dont anger God by telling him he erred when creating you. Everything given to you is just as it should be. Now, tell mewho is this boy whos set your world spinning? Whats he like? Whats his family?
Granny! How do you know?! Emily blushed crimson.
There are some mysteries left! Margaret laughed. Or do you imagine I was never young?
They talked deep into the night. Emilys heart lightened, able to talk at last, ready for the competition ahead, unafraid of the prickly fear that lately plagued her. Now she had someone she could entrust with her most precious fears.
The next morning Emily found Granny packing.
“Where are you off to?”
Time to gather stones, Emily. Ive made plenty of mistakes. The greatest haunts me still. I allowed something to break that should never have broken. I must see your mother.
Margarets determination was formidable. Emily didnt argueshe helped pack and called a taxi to the station.
Later, curled up with Winston, Emily listened to the murmured conversation in the kitchen. She longed to go sit between them, hold their hands, ask if theyd found peace at last But she knew better. The beginning of happiness is always fragilebest not to scare it off. Its as delicate as a jewellers touch.
A year later, Amelia, cradling her belly, would slowly rise as the makeup artist finished, adjust the lily earring in her daughters ear, fasten Emilys veil, and ask:
Well, are you ready?
One second! Just need to powder the family heirloom! Emily would turn to the mirror.
Looking herself over, shed nod, remembering when she first asked James if he liked her looks.
Of course! Youre perfect, Emily! Why do you ask?
His genuine confusion would make Emily close her eyes with happiness.
A soft smile, a glimmer beneath fluttering lashes, slim arms slipping around the neck of the wild-haired, tall musician, just after winning the international competition.
No reason, love. No reason at allJustsome things are worth treasuring, thats all.
Outside, the Clarke house rang with the clatter of voices and mismatched laughter drifting in from the garden, where Granny Margaret was holding court beneath the rosesfamily gathering, two generations bridged by a new peace, and the sunlight dancing on Amelias shining hair. In the hallway, Winston, plumper than ever, flicked his tail and padded imperiously down the stairs, a velvet rose cushion balanced between his jawsEmilys latest creation, destined as a truce gift for Granny.
Emily took one last breath, heart pounding, and stepped through the doorway on her fathers arm, past the open album on the tablefaces with familiar noses winking at her in sepia and gold. The weight of the lilies at her ears and the warmth of her mothers embrace made her taller, braver. Each step carried her, not away from the familys legacy, but into ither own melodies waiting to be written.
As she caught Jamess gaze across a sea of faces, the uncertain girl shed been fell silent within. In its place stood Emily: heirloom-bearer, dream-chaser, loved not despite who she was, but wholly because of it. And as she moved forwardnose first, heart wideshe knew she wanted nothing less than to give it all, unabridged, to the world that finally felt like hers.
