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Mary felt ill even before she made it off the platform.
She barely managed to reach a nearby bin and now stood doubled over it, feeling her expensive coat brush against its cold, grimy metal, the winter air biting at her cheeks.
Miss, you alright? came a gentle, local accent behind her.
Leave me please, she muttered.
Mary straightened herself. Around her, people drifted by in their heavy coats, dragging battered suitcases and plastic bags brimming with potatoes. The air was thick with the smell of diesel, cheap cigarettes, and that unique mustiness of small English towns that always gave Mary a headache.
She loathed this town. Hated it with the pure, sterile hatred of someone who had run away fifteen years ago and tried everything to forget the way back.
Her phone buzzed.
Dad.
Mary, where are you? Ive got the car, here to pick you up.
Ill take a taxi, she cut him off. No need to meet me. Just give me the address of the hospital.
Mums not at the hospital. They sent her home yesterday. Her blood pressure dropped, but they said shes alright to recover at home. Ill just swing by and
At home? Marys jaw tightened. So Ive come all this way for nothing?
Mary, calm down, love. Your mums been waiting ages for you. Shes baked some pasties.
Pasties? Oh, for heavens sake!
She hung up.
***
The house where Mary had grown up seemed even smaller than she remembered.
Mary stood in the hallway, staring at the battered front door, padded with fake leather. The neighbours cat was already purring and weaving round her legs, leaving clumps of ginger fur on her boots. The air smelled of cabbage soup, cats, and something sweet. It always smelled like that. Always.
She entered without knocking.
Mum was in the kitchen. Small, grey-haired, wrapped in an old housecoat. A nightie peeked out underneath.
When she saw her daughter, Mums face lit up, both with joy and an odd guilt that made Mary flinch.
Mary, darling! I thought youd be here tonight
I asked you not to lie. Do you realise I nearly lost my contract? I spent all night on a train just to see you in intensive care, and you youre baking pasties?
Mums hands dropped to her lap.
Im sorry, love. I didnt want to worry you. It was only my blood pressure, not a big deal. But I missed you
So you lied, Mary said, kicking off her boots and sending them flying. Alright. Wheres your blood pressure monitor? Lets check you, and then Im off to a hotel. Im not sleeping here tonight.
Please, darling, stay
Mum, your loo leaks, the radiators barely work, and the neighbours swear so much the walls shake. I cant stay here. Seriously.
She walked into the kitchen and sat down. On the table, a plate of golden, still-warm pasties. Mary didnt look at them.
Pass me the monitor.
Mum fetched the old-fashioned, manual one with a pump.
Whats this? Havent you got money for a proper one? I sent you some.
I put it aside in the savings account for you. Just in case you ever need it.
Oh, for goodness sake
Mary pumped the bulb. The numbers swam before her eyes.
One sixty over ninety. Are you eating salt with a spoon or what?
Only a little
Never mind. Tomorrow Ill buy you proper tablets. And a proper monitor. Im exhausted, anyway. Where can I sleep?
Mum bustled off to make up a bed. Mary sat at the kitchen table, staring out at the grey terraces, longing for only one thing: not to get stuck, and to be gone by tomorrow.
***
Mary hardly slept that night.
The sofa was too short, its springs digging into her back. Next door, the neighbours were screaming; a row broke out, then a fight. She heard a womans screech and a man cursing at the top of his voice.
She lay awake, staring at the ceiling. A crack zigzagged across itone she remembered from childhood. Back then, it looked like lightning. Now it just reminded her that the house was falling apart.
Mary finally drifted off just before dawn. She dreamt she was little again, and she and Mum were at the market, Mum buying her a jam doughnut, hot and dusted with sugar. Mary was so happy.
She woke sobbing.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she couldnt stop them. She lay there, hugging the sheet, crying as quietly as she could.
Next door, the flat was quiet. Only the old clock tickedthe very one Mum had threatened to throw out a hundred times.
Mary? Mums voice came from the door. Are you awake?
I am, croaked Mary.
Theres someone here to see you.
Who?
Some girl. Says her names Emily. Do you remember her?
Mary sat up. Emily? Which Emily?
She put on her dressing gown and went out.
Standing there was Emily, Marys best friend from schoolthe same Emily shed left without a word when she moved to London.
Emily had barely changed. Same fair hair in a ponytail, same dimples. Only her eyes were dull and tired.
Alright, said Emily. Your mum told me you were back. Thought Id pop inhas it really been fifteen years?
Mary felt an awkward urge to make a sharp commentHow dyou find me? or Im busy, actuallybut realised she couldnt.
Come in, she said instead.
They ended up in the kitchen. Mum, sensing the atmosphere, went to the neighbours. Emily cradled her mug in her hands.
Im married, she said at last. Got a daughterSophie. Shes seven. Nearly school age.
Congratulations, Mary nodded.
And you? Hows London?
Fine.
Married?
I was.
What happened?
Mary shrugged. She didnt want to say her husband had left for someone else. That the flat, the car, the jobnone of it kept her warm at night. That she was completely alone.
Our personalities clashed, she said.
Emily nodded and sat in silence for a while. Then, suddenly,
But I forgave you
What for? Mary was genuinely surprised.
For leaving without saying goodbye, without even calling. We were like sisters, sharing all our secrets, and thennothing. I cried, got angry then realised you had to do what was right for you. I built my life, you built yours. But look at us now, having tea. Im glad youre here.
Marys eyes stung. She turned to the window.
I was foolish. Forgive me.
Dont be daft, Emily smiled. These things happen.
They talked late into the afternoon. Emily told her about her husband (factory job, drinks but means well), about Sophie (little artist, doodles on every wall), about life. And Mary realised she genuinely cared. She was actually interested.
Come for tea tomorrow, Emily said as she was leaving. Ill make stew. You can meet Sophie.
Im not sure
Pleaseyour mum says youre here till Wednesday. Lets make the most of itrelive the old days.
Mary nodded.
***
The next day, Mary set off to the chemists.
She needed to buy Mums tablets, a new blood pressure monitor, and maybe something else. Walking through town, she realisedthis place wasnt as awful as she remembered. Trees frosted with ice, kids with sledges, grannies perched on benches. Just ordinary life.
There was a queue at the chemists. Mary stood behind a woman in a faded old coat, string bag stuffed with groceries. The woman fidgeted and breathed heavily.
Are you alright? Mary asked.
Ill be fine, love. My hearts playing up. Ill get a tablet and be on my way.
Mary looked at hershe was pale, blue close to her lips, sweating.
Sit down, said Mary. Ill get it for you. What do you need?
Nitroglycerin, pet. Thank you. Youre a sweetheart.
Mary bought the medicine and handed it over. The woman popped the pill, closed her eyes. In a minute she was better.
Thank you, darling. Youre not local, are you?
Yes, I am, Mary said, surprising herself. I was born here.
She left the chemists with a smile.
***
That evening, Mary went to Emilys.
Emily lived in a 60s council block, fifth floor, no lift. Mary climbed the battered staircase, thinking, God, Im not used to this anymore.
But, oddly, it didnt upset her now.
A little girl answered the doorskinny, blonde, with enormous eyes.
Are you Auntie Mary? Mum said youd be coming.
I am Auntie Mary, Mary smiled.
Im Sophie. Come on in. Were having stew tonight.
The flat was cramped but spotless. Old furniture, faded wallpaper, childrens drawings on the walls. The smell of stew and baking made it homely.
Emily fussed over the cooker.
Mary! Come, take your coat off. Were just about to eat. Sophie, fetch the spoons.
They sat down together. Mary ate and felt warmth soak through her. It had been so long since shed had a meal that good, or simply sat with people with no pretence or show.
Draw me something? she asked Sophie.
The girl looked at her solemnly.
Youre pretty. Ill draw you.
Go on then, Mary grinned.
Sophie grabbed her album and pencils and started.
Mary sipped her tea with cherry jam and chatted to Emily.
Do you have children? Sophie blurted, still drawing.
No, Mary replied. It didnt happen.
Why?
Sophie! Emily scolded.
Its alright, Mary smiled. It just worked out that way, love. Not everyone does.
Dont worry, Sophie said in all seriousness. Youre still young. Youve got lots of time.
Mary chuckled.
Thank you, darling.
Sophie handed over the drawing. It was of a woman in a long dress, crowned, surrounded by flowers.
Thats you, Sophie explained. Youre a princess. Only you look sad. Ill draw a sunthen youll be happy.
Marys throat tightened.
Thank you, sweetheart. Ill hang your picture up in my flat in London, I promise.
Promise youll visit again?
I will, Mary promised. And to her surprise, she meant it.
***
She came home to Mum late that night. Mum was waiting up.
How was it, love?
Lovely, Mum. Really lovely.
Mary sat beside her and took her hand, warm and wrinkled, sprinkled with age spots.
Mum Im sorry. For everything.
Hush now, love. Sorry for what?
For for being ashamed. Of you. This town. Myself. I thought I was better for leaving. I wasnt better at all. Just running.
Mum stroked her hair, like she used to.
You didnt run, Mary love. You survived. Back then you either left, or lost yourself here. Im proud you left. Just dont ever forget us entirely.
I wont, Mary whispered. I promise.
***
The next day, Mary was leaving.
Dad gave her a lift to the station. Mum stood on the platform in her old coat, waving.
Mary gazed out the window, a knot twisting in her stomach.
Just remember Dad cleared his throat, Promise youll visit. Were not getting any younger, your mum and me.
Ill come, Dad. Honestly.
She found her seat on the train and checked her phone. There was a message from Emily: Come again soon. Sophie keeps asking when Auntie Marys coming back. She liked you a lot.
Mary smiled and tucked her phone away.
The train rolled out. The grey terraces, garages, frosty fields drifted by. And Mary suddenly realised she didnt have a headache. She didnt feel sick. She wasnt desperate to shut her eyes and pretend it was all a bad dream.
She pulled out Sophies drawinga princess in her crown, flowers, an unfinished sun.
Out the window, the sun was rising above the fieldsbig, red, entirely real.
***
A week later, Mary sent Emily some money. Just a littlefor Sophies drawing paper, art club fees.
Emily protested, but Mary insisted.
And six months later, Mary came back. No warning, no callsjust bought a train ticket and arrived.
The three of them sat around the tableMary, Emily, and Sophieeating stew and talking. And Mary thought, perhaps this is happiness. To simply be needed by someone. For no special reason at all.
