The times never change, only the people do.
“Tansy, have you got a shred of decency left?!” Olive asked her younger sister, her voice shaking.
“Livvy, you’re the last person who should talk about decency! Mum and I have done our bit—now it’s your turn. Take her in with your Ronnie, see what it’s like living with an old woman in your flat. We’ve had enough!” The last words Tansy spat out with venom before slamming the phone down.
Olive listened to the dial tone, stunned. After a pause, she whispered, “What a rotten piece of work…”
Olive and Tansy were sisters, born to Gregory and Helen, who’d married young as students. A year after the wedding, their first child, Olive, arrived. Money was tight, but they managed.
Years later, Gregory was given a two-bedroom flat by the company he worked for, and life eased up. Helen took extra tutoring jobs, earning well enough. When Olive turned ten, baby Tansy came along.
From the start, Tansy was the golden child. Every whim indulged, every tantrum rewarded. She learned fast—cry loud enough, and the world bent to her will.
“Olive, you’re older—give it to her!” Helen scolded.
“But Mum, I bought that notebook myself! She doesn’t even need it!”
“I waaaant it!” Tansy wailed, and within seconds, the notebook was hers.
She refused to read, refused speech therapy—her way was the only way. Any resistance sparked screaming fits.
When Olive was sixteen and Tansy six, tragedy struck. Gregory collapsed at work—heart failure. The family was devastated. Helen, especially, shattered. She withdrew, barely noticing Olive, pouring all her love into Tansy, who looked just like him.
“Mum, my jeans are falling apart, and you keep buying Tansy dresses! She’s got a wardrobe full already!”
“Oh, Olive, don’t start! You’re grown—soon you’ll be working, buying your own things. Tansy’s lost her father so young! How he doted on her…” Helen wiped away a tear.
Olive left for uni in another city.
“I thought I’d miss you, Liv, but honestly? It’s a blessing. I’m redoing Tansy’s room—fit for a princess!”
“You’re throwing out my bed? I was planning to visit!”
“Of course I am! That old thing? You can sleep on the camp bed in the kitchen. Tansy needs her own space—she’s got school ahead!”
Helen took out loans for the renovation, scrimping on everything, even turning Olive down for money.
“You’re grown—work for it!”
Olive did. She met Ronnie, they married, bought a flat.
“Liv, I’d help with the mortgage, but Tansy’s tutoring costs a fortune!”
“She doesn’t need tutors! I never had them!”
“Times are different! She’s going to study translation—probably have to pay for it. You’ll manage.”
Olive stopped arguing. Tansy ruled the roost now.
When Olive had her first son, she begged Helen for help.
“I can’t leave Tansy—she’s revising for exams!”
“I had exams too, Mum! Right after Dad died!”
“That was then. Tansy deserves better.”
Tansy graduated, married, and moved in with Helen. Two years later, her son Nicky was born. Helen adored him. He wanted? He got.
“Mum, did you quit your job?” Olive asked once.
“Yes. Nicky’s at a grammar school—someone’s got to take him. It’s a bus ride away.”
“That’s mad! He could just go local!”
“No! He’s gifted! Our school’s not good enough!”
Years passed. Nicky grew. Tansy and her husband bought a new flat—and left. The shock broke Helen’s heart. A stroke followed.
“Tansy, you need to take Mum in or stay with her,” Olive urged.
“Are you mad? We’ve done a full refurb! Do you know how much that cost?!”
“So you’re leaving her alone?!”
“Not alone—take her yourself! Our turn’s over. Yours now.”
Helen came home to silence. Tansy was gone—off to Turkey.
Olive and Ronnie took her in. Slowly, Helen understood.
“Livvy, I’m so sorry. I never saw you. And look at you—you’ve done so well. I don’t deserve you.”
“Stop that, Mum. It’s over. Why not take on a few pupils? You’re brilliant at it.”
“Won’t I be in the way?”
“Don’t be silly. We’re glad you’re here.”
Weeks later, Tansy called.
“Liv, is Mum staying with you for good?”
“Yes. She’s recovering, even tutoring again—”
“Great. I’ll rent out her flat then. Nicky’s tutors cost a fortune these days—”
“Tansy—” The line went dead.
