Without me youd never get anywhere, whispered the voice, and the words floated like a ribbon through a midnight street in London.
Emily, business has been a bit slow lately, said Lucy, rubbing her nose as she leaned back in the chair of a tiny café on Camden High Street. Do you think I quit the office for nothing?
Just go back, Lucy replied, stirring her cappuccino with a lazy smile. Theyll welcome you with open arms.
Emily rolled her eyes, chuckling.
No, Id rather be on my own than forever under the bosss thumb. I just need a proper breakthrough.
For the past six months she had poured every ounce of energy into her photography venture. She built a portfolio, launched a Instagram page, and posted new shots weekly. Clients trickled in, but the flow was erraticone week a flurry of shoots, the next a hollow silence where only the wind rattled her pockets. Emily knew she needed time, patience and endless hustle.
Lucy worked as a sales adviser in a large electronics store in Oxford Street. Chatty, with a quick grin and the knack for turning any chat into a story, she easily clicked with shoppers. When conversations drifted toward birthdays or family gatherings, she would casually drop that she knew a photographer. A couple of times that led to tiny jobs for Emilynothing grand, but enough to keep the lights on.
Remember that couple who came in last Thursday? Lucy said, sipping her coffee and squinting. I sent them your way for a childrens shoot.
Oh, right, Emily nodded. Thanks, really. Theyre sweet, the little boys a charm.
Dont mention it, Lucy waved a hand. But, honestly, you couldve handed me a cut of the fee.
Emily froze, the cup halfway to her lips.
What?
Its only fair, Lucy shrugged. I bring the clients, you take the pictures. That makes us partners, doesnt it?
Emily stared at her friend for a heartbeat, wondering if she was joking, then burst out laughing.
You scare me sometimes with your jokes.
Just thinking aloud, Lucy grinned.
The conversation drifted to TV series, mutual acquaintances, weekend plans. Emily let the odd remark slip away; surely Lucy had only misspoken.
Months turned into a steady stream of shoots. Emily captured families in HydePark, birthday parties in indoor play zones, corporate headshots for CVs. She posted notices on local forums, struck deals with event organisers, and asked clients for testimonials. The client list grew slowly but surely.
Lucy kept reminding her of her contribution. Occasionally shed say, Without me youd still be looking for work, or, with feigned hurt, Ive sent you so many people and you never really thanked me. Emily brushed it off. Lucy liked to embellish her rolejust a quirk of her personality. Sure, a few customers had come from Lucys suggestions, but Emily could have made it on her own.
One rainy afternoon Emily dropped by Lucys flat. Lucy looked pale, dark circles under her eyes. Over tea she blurted:
Thats it. I cant go on.
Whats happened? Emily asked, lifting her head from the laptop where she was editing.
Im quitting, Lucy whispered, rubbing her face with her palms. Im fed up with the shop. The customers never smile, the manager is a tyrant, the hours are insane. Im done.
Really? What will you do now?
I dont know. Rest a bit, think. Maybe find something better. I might apply for an office job or even change careers entirely.
Bold move, Emily said, nodding. Good luck, then.
In the weeks after Lucy left, she drifted through a lazy routine. She met friends for brunch, wandered the markets, posted on Instagram with captions like Wellearned break and Finally living for myself. She never uploaded a CV, never went to an interview. When Emily asked about job hunting, Lucy gave vague answers: Just looking, nothing exciting yet, no rush.
A month later Lucys tone shifted. She started complaining.
Those blasted loans, she muttered, tapping her phone. The banks called three times already about the arrears.
Why not take a temporary gig while you search for something decent? Emily suggested gently. Itll keep the bills at bay.
Theres nothing decent, Lucy snarled. Either they pay pennies or demand a PhD. I wont settle for anything less; I have experience, qualifications.
Emily stayed silent. Arguing would have been pointless; Lucy would find a new excuse. She seemed to be waiting for a miracleeither a perfect vacancy to fall from the sky or money to appear on its own.
Emilys work was buzzing. Shed just wrapped a lavish wedding at a country manor. The couple were polite and grateful, the bride had a detailed shot list, the groom encouraged every creative idea. The day unfolded from preparation to ceremony to reception. Exhausted but thrilled, Emily returned home, spent three days polishing the images, and even edited a short highlight reel. The payment covered her expenses for the next month with room to spare.
That evening her phone buzzed. It was Lucy.
Hey, Lucys voice sounded businesslike. We need to talk.
What about?
You shot a wedding last week, right?
Yes, I did. Whats up?
That couple I sent you? The bride bought a TV from our store about five months ago. I mentioned you to her then.
Emily frowned. The bride had found her through Instagram, after months of scrolling portfolios.
Lucy, she found me on social media.
So? Lucy snapped, irritated. I told her about you, she remembered and booked you. That makes me a partner. Hand over tenpounds.
Emilys mouth fell open.
Youre joking?
Not a joke. I helped you, now I want my share.
Lucy, are you serious? Emily tried to keep her calm. You only mentioned my name a few times months ago. That doesnt make you a business partner.
It does, Lucy insisted. Without my referral shed have hired someone else.
Even without it shed have found another photographer. My income comes from my skill, my effort. You have nothing to do with that.
So now Im irrelevant? When you were short of clients you complained to me. When I sent you people you were pleased. And now that moneys flowing, Im useless?
This is nonsense, Emily said, rubbing her temples. I get you have financial worries, but thats no excuse to demand money for a referral. You quit your job, youre not hunting for work, yet you try to squeeze cash from me.
A true friend would help, Lucys tone turned hurtful. Im not asking you to support me. I just want what I think Ive earned.
You havent earned anything, Emily shot back. Mentioning my name a couple of times isnt work. Its just friendly chatter, not a paid contribution.
Greedy, huh? Lucy laughed bitterly. Thought you were different. Youre just like everyone elsetake the cash and forget who helped you.
Helped? Emily felt a surge of anger. You told a few people I know a photographer. Thats the most you did. I pour my evenings into learning, buying gear, editing until three in the morning. What were you doing? Watching soaps on the sofa.
Think youre some selfmade star? All on your own? Lucy hissed. Without me youd achieve nothing.
You know what, Lucy? Emily exhaled, weary. Ive had enough of this. Sort out your loans yourself, find a job, act like an adult. Dont demand what isnt yours.
Youre not my friend any more, Lucy shouted, slamming the call.
Emily sat, phone still in her hand, trying to process the absurdity. Demanding money for a casual namedrop? Was that extortion, manipulation, or sheer audacity?
She opened her messenger, blocked Lucy. Then she did the same on Instagram, added the number to her ignore list. No explanations, no goodbyesjust a clean cut.
Emily leaned back on the sofa, closed her eyes. How long had she endured those insinuations, those strange claims of joint earnings? How many toxic remarks had she brushed aside, rationalising them as quirks? The red flags had fluttered from the start; she should have seen them.
True friends never ask for payment for a favour. They dont weaponise guilt to extract cash. They celebrate your triumphs, stand by you in setbacks, and dont tally friendship in pounds.
Emily opened her eyes, stared at the untouched photo on her laptop screen, and knew she had to keep moving forwardgrow her business, seek new clients, hone her craft. Most of all, she resolved to surround herself with people who measured friendship in kindness, not in money.
