**The Family That Never Was**
The phone shattered the quiet of the early morning in the small flat on the outskirts of Barnsley. Rubbing her eyes, Elizabeth reached for it.
“But Emily’s a doctor!” Her mother’s voice trembled with urgency.
“So?” Elizabeth replied coolly.
“A doctor isn’t just a job—it’s a calling!” her mother declared, as if she had uncovered some great truth.
“Calling or not,” Elizabeth countered, “what’s she to you when you’ve ignored her for twenty-five years?”
“She’s a doctor—she *has* to help!” the woman insisted.
“Obligations are forgiven before they’re repaid,” Elizabeth thought bitterly, but there was no laughter in it. Family wasn’t a thing to joke about, especially when you had no family to speak of. Elizabeth and her daughter Emily had been unwanted—until now. Until Emily, once dismissed as “that stray,” graduated from medical school in London.
Then, suddenly, they remembered. Like shadows creeping out at dusk, relatives emerged—aunts, uncles, even the grandmother who had once turned her back.
“How wonderful—we’ve got our own doctor in the family now!” Aunt Jean cooed, having long forgotten how she’d once waved away her pregnant niece.
“I need my kidneys checked—they’ve been aching,” Uncle Henry chimed in, the same man who had refused to help his sister, muttering, “Should’ve been more careful.”
Even Elizabeth’s mother, who had once shut her out, now called with saccharine concern.
Twenty-three years earlier, Elizabeth had been left alone. Her sweetheart, James, had vanished the moment he learned of her pregnancy. In films, men rejoiced at the sight of two lines on a test—real life was different. She’d met him at the café where she’d worked as a waitress, fresh from Yorkshire with a business diploma and big dreams. Back in her village near York, no one needed her skills—they’d wanted milkmaids. The local vet, a man called Higgins, had eyed her, but Elizabeth had wanted more. She’d fled to London, hoping her uncle Thomas, her mother’s brother, would take her in.
“I’ve just come from the station!” she’d said brightly, handing over a jar of blackberry jam and a bottle of fresh cream.
Her uncle took the gifts but quickly deflated her.
“This isn’t the countryside—there’s no room here. We’ve barely enough for ourselves. Try a hostel; it’s cheap enough.”
Stunned, Elizabeth left. Not even a cup of tea offered. Desperate, she wandered into the first café she saw, spotting a sign: *Dishwasher wanted.* The owner, noticing her distress, offered her the storeroom in exchange for half a caretaker’s wage. Elizabeth took it. Humiliating, but what choice did she have? She scrubbed dishes, saved pennies, and slept among mops.
Then she met James. A courier, he often ate at the café. Handsome, strong-armed, he’d seemed steady. Elizabeth—plain-faced but bright-eyed—had felt wanted for the first time. When he suggested moving in together, she ignored her mother’s warnings and said yes. Love had blinded her. Five months of bliss before she dreamed of weddings, spent her savings on gifts for him. Then came the pregnancy.
James had erupted, shouting that he wasn’t ready, and threw her out. In tears, she called her mother.
“Mum, I’m pregnant. Please, help me?”
“Got yourself in trouble, have you?” her mother had said coldly. “No one in *our* family’s been so careless. Sort yourself out.”
Uncle Thomas refused too. “You’re having a laugh! We’ve our own kids to raise!”
So Elizabeth faced it alone, her belly growing. The café storeroom was taken by another girl now, but the owner, kind-hearted, offered her a place with her grandmother—a spry old woman of eighty-six.
“Look after her, and I’ll only charge you utilities,” she’d said.
Elizabeth wept with gratitude. A new life began. Granny helped with baby Emily, cooked when exhaustion gripped Elizabeth. It was hard. Twice, she begged family for money—Emily had allergic bronchitis, needed medicine. No one lifted a finger. Only the café owner lent her the cash.
Years passed. Granny died, Elizabeth returned to the café, then trained as a clerk. By night, she washed dishes so Emily could have nice things. She scrimped and bought a cramped flat in East London. Men? A closed chapter—love was a fool’s game. Emily grew up, graduated top of her class, and landed a job at a private clinic.
Then the family remembered. Emily, hopeful, wanted to see her grandmother, now living in London. Elizabeth warned her: “Don’t stir trouble!” But Emily went. She returned changed—Granny had called her brilliant, beautiful, insisted they’d *never* been abandoned, just “stars misaligned.” Now, all would be well!
Elizabeth didn’t buy it. She was right. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
“I need a cardiologist!” Uncle Thomas demanded.
“Get me an endocrinologist!” Aunt Jean added.
“Arrange it for free—you’re *family*!” Granny snapped.
Emily, flustered, tried explaining: “It’s a private clinic—I can’t do free consultations!”
“That’s *nonsense*!” Granny hissed before slamming the phone down.
Emily regretted the visit. They’d lived fine without family! But the calls kept coming, so Elizabeth took over. When she stopped answering, relatives stormed the clinic—Uncle Thomas, his wife, Granny, waving sample jars, demanding free tests.
The receptionist rang Emily: “Dr. Carter, your family’s causing a scene!”
“Have them removed,” Emily said firmly. “They won’t listen.”
Security escorted the trio out, their furious texts flooding Emily’s phone. But she exhaled in relief—these weren’t family. Just strangers.
The shame gnawed at her—she was new here. Yet, to her surprise, the board admired her resolve.
“Young, but knows where to draw the line,” they murmured. “She’ll go far.”
The relatives vanished. Elizabeth and Emily carried on, trusting only themselves. Being a doctor was a state of the soul—but souls should only be bared to those who won’t trample them. And to family who only remember you when they need something? Wish them good health. And savings for private care—it doesn’t come cheap.
