Emily was fifteen when her parents told her they were expecting another child. She stomped her feet and shouted.
“Mum, why do we need another child? Are you and Dad trying to have one just because you’re getting old? Am I not enough?” she fumed, realising she’d now have competition—her parents’ attention and money would no longer be hers alone.
Until now, Mum and Dad had indulged her every whim, but suddenly they were talking about cots, prams, and baby baths. What did she care about prams when she needed new boots?
She wanted to dress well. Emily wasn’t the prettiest girl—broad-shouldered, with sharp features—but she believed stylish clothes would make her attractive. She’d fuss over outfits to hide her flaws and nag her parents, who always gave in. Now a sister would ruin everything.
Little Alice was born. Emily barely glanced at her. Alice was a doll—big blue eyes, golden curls—already toddling after her sister, who shooed her away.
“Mum, take your Alice away. She’s bothering me.”
Years passed. Alice grew into a beauty, while Emily remained plain, unmarried. After school, she worked as a postwoman, delivering mail in their village.
At nineteen, Alice fell in love with Anthony, a trainee visiting their village. He vanished after leaving her pregnant.
“Have the baby,” their mother said. “We’ll help raise him.”
Alice had a son, Jamie. Emily sneered.
“You’ve always been soft, Alice. Love? There’s no such thing. Look at me—I never fell for it. You see life through rose-tinted glasses. Now you’re stuck with this—” she spat a cruel word about Jamie. “Mum and Dad coddle you both.”
Emily spared no pity. She whispered venom when their parents weren’t listening.
“Why keep Jamie? You should’ve left him at the hospital,” she hissed, making Alice cry.
Alice longed to leave, but where could she go? No money, no husband. Then Emily announced she was moving to the city.
“I’m sick of you all. I’ll live alone.”
At thirty, Emily hoped to find a wealthy man. No luck—her looks worked against her. Men fled when she demanded, “What will you give me in return for my love?”
One, George, told her, “You don’t understand love. Until you do, you’ll chase everyone away.”
She scoffed. “What, should I study the Kama Sutra for you?”
“No, Emily. You wouldn’t get it anyway.”
Later, she tried subtler tactics with a man named John, complaining about her family. He warned, “Your parents might leave the house to Alice. She’s close; you’re not.”
Greed stirred. Emily visited home, pretending years of silence never happened.
“Hi. How are you?”
“We’re fine,” Mum said. “Why didn’t you give us your address? We didn’t know where you were.”
“I’m here now,” Emily said, then bluntly, “What’s happening with the house?”
Mum, unsuspecting, said, “We’re fixing it up.”
Dad saw through her. “Planning our funeral already?”
Emily squirmed. “That’s not—”
“We won’t leave Alice and Jamie with nothing,” he said firmly.
Emily visited often after that, bringing Jamie toys or books. Colleagues advised, “Bring Alice and Jamie to the city. You’ll get a council flat.”
She convinced her family. Soon, she secured a flat—easier for construction workers then.
At first, Emily bossed Alice around, then realised her sister would do anything in gratitude. She exploited it, criticising in private but playing the saint in public.
“Look how I’ve taken them in,” she’d say. Neighbours admired her. Alice bore it silently, grateful for city schools and hospitals.
Then fate smiled. At a clinic, Alice met Dr. Oliver, who proposed after two visits. “Marry me. I know you’re the one.”
Soon, Alice and Jamie moved in with him. Oliver adopted Jamie, and they had a daughter later. They bought a house, leaving Emily alone.
Years passed. Their parents died, dividing the cottage. Then Emily had a stroke.
Alice and Oliver brought her home. Alice bathed, fed, and cared for her. When Emily saw her reflection—a frail, lopsided face—she wept.
“They could’ve dumped me in a care home,” she thought. “If it were Alice, I would have.”
She cried secretly, ashamed. Perhaps her stone heart was softening.
Now Emily lives with them, walking with a cane, speaking haltingly. At Easter, they visited their parents’ graves.
Emily wept. Too late for apologies, but better than never.
Perhaps kindness, however delayed, can still mend a hardened soul.
