**Diary Entry**
The movers arrived with the furniture for the new flat, and their jaws nearly hit the floor when they realised the woman ordering it was none other than a vanished pop star.
“Dave, you see this order?” grumbled Colin, tossing the invoice onto the truck dashboard. “A wardrobe, sofa, two armchairs, and a tableand no lift, just five flights of stairs! For what were getting paid, they shouldve hired someone else!”
“Ah, quit moaning,” Dave replied calmly, eyes fixed on the road. “Last job of the day, then home. Sarahs making beef stew.”
“Lucky youmy back wont be thanking me,” Colin sighed, staring at the rows of grey pebbledash flats. “Whats the point of living on the fifth floor? Ground floors where its at.”
“Better view,” Dave chuckled. “No upstairs neighbours stomping about.”
“Yeah, real romantic.” Colin snatched up the invoice. “Whos the client anyway? Some Emily Carter. Address in Wembley, balance due on delivery. Standard stuff.”
The truck turned into a cramped car park, new builds towering beside crumbling old flats. Dave parked near a weathered front door, paint peeling.
“Here we are. Hope the doorways are wide, or thisll be a nightmare.”
They unloaded the trolley, and Colin rang the client.
“Emily? Hi, this is Comfort Movers. Were downstairs with your delivery. Yeah, well wait.”
Minutes later, a woman in her forties appearedjeans, a loose jumper, her dark hair in a messy bun, minimal makeup. She smiled warmly.
“Come in. Fifth floor, top of the stairs.”
They loaded the sofa first, bulky but manageable.
“Wait, let me help,” she offered as they struggled in the narrow hallway.
“No need, love,” Dave waved her off. “Weve got it.”
“Trust me, the turns here are tricky,” she insisted, steadying a corner.
Her voice struck Colin as oddly familiarthat slight drawl, the cadence. He frowned, trying to place it.
By the fifth floor, hed cursed every architect whod ever built a block without a lift. The flat, though, was surprisingly spaciouslight walls, minimal furniture, a piano tucked in the corner.
“You play?” Dave nodded at it as they set the sofa down.
“A bit,” she said vaguely. “Just for myself.”
Colin couldnt shake the feeling he knew her. When they finished, he finally asked, “Sorry, but have we met before? You look familiar.”
She hesitated. “No, first time ordering from you. Must be mistaken.”
Then the radio in the next room played an old hitone that once ruled the charts. A womans voice sang about lost love.
Colins eyes widened. “Emily Starling! Bloody hell, youre Emily Starling!”
Dave nearly dropped a chair. “No way! The Emily Starling? The one who vanished years ago?”
She paled but kept calm. “Youre mistaken. Just Emily Carter, new to the area.”
“Come off it!” Colin laughed. “I know all your songs! Dont Go, Last Rain, Starry Skymy wife adored you! Then you just disappeared!”
Dave jumped in. “Rumours said youd gone abroad. Or joined a convent. Some even thought youd” He cut himself off.
Emily sighed, sinking onto the new sofa. “Alright, youve got me. But please, keep this between us.”
“But why vanish?” Colin pressed. “And why live here?”
She gestured for them to sit. “Tea? Might as well explain.”
Over Earl Grey, she told them: vocal cord damage five years agodoctors gave her a choicesurgery with risks or total rest. No singing, no talking.
“I chose rest. Music was my life. Losing my voice? Unthinkable.”
“But why disappear completely?” Dave asked.
“At first, I planned a hiatus. But I realised I wanted a new life. The industrypressure, fake smiles, compromises. I was exhausted.”
Shed left London, lived quietly in Cornwall for years, then returned under a new name, teaching music anonymously.
“And you know what? Im happier now. No schedules, no paparazzi. Just being me.”
Colin shook his head. “But the fame, the money”
She laughed. “Money goes fastdesigner clothes, PR events. Whats left covers a simple life. No diamonds, no villas. And I dont miss them.”
“And family?” Dave ventured.
“Never had time for that. Always touring, recording. Now? Maybe.” She glanced around. “A real life, not a tabloid one.”
As they left, Colin exhaled. “Never envied celebs much, but now? Makes you think.”
Dave nodded. “Still, shes doing what she loves. Even if its just for her.”
Back in the truck, Colin grinned. “Imaginetwo movers stumbling on a pop legend.”
Dave chuckled. “Only in a cheesy telly drama.”
As they drove off, a light glowed in Emilys fifth-floor flat. Inside, she sat at the pianofingers brushing the keys, composing something new. A song about losing everything to find yourself.
And upstairs, in that old London block, Emily Carteronce Emily Starlingplayed softly, finally free.
