13April2025
Dear diary,
The phone rang just as I was trying to finish a report. My sister, Sarah Whitfield, sounded weary, her voice dripping with the usual pleading tone she adopts whenever she needs a quid.
Emily, this is the last time, please? Were family, arent we? she begged, her words tumbling out like a broken faucet.
I sighed. Sarah, Ive already helped you twice this month, I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose. You still havent paid back the £150 you borrowed last time.
Come on, Im looking after Lily for you! she shot back, a hint of indignation flashing through the line. I pick her up from nursery, I take her to the park. Doesnt that count for anything?
I glanced out the office window; a light drizzle was turning the pavement into a dull mirror.
Over the past two months youve sat with Lily on two occasions, I replied evenly. And thats it. Ive spent so much on you that hiring a nanny wouldve been cheaper.
Dont be stingy, Emily! Sarahs voice grew even more plaintive. Help me, will you? I promise to repay you next week. Something urgent has come up
I closed my eyes. This was the same song shed sung a month ago, and the month before that. Sarah always knew how to tug at the right heartstrings, to press the exact sore spot.
Please, just this once more, she continued. Were family, after all.
I opened the banking app on my phone and transferred the requested sum. The £150 vanished from my account just as it always had.
Money sent, I said shortly. But this really is the last time, Sarah. Its high time you learned to stand on your own two feet.
Thanks, love you loads! she chirped before slamming the handset.
I set the phone down, poured a mug of tea, and let the steam blur the kitchen tiles. I sank into a chair, cupping the warm mug between my palms.
It had all started when Sarah and I moved from our hometown of Nottingham to London for study and then work. Our bond, once tight, had frayed. Sarah drifted from one fleeting job to another, while I longed for stability and a family of my own.
I had a familythough it was shortlived. When my son, Jack, was three, my husband left with a younger colleague, leaving me with a mortgage that stretched over two decades. Now Jack is five, attending a local playgroup, while I scrape together a modest childsupport payment and work as a copywriter at an advertising agency.
Sometimes Id beg Sarah to watch Jack, but lately every call turned into another plea for cash, accompanied by tearfilled stories of how hard life had become for her.
Two weeks passed without a word from Sarah. No calls, no messagesshed vanished into the London bustle, and the money she owed remained unpaid.
I didnt call first. A dull ache settled beneath my ribs, a steady reminder each time I thought of her. On Wednesday, a clients endless requests held me up in the office, and I realized I had to pick Jack up soon.
Hello, Sarah? I panted into the receiver. Could you collect Jack from the playgroup? Im stuck here.
The background was loudmusic, laughter, the clatter of a bar. It was obvious she was somewhere with friends.
I cant, she snapped. Ive got my own things to do. Im swamped.
Sarah, you promised to help with Jack! Ive lent you money, and now you cant even spare a few minutes? I raised my voice, frustration spilling over.
Im busy, what do you want me to do? I have plans tonight! she snapped back, then the line went dead.
I stood alone in the empty office, stuck. I couldnt ask for time off; Id just taken sick leave when Jack fell ill. My boss would never forgive another absence.
Desperately I scrolled through contacts. My mother lived far away in Sheffield; friends were tied up with work or their own children. Then my eye landed on the name Claire Bennettthe exsisterinlaw of my former husband.
My finger hovered over her number. We hadnt spoken since the divorce a year ago, but I had no other choice.
Claire, hi, I began when she answered. Sorry to bother you. Im in a bind
Without a moments hesitation she replied, Ill pick him up! Same playgroup, right?
Yes, I exhaled, relief flooding me. Thank you ever so much.
Its no trouble. Jacks my nephew, after all.
Within forty minutes I received a photo: Jack grinning in the backseat of Claires car, giving a thumbsup. On our way. All good, she texted.
I wrapped up the presentation in record time and raced to Claires flat. She lived in a cosy twobedroom flat, Scandinavianstyled with pale wood, white walls, and a few thriving plants on the windowsill.
Mum! Jack shouted as he burst into the hallway, wrapping his arms around my legs. Aunt Claire helped me make a pinecone hedgehog for the playgroup!
Come in, have a cup of tea, Claire said, clearing away modelling clay and coloured paper from the table.
While Jack tinkered with his construction set, Claire and I sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea.
How did you end up with no one to look after Jack? she asked gently.
I recounted the saga with Sarah, laying bare the bitterness and disappointment.
Claire thought for a moment. I work from home, flexible hours. If you ever need help again, just ring. Jack is my nephew; I love him.
I stared at her, astonished. After the divorce Id expected the exfamily to turn away, yet here was unexpected support from a place Id never imagined.
Thank you, truly, I said, my voice thick with gratitude. I cant tell you how much this means.
We left for home as the streetlights flickered on. Jack chattered nonstop about his pinecone masterpiece and the coin tricks Aunt Claire showed him.
Since then Claire and I have kept in touch regularly. She often calls, offering to look after Jack on weekends.
Let me take Jack Saturday. We could go to the puppet theatre, then have icecream. Youve earned a break, shed say.
A few weeks later Sarahs name flashed on my screen.
Emily, listen, she blurted without preamble. I need cash, urgently. Somethings come up
I was on the sofa, Jack drawing princesses with coloured pencils.
Sorry, thats it, I replied calmly. My charity work ends here. No more money. You can keep the debt, but dont expect more.
What?! Sarah shrieked. I help you with Jack! If you dont give me money I wont look after him at all!
You let me down the last time I truly needed you, I said evenly. I havent asked you to watch Jack for over a month, and Ive managed fine. Your help is no longer required, and I wont fund it.
Sarahs voice rose in angry protest. I hung up and blocked the number.
Jack looked up from his drawing.
Mum, why was Aunt Sarah shouting? he asked.
Adults sometimes argue, love, I explained softly. Its nothing to worry about.
My phone buzzed with a message from Claire.
Lets meet at the new kids café this weekend. My friend recommended it. While Jack plays, we can plan his birthday. Hes my only nephew, I cant let him down.
I replied enthusiastically, Sounds perfect! What time?
Watching Jack colour another princess, I reflected on how strange life can be. The strongest bonds sometimes form with those you never expected, while those you count on most can let you down when you need them most. The biggest lesson Ive learned is this: I will no longer tolerate being treated like a convenience. I have a son, a job, and now genuine support from someone who asks for nothing in return. That, I think, is enough for happiness.
