28October2025
Another night of endless phone calls and old ghosts. Im sitting in my new flat on the outskirts of London, staring at the empty walls that somehow feel crowded with memories.
Twobed flat for us? No way! I heard my mother shout on the line. Ill put the lease in Lucys name and move in with you. Youre living alone anyway, Nora said, never bothering to ask what I actually wanted.
Whose deepvoiced bloke is that on the line? My own voice sounded sharp, as if I were thirteen again, not the thirtytwoyearold I am.
Just TV, Mum. What do you need? I tried to end the conversation quickly.
We need to talk. Seriously, my mother insisted, then hung up. Typical Mum she points out problems but never asks how I feel.
Arthur! I yelled, hurling my phone onto the sofa.
Whats happened? Arthur came out of the kitchen, two mugs of tea in his hands.
My mothers coming tonight.
Do you want me to stay?
No, thanks. Ill sort it out on my own.
—
**Echoes from the past**
Memories are like old photo albums some pictures fade, but the core images stay. I was eleven when Mum and Dad split. Lucy was still playing with dolls while I had already learned to read the subtext between adults words.
I cant do this any longer, Margaret, Dad once said. It isnt a marriage any more; its just a shadow of one.
And the children? Mums voice cracked like breaking glass.
After the divorce, Dad quietly packed his things: his favourite armchair, the chipped teacup, even the books that had been his companions. Piece by piece, his life disappeared.
I became the bridge between two worlds Mums sternness and Dads calm. Lucy simply decided that Dad was a traitor and Mum a martyr.
—
**Adult life**
I moved to London for university, studying hard and working harder, determined to own a place of my own one day. Lucy took a few courses, became a nail technician, and married almost straight away.
Dad passed away, leaving only fond memories and a hollow space.
Mum now only contacts me to ask for money or to complain:
Lucys pregnant, can you help her? Tom earns barely enough, and the salon doesnt even give her a proper contract
I sighed, exhausted.
She knew what she was signing up for. That was her choice.
—
**My own nest**
Years later I finally bought my dream flat all mine. I sweated and cried to make it happen.
What a lovely flat, Mum said, looking around. Lucy could really use somewhere like this instead of a student hall with a baby And youre sitting here alone in this palace. Its not fair.
Because Lucy always thought she was entitled to something. I earned this.
Then, out of the blue, Mum turned up months later with a grin:
Ive decided the flat goes to Lucy. Ill move in with you.
No, I snapped. This is my flat.
What do you mean no? Ive already decided!
Then live with Lucy. This isnt a hotel.
Youre as cold as your father!
Thanks. He loved me and never set conditions.
The door slammed. Silence settled, and with it a strange relief.
My phone buzzed with a new message:
How did it go?
I smiled and typed back:
Come over. Ill show you how to make tiramisu.
