Do you remember, Emily
Hed gotten used to peeking into their window, since their flat was on the ground floor. At first, they wished for a higher floor, but, eventually, they settled in. Nobody was happier than Grandma she didnt have to climb so many stairs now. Every Saturday, Mary Thompson, Emilys grandma, would bake pies, pancakes, or something else delectable, but always fragrant and inviting.
The pleasant aroma would waft out the open kitchen window, teasing the boys playing football outside. Tom would confidently approach their window, not the one in the kitchen, but on the other side of the block. Hed drag over an abandoned crate from the patchy grass, stand on it, and peer through Emilys window. It was as though she always knew when hed show up, running over as soon as she heard him climbing.
Ill fetch some pies, Grandmas just made them. Her pink ribbon, tying back her fair hair in a ponytail, would loosen and flutter as she hurried.
Tastes brilliant, Tom mumbled, chewing eagerly and gazing into the room. Did you finish the English homework? hed ask.
Yes, all done.
Can I copy?
Emily willingly handed him her notebook. Dont forget to bring it back tomorrow morning, before class.
Tom was a decent student, clever in maths, but, like most boys, rather lazy and easily distracted by games outdoors. Back in the nineties, before mobile phones took over, kids could play outside until it was dark, reluctant to go home.
In Year Eight, Tom carried Emilys schoolbag for the first time, swinging it as he rambled about the latest movie hed watched. But in Year Nine, petite, brown-eyed Sophie emerged as the unofficially crowned most beautiful girl in school. And Tom, besotted, couldnt take his eyes off her. He hovered near, following her home. Emily believed hed outgrow it. Now, she waited for him at the window, hoping he’d tap and ask, Emily, can I copy?
Sophie was good at keeping her admirers at a distance, but she always held Toms attention. He flitted between Sophie, who sometimes charmed him and other times pushed him away, and Emily, who patiently waited for him.
He still popped by her window; shed always have a mug of tea and some biscuits ready if there werent any pies.
Heard our lads lost, hed say, meaning the football. Emily was always ahead of his interests; she watched football, read the sports news, endured horror films that made her uncomfortable, just so shed have something to talk about with Tom.
She supported him as a true mate, always listening and helping him out. Tom came to her more as a friend, someone he knew would be there for him. And then there was Sophie He idolised Sophie, dreamed about her, fussed over her, and even complained to Emily when Mike walked Sophie home.
After school, the three went to different universities. Tom no longer came to Emily for homework help; he shadowed Sophie everywhere. Occasionally, he’d visit Emily out of old habit. Now and then, theyd catch a film together, with Tom talking nonstop, needing to pour out his thoughts.
Tom, my birthdays on Saturday. Would you come? she asked, looking at him with those soft grey eyes, full of affection.
He hesitated. Saturday? Yeah, should be fine. Okay, Ill come. Who else will be there?
Parents, Grandma, Vera and William, Olivia you know, our mates.
All right, sorted, Ill pop in.
Saturday came, but Tom didnt show up. He turned up the next week, troubled and withdrawn.
Tom, whats wrong? You look so down.
He mumbled that Sophie had gone off for a placement and hadnt even told him. Emily comforted him (even though it hurt her). I waited for you last Saturday, she admitted.
What was Saturday?
My birthday
Oh! He hit his forehead. Emily, I forgot, but you wont hold a grudge, will you?
No, it happens.
He wandered over to the window. Do you remember how you used to feed me pies in the summer? There was a crate by your window; Id stand on it, and youd have tea and jam ready.
Emily smiled, the memory warming her, pleased that Tom remembered. They laughed and reminisced about their old gang, classmates, about when theyd once skipped lessons, only to be caught by their form teacher on a bench in the park and sent back to history class.
In their final year, Tom was over the moon: Sophie had agreed to marry him. He brought Emily the news. She kept herself together, biting her lip so she wouldnt burst into tears, playing the loyal friend he could confide in.
She cried herself to sleep for a month, scolding herself for never telling him she loved him after all those years.
Later, he visited her. Grandma and her parents were out visiting friends. The flat felt unusually quiet; Emily was wrapped in her old blanket, watching TV. She could hardly believe it when she heard Toms voice at the door.
She opened it, seeing him crushed, eyes dull, leaning against the wall. Whats happened? she asked, worried.
He stepped inside. They sat in her room. It seemed he might break down. Tom, please, what is it?
She she called off the wedding she loves someone else. Emily had never seen him so empty. She moved closer, laid her hands on his shoulders. Tom, you have to calm down maybe itll all work out.
No, theres nothing left, nothing, shes said it herself and taken the marriage papers back you understand, its over. His eyes shone with tears. He rested his head on her lap, slipped off the sofa, burying his face in the hem of her dress. Its impossible, Emily, impossible
Tom, darling, please, lets calm down. Ill make you some mint tea do you remember how we used to drink tea by the window?
I remember, Emily, I remember, youre the only one who understands me, youre wonderful, he said, kissing her knees hesitantly at first, then more fervently, as though he wanted to pour out his pain in the kisses. He stood up, wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her face, her neck, murmured softly.
Tomstop, please
Emily Emily
Tom, Tom, I love you! Ive loved you since Year Six, always, my dear
He left long after midnight, shifting his gaze away in embarrassment, not daring to meet her eyes. Well, goodbye, Ill come back
Ill be waiting, she said, watching until the communal door slammed shut behind him.
Tom never came back, as if that night never happened. Emily herself wondered if it had been a dream. Soon after, Tom finished university and moved to Cornwall.
We need to do something! Dad whispered anxiously. We could speak to his parents, after all.
You know she doesnt want to! Shes upset, and that could harm the baby, Mum replied. Besides, Tom knows about her pregnancy she told him. And hes acting like a stranger maybe he left on purpose
No, we cant just let it go its scandalous, Dad fumed.
Grandma distracted herself with knitting, often wiping away a tear. It all felt unfair for her granddaughter: clever and kind
After her daughter was born, Emily found Toms work number (begged it from his old mate) and called, speaking just one sentence: Tom, we had a daughter together. I named her Mary.
He muttered something incoherent, but she caught, Congratulations.
When little Mary turned eighteen months, the family announced they’d finally paid off the new flat and were moving together, with Grandma. It was similar two bedrooms, just in a neighbouring area. Well come and visit, take turns to help you, Mum promised.
Emily burst into tears.
Oh, now, why the waterworks? Ill be over every day, look after Mary, well take her to ours, and you can work from home
I just got used to everyone being together, Emily confessed.
Sweetheart, time moves on, you have to make a life for yourself, itll be easier to sort things out on your own, Mum soothed her.
Lately, she kept hearing from parents, Grandma, and friends that she needed to get on with life, that she was young, and even mums with kids find love again.
After a week, Emily had the two-bedroom flat all to herself. Little Mary giggled and toddled, working at walking. She often landed on her bottom, then picked herself up and stretched her arms out to her mum. Emily lifted her up, hugged and giggled along with her.
He appeared suddenly. Hed always dropped by out of the blue, like that time when his wedding with Sophie fell through.
At first, she thought it was her dad, whod promised to visit, but it was Tom at the door, holding a huge toy fire engine, bright red.
Hi! Are you by yourself? Hope Im not intruding? May I come in?
He looked older now, leaner, his features sharper.
Come in.
He set the fire engine on the floor.
Mary started crying; Emily went to fetch her, cradled her in her arms. Ive got a daughter now, she said, nodding to the toy.
He slapped his forehead, Sorry
Take the engine, give it to someone else, said Emily.
He took off his jacket and wandered into the kitchen. Its almost just the same as before. Will you at least make me some tea?
She put the kettle on, still holding Mary. Tom looked uncertain, unable to find the right words.
He watched her fair-haired, her hair loose, long dress almost to her ankles, holding her daughter. You look just like Madonna, he mumbled, staring.
Emily said nothing.
Remember your grandmas amazing pies? And how we had tea by the window in your room. Or your grandma watering the plants and tipping leftover water outside, just as I was standing under the window she didnt see me. Tom tried to smile, Do you remember, Emily
I dont remember, Emily interrupted. Her reply was easy, almost indifferent. Tom hesitated; fell silent. And her answer wasnt out of spite for his confusion when he thought Emily had a son, not a daughter it was genuine. She really was forgetting the details of their meetings. Now she had a daughter; thats where her time and happiness lay. She marvelled at Marys first words, watched her sleep, wake, play, and tried to capture every new thing she did.
Drink your tea, Tom, I need to cook porridge for Mary.
For the first time, Tom felt he wasnt wanted in this home. He put on his jacket, Right, another day then. Ill be off, youre busy. He lingered a few seconds, hoping Emily would stop him, but she didnt.
Closing the door behind him, she quietly said: There wont be another day; no more tea served here. Or coffee.
She returned to her daughter, cuddled her, kissed her, and went to make porridge.
