Coming Home
Emma started to feel ill right there on the platform.
She barely made it to the bin before doubling over, her expensive coat rubbing against the cold, filthy metal
Are you alright, love? a kindly local voice piped up nearby.
Leave me alone
Emma stood up straight. Around her, people drifted past in muffled silence: parkas, overnight bags, bundles of groceries.
Everywhere reeked of diesel, cheap cigarettes, and that musty small-town air which always seemed to give Emma a headache.
Shed always hated this town. Hated it with the pure, almost clinical loathing of someone who ran away fifteen years ago and did everything to forget the way back.
Her phone vibrated.
Dad.
Em, where are you? Ive got the car, Ill pick you up.
Ill get a taxi, she snapped. No need to fetch me. Just give me Mums hospital address.
Oh, shes not at the hospital anymore. Got discharged yesterday. Pressure dropped a bit, so they sent her home. I can come get you
At home? The muscles in Emmas face stiffened. Youre kidding me, right? I rushed here for this?
Calm down, Em. Your mums been waiting ages for you. She baked you some pies.
Pies? Are you serious?!
She ended the call.
***
The old flat she grew up in somehow looked even smaller now.
Emma stood in the hallway, staring at the battered, faux-leather-covered door. Next doors cat was already rubbing against her legs, leaving white hairs on her boots. It smelled of cabbage soup, cats, and a hint of something sweet. It always did.
She walked in without knocking.
Her mum sat in the kitchen tiny, grey-haired, wearing a faded housecoat, the hem of her nightie poking through beneath.
At the sight of Emma, her mums face transformed so happy, yet so apologetic that Emma felt a pang of irritation.
Emmie! Darling! I thought youd be here this evening
I asked you not to lie. Emma remained in her boots, standing in the middle of the hallway. You realise my contract might fall through? I spent the night on a train to see you in intensive care, and youre baking pies?
Mum slumped a little, hands falling to her sides.
Sorry, Em. I didnt mean to worry you. Its just my blood pressure, nothing major. But I missed you so much
Thats called lying, Emma kicked off her boots, sent them flying into the corner. Whatever. Wheres your blood pressure monitor? Lets check it, then Im off to a hotel. I cant stay here.
Darling, stay the night
Mum, your toilet leaks, the radiators barely work, the neighbours have mouths on them that rattle the walls. I physically cant stay here.
Emma went into the kitchen and dropped into a chair. On the table sat a plate of lovely, still-warm pies. She didnt even look at them.
Get your monitor.
Her mum brought out an old mechanical monitor.
Whats this then? Emma grimaced. You dont have any money for a decent one? I sent you some.
Oh, love, I put that in your savings account. Just in case you needed it.
Heaven help me, Emma thought.
She pumped up the cuff. The numbers swam before her eyes.
One sixty over ninety. What, are you eating salt by the spoon?
Just a little
Fine. Tomorrow Ill buy you proper medicine. And a proper monitor. Im knackered for now. Where can I sleep?
Mum bustled about making up a bed, while Emma stared out the kitchen window at the endless blocks of dull flats. One thing on her mind: Just dont get stuck here. Please let me leave tomorrow.
***
Emma didnt sleep that night.
The sofa was too short, the springs jabbing her back, neighbours had an almighty row through the paper-thin walls shouts, a womans squeal, a man cursing.
She stared at the ceiling with its familiar old crack. When she was little, it looked like lightning; now it just reminded her the building was falling apart.
She finally dozed off at dawn. She dreamt she was a child again, wandering a street market with her mum, who bought her a hot jam tart dusted with sugar. She felt impossibly happy.
She awoke in tears.
Crying silently in the half-light, she wiped her face with the edge of the sheet.
It was quiet now. Only the clock ticking. The one Mum always threatened to throw out.
Emma? Mums whisper from outside the door. You awake?
Yeah, Emma replied, hoarse.
Theres someone here for you.
Who?
Some girl. Says her names Sophie. Do you remember her?
Emma sat up on the sofa, puzzled. Sophie?
She pulled on a dressing gown and went into the hallway.
Sophie the same Sophie from school, her old best friend stood there. The one Emma left behind all those years ago, without even saying goodbye.
Sophie hadnt changed same pale ponytail, same dimples. Except her eyes were duller, with deep shadows underneath.
Alright? Sophie said. Your mum said you were back, figured Id pop in. Whats it been, fifteen years?
Emma felt awkward. She wanted to make a snarky comment maybe howd you find me or Im actually busy but just couldnt.
Come in, she said.
They sat in the kitchen. Emmas mum, sensing she wasnt needed, slipped out to see a neighbour. Sophie cupped her mug of tea in both hands.
Im married, Sophie announced. Got a daughter Elsie, seven. Starts school soon.
Congrats, Emma said.
How about you? Sophie watched her closely. Is London as good as they say?
Its fine.
Married?
Was.
What happened?
Emma shrugged. She didnt want to admit her husband left her. That the flat, the car, the career none of it kept you warm at night. That she was, truly, alone.
Just werent suited to each other.
Sophie nodded, silent for a moment. Then she said, I forgave you, you know
For what? Emma was honestly surprised.
Come on. You left without a word. We were like sisters shared everything. Then you just disappeared. I was gutted at first, properly angry. But then I realised: thats life. You were following your path. So was I. Now here we are, having tea. And Im glad.
Emma felt her eyes sting. She looked out the window.
Soph, I was an idiot. Im sorry.
Sophie smiled. Lets not dwell, eh?
They chatted for ages. Sophie told her about her husband (works at the factory, likes a pint but not mean), about her daughter (draws on every wall), about the ins and outs of local life. And for the first time, Emma found herself actually interested.
Hey, Sophie said as she was leaving, fancy coming to ours tomorrow? For dinner? Ill do a stew. Elsiell be chuffed to meet you.
I dont know
Go on, Sophie squeezed her hand, Your mum said youre here till Wednesday. May as well catch up proper. Like old times.
Emma nodded.
***
Next day, Emma popped into the chemist.
Needed to buy Mum new pills, a proper monitor, maybe a few bits for the flat. As she walked through the town, she noticed it wasnt quite so bleak. Frosty trees, kids with sledges, old ladies gossiping on benches. Just life going on.
The chemist had a queue. Emma joined the end. Ahead, a woman in a tired anorak stood clutching a string bag full of shopping. She shifted from foot to foot, breathing heavily.
Are you alright? Emma asked.
Ill be fine, love. Just my heart playing up. Ill get my pills, itll settle.
Emma looked her over pale, blue lips, sweat beading her brow.
Sit down here, Ill fetch them. What do you need?
Nitroglycerin, dear. Thank you youre a good soul.
Emma bought the tablets and handed them over. The woman took one, closed her eyes. Within a minute, she was better.
Thank you, lovely. Youre not from round here, eh?
I am, actually, Emma said and was surprised to realise it was true.
Outside, she couldnt help but smile.
***
That evening, Emma headed to Sophies.
Sophie lived in a fifth-floor walk-up, one of those grotty blocks with creaky, narrow stairs.
Emma thought, God, Ive forgotten what these places are like.
But strangely, it didnt bother her anymore.
A skinny, blonde girl with huge eyes answered the door.
Are you Auntie Emma? she asked. Mum said to let you in.
Thats me, Emma smiled.
Im Elsie. Come on in. Weve got stew.
The flat was sparse but spotless: old furniture, faded floral wallpaper, childrens artwork tacked everywhere. It smelled like stew and baking.
Sophie was busy at the stove.
Oi, Em! Come in, get your coat off. Lets eat. Elsie, grab the spoons.
They all sat around the table. Emma tasted the stew, warm and hearty, and felt a slow comfort spreading inside. She couldnt recall the last time shed eaten anything so good, or felt so relaxed with people.
Draw us something, Emma suggested to Elsie.
The little girl shot her a look. Youre pretty. Ill draw you.
Go on then, Emma grinned.
Elsie fetched her sketchbook and pencils, then settled to drawing.
Emma sipped her tea with cherry jam on the side chatting with Sophie.
Do you have any children? Elsie piped up, not looking up from her drawing.
Emma paused. No, I dont. It didnt happen for me.
Why?
Elsie! Sophie interrupted, mortified.
Its alright, Emma smiled. It just didnt work out, Elsie. Some people do, some dont.
Elsie looked up seriously. Dont be sad. Youre still young! Youve got loads of time.
Emma laughed. Thanks, love.
Elsie handed Emma the finished drawing: a lady in a long dress with a crown and flowers all around.
Thats you, Elsie explained. You look like a princess. But youre a sad princess. Ill add a sun, then youll smile.
Emmas throat closed up.
Thank you, sweetheart. Ill stick this up in my flat, in London. Promise.
Promise youll come back? Elsie asked.
I will, Emma promised, and knew this time she meant it.
***
Emma didnt get home until late. Her mum was waiting up.
How was it, love?
Lovely, Mum. Really lovely.
Emma sat beside her, took her mums hand roughened now, dotted with age spots.
Im sorry, Mum. For everything.
For what, darling?
For for being ashamed. Of you, of this town, of myself. Thinking I was better because I left. I wasnt. I just ran.
Mum said nothing. Just stroked Emmas head, like she used to when Emma was small.
You didnt run, Emmie. You survived. Thats how it was here back then: leave, or lose yourself. Im glad you made it out. Just dont ever forget us.
I wont, Mum. I promise.
***
Next morning, Emma packed to leave.
Her dad drove her to the station. Mum stood on the platform, small in her old winter coat, waving.
Emma watched them out the window, feeling a sharp twisting in her chest.
Listen Dad coughed. Dont be a stranger. Were not getting any younger.
Ill come back, Dad. I mean it.
She found her seat on the train, checked her phone. A message from Sophie: Visit again, will you? Elsie wants to know when Auntie Emmas coming next. She really likes you.
Emma smiled, put her phone away.
The train pulled off. Grey flats, sheds, frozen fields slid by. And for the first time, Emma realised her head didnt ache. She wasnt sick or desperate to shut the world out.
From her bag, she took Elsies drawing. Unfolded it. Princess, crown, flowers, the beginnings of a sun.
Emma looked out the window. Over the fields, the sun was rising big, red, real.
***
A week later, Emma sent Sophie some money. Not for anything specific just a little something for Elsies art supplies or her after-school clubs.
Sophie tried to say no, but Emma insisted.
And six months on, she came back again. No warning. Just bought a train ticket and returned.
Emma, Sophie, and Elsie sat together in that tiny kitchen, eating stew and chatting. And Emma realised: this, really, was happiness. When you mattered to someone. Just because.
