– Polly, are you ready yet? Im going to be late for school! Victoria shook out the last of Cyrils shirts and pegged it onto the washing line stretched across the balcony. Uncovered, and with its railings flecked by peeling paint, it was her favourite spot in their flat.
Victoria wandered to the edge and paused, as she always did. From the seventh floor, the view over the Thames and the rooftops was striking. Dawn had already broken, and everything was drenched in clear spring sunlight. She squinted, wrapping her slender fingers round the iron rail. This this was life! Bright, beautiful, brimming with promise, so dazzling with possibility it almost hurt her eyes! And she would grasp it. She just needed to finish her chores, get everything in order, and things would work out as shed planned.
A cloud swept in, dimming the sun for a moment. Victoria shivered and snapped back to reality. Instantly, everything looked ordinary, practical, as it always did after her daydreams. Everyday-ness replaced hopes. But, as Susan once said, reality is what we make of it. What it becomes depends on us. Victoria suspected she was right. Susan was clever, a university graduate, who believed Victoria could get in too, if she only wished it. But wanting wasnt enough. There were choices to make, and all the weighing seemed to fall to her. Dad couldnt cope alone. The younger siblings were too little, and money was desperately tight, meaning Victoria would have to choose: university or work. And for now, work was the only realistic option.
She glanced at the tiny clock her father gave her in Year Four and gasped. They would be late! She snatched up the empty tub, pushed open the balcony door, and hurried inside.
Polly was still fast asleep, hand tucked under her cheek, dreamy and serene. Victoria looked at her little sister with pure adoration. How lovely she was! Her lashes were so long they brushed her rosy cheeks, her pale curls spilling over the pillow. So much hassle those curls caused, but Victoria refused to cut them. Beauty must be treasured. Their mother had curls just like Pollys. Victorias face clouded. She hated thinking of their mother. One can forgive almost anything, but never betrayal. Their mum betrayed them, left them. Polly was too young to remember her called Victoria Mum for years, which earned them awkward looks at the playground. Victoria smiled, recalling how the other mums had pounced on her the first time they heard it.
They moved into this flat after their grandmother died and the home was inherited by Dad. Their old two-bed was bursting at the seams; suddenly, they found themselves in a roomy four-bedroom place.
Granny had been an intimidating woman, a retired university lecturer, and never mixed with neighbours, convinced them shallow and vapid. As a child, Victoria didnt quite understand, though she disliked her grandmothers hostility and coldness. Yes, Victoria visited to help, but always braced herself for the brunt of Grannys remarks.
You youre the double of your mother. Doubt anything good will come of you. Unless our genes show up at last. Though, your father nature skipped him, so theres little hope. The only thing that could save you is education! Study, or youll end up like your mum.
Victoria never answered back. There was nothing to say and Granny didnt tolerate disagreement. Dad never scolded Victoria when Granny complained, but the pain in his face and how he withdrew the rest of the day that was punishment enough. So Victoria simply got on with the cleaning, finished her chores in silence, and all but fled from Grannys flat as soon as she was able. Only once did she snap, and after that, wouldnt allow herself even a tinge of regret.
Your brother and sister are probably not your fathers children. So they have nothing to do with me. I forbid you to mention them in my house, do you understand?
Then I wont come here either! Victoria clenched her fists, facing down her grandmother.
What did you say? Grannys astonished tone cooled Victorias anger somewhat, but for a moment, shed wanted to smash every one of those dreadful porcelain ornaments she always hated cleaning taking two hours dusting each one under tight scrutiny. Granny had collected them for years, forbidding Victoria from bringing her younger siblings over in case their sticky fingers ruined her treasures.
Im not coming again! Victoria called as she dashed for the door, struggled into her coat, and ran home in moments. Polly was babbling in her playpen, and Victoria, boots still in the hall, swept her little sister up.
Youre mine! And Cyrils mine! Were family, whatever anyone says, and we dont need anyone else!
Dad peered from the bathroom where he was scrubbing the childrens clothes and stared, bewildered, at his sobbing eldest. Polly poked Victorias cheeks and, finding them wet, began bawling herself, louder than Victoria. Cyril, doing his homework in the kitchen, came running.
Whats up with them?
No idea!
Girls! Cyril rolled his eyes, grabbing both sisters in a hug. Cry-babies. You coming for tea? Dad and I made spaghetti.
An hour later, Granny rang. Victoria carefully set her half-washed plate aside and turned off the tap. Dads voice in the lounge went from surprised, to gruff, to angry, even. Victoria sat quietly, hugging her knees, bracing herself for a row
But none came. Nothing at all. That evening, Dad found her in the kitchen, hugged her tight, kissed her on the head, and murmured,
You dont have to see Granny again.
Why not?
Because nobody has the right to belittle you or insult your family not even relatives.
Victoria clung to him, relief washing over her. No more misery, no more endless criticism. She could focus on her tasks and the little ones.
Granny passed away a year and a half later. In the final two months, Victoria started seeing her again after visiting the hospital with Dad. That shrunken, frail old woman, lost in hospital sheets, was unrecognisable. Only the way she spoke to people remained unchanged. Watching how Granny treated the nurses, Victoria squeezed Dads hand.
Ill stay.
Love
I must.
The nurses breathed easier knowing Victoria was around. Since her classes started after lunch, Victoria could make morning visits and, being present, calmed Granny enough for the ward to function smoothly.
Youre an extraordinary girl, the elder nurse once said, hugging Victoria. And your gran dont hold it all against her, dear. If someones heart is mean, it means happiness missed them. Frightening, really. Shell go never having understood life, or herself.
On her last visit, Granny was uncharacteristically quiet, watching stormy clouds through the window. Victoria finished her essay, packed her rucksack, and got up.
I need to go.
Wait… Grannys voice was papery-thin. Forgive me, child. For everything Life was foolish. Take care of your dad
Victoria nodded, gripped her rucksack, and walked to the door. Suddenly, she stopped, returned, and wordlessly kissed Granny on the cheek.
Rest now. Ill come back tonight.
She just caught Granny turn her face away as Victoria rushed out. School was nearly an hours walk, and shed barely get there on time.
Granny died that very day. Victoria listened quietly as Dad broke the news, then gathered the little ones and went to her room. For her, Grannys loss was more a huge ordeal, but for Dad, shed been his mum. Victoria knew he would sit in the kitchen for hours, staring at nothing, before wiping his tears, so the children wouldnt see, and starting supper.
The move was tough. Polly was poorly, Cyril acted up and refused to obey, Dad dashed endlessly between work and home. Victoria boxed up their belongings, muttering prayers that, in the new house, things would be better. She had no idea who she was addressing, but hoped someone listened.
The new flat suddenly gave everyone space, and at first, they scattered to their own rooms, adjusting to not always being together. Soon, though, Pollys bed appeared in Victorias room Polly often crept in at night anyway and Cyril set up camp in the kitchen, always where Victoria spent most of her time. They spread out books and homework alongside pies and potatoes.
Salt the potatoes! Victoria, wrestling with a physics problem, shot orders without looking up. Numbers never came easily to her; best get them out of the way.
Vic, the soups boiling what next?
Coming! She set her pen aside to chop vegetables.
I cant get these negatives right. Help, Vic?
All right, lets have a look.
Polly scribbled away at her own table, convinced if her siblings studied, so should she.
For those early months after the move, life was overwhelming. With Dad at work, the kids fell to Victoria. She could manage Cyril, but Polly was harder. Nursery helped when she wasnt ill but every bug meant missed school days for Victoria. Then Susan arrived.
Victoria met their next-door neighbour quite by accident. Their first week, she brought Polly to the playpark. The weather was lovely, children everywhere, along with parents and their ever-watchful, chattering minds. Polly wanted a turn on the swings, but there was a queue.
Mum! Polly called out, her clear little voice ringing round the playground, and suddenly everyone was staring.
What mother? That young? Good Lord! Already a mum such disgrace!
Immediately, the gossips set to work.
Polly became louder in protest, while Victoria had no idea how to drag her away.
Whats going on here?
Victoria jumped. The sharp voice, metallic with authority, might have been her grans. The gabbling crowd went suddenly silent.
Susan! Hello!
A well-dressed young woman picked up her son. Glad youre here. Seems our new neighbour caused quite a stir.
She snorted, picked up her bag of toys, and headed to the flats.
Whats the trouble? Susan scanned the cluster.
The fussiest of the lot, old Mrs Jenkins, stood hands on hips.
Shocking, Susan! Look at her a child with a child! You understand law, you tell us is it right? Shouldnt someone do something? Children raising children! Its n…not right! Let grownups care for the young! That girl should be studying, not caring for a baby! That babys better off with proper adults!
Thats all? Susan raised an eyebrow.
Everyone seemed to have an opinion, even when nobody asked for it. Mrs Jenkins muttered, took her granddaughter by the hand, and hurried away.
Performance over! Susan shrugged. Next time, ask before you start a rally. Who is she to you?
My sister.
Any questions?
One by one, the women sloped off, heads low.
Whats your name?
Victoria. Thats Polly.
You know mine call me Susan, not Mrs Anything.
Auntie Susan?
God help me, no! Susan gave an exaggerated sigh. Im far too young for that. Call me Susan, or Susie if you like.
Victoria could scarcely remember how they became close. Some might wonder what a teenager and a woman of thirty could have in common, but fate must have decided she needed exactly this friendship.
Soon, Victoria saw why everyone respected Susan and why some neighbours were wary. She was a solicitor, an expert in family law. Sooner or later, everyone needed her help. And she was discreet as a tomb.
Youve no idea what I know, helping people with divorces and inheritance rows, Susan said, swinging curtains down for washing. Gorgeous fabric, but a nightmare to clean!
Why do they fear you?
People want to look decent before others keep their secrets. But if its known they abandoned elderly parents or avoided child payments, their image is ruined, reputation gone. Thats what theyre afraid of.
Victoria nodded; she understood all too well. Thats why Dad chose to move. To escape the whispers about why Mum was gone.
Susan became the first person Victoria told about her mother. She was so used to holding it all in, shed never realised how much it weighed on her.
One day, Susan asked Victoria to feed her cat.
Ive a case this afternoon and might not get back. Ive got a doctor, then a meeting. Can you help? Hell be grumpy if youre late, you know.
Hes just a cat!
Susan chuckled.
Just a cat, until he wakes me at 2 a.m., tapping me till I feed him.
Lock him out, then?
Susan beckoned. In the kitchen, her cat Arthur was snoozing on the sofa.
She whispered, One, two, three
BANG! Even Victoria jumped as Arthur hurled himself at the door.
See? Susan scooped up the scowling cat. Hes convinced hes in charge.
She showed Victoria the cat food, then dashed off.
But Victoria was delayed at school, then Polly dawdled in nursery and spent ages picking a chocolate bar in the shop. Then Cyril wanted help with his maths. By the time she unlocked Susans flat, it was almost eight.
Sorry, Arthur! Not your fault, she said, pouring the food out. The cat shot her a baleful glare.
The door banged and Susan slumped at the kitchen table, dropping her bag. Thanks for coming.
Susan, I
But Susan suddenly burst into tears, hiding her head in her arms. Victoria was dumbfounded. Susan had always seemed so steady and strong.
Im sorry, I just had a rotten day. My mums gone, theres no one else.
What about me? Victoria bent close. Am I invisible?
Susan grinned through tears, brushing Victorias curls.
Curls I always wanted hair like yours. Women always wish for what we dont have curls, or a baby.
Susan went quiet.
Curls are easy now but a baby? Victoria pressed, politely but curious. Gran always scolded her for being nosy, but Susan had done so much for her family. Why not listen?
Susan dabbed her eyes and fished out a folder.
A baby this. She held up some papers. My verdict. There wont be one. The mistake is just mine sometimes they cost too much. Remember that.
Susan had gotten pregnant straight away, not after months or years, but right away when she and her husband Max decided it was time. Max had been thrilled. Their parents were lifelong friends; partnership seemed inevitable. All plans and dreams, waiting for the right flat, the right job. Pregnancy, though longed for, had come as a shock.
Max, what about our trip? I didnt think it would happen so soon
Theyd booked a holiday in Spain. After checking with her doctor, Susan agreed. They planned for everything except a teenager on a scooter. The accident changed everything.
She lost the baby. Broken ribs, a damaged leg, and a long, gruelling recovery. The doctor urged Max to give her as much goodwill and support as he could.
But she just cries and wont talk to me, Max said, worn thin.
Their marriage began to unravel. Max tried, but Susan shut him out in her sorrow.
It was only later that Susan realised shed made their loss all about herself. She forgot the baby was Maxs too.
They divorced as soon as they returned home. The adjustment was hard, but she coped. A year later, she ran into Max at court and realised, at last, shed healed. Childhood memories and old friendship remained, alongside rare understanding nobody else ever got her like Max did.
Why hadnt she let him comfort her in Spain? Shed never know, but it was too late to turn back. They talked all night at her flat, reminiscing, laughing, stepping lightly round painful topics. Eventually, their friendship was restored. When Max proposed remarriage, she took a long, slow pause to think.
I did think Susan pushed the folder away, wiping her eyes. But how can I be so selfish? Hes always wanted kids.
Are you sure? Cant there be a mistake? Victoria nudged the documents.
The specialists say no.
Theyre only human. People err isnt there at least a tiny chance?
Almost none. And if nothing comes of it?
Then you can cry then! Dont be silly. At least try, and only cry if you must.
Susan hugged her.
Thank you! Where did you get such wisdom at your age?
Good teachers, Victoria muttered, reaching for the kettle.
Will you tell me about your mum? Why its just you, your dad, and the little ones? Go on honesty for honesty.Victoria poured boiling water over tea bags, the steam rising between them like a gentle curtain, softening all the sharpness of what had been said and all the ache that remained.
My mum? Victoria cleared her throat. She left when I was ten. Cyril had just started school and Polly was a baby. Dad never said much, but I remember the shouting a door slammed, the sound of Mums keys on the counter. She wanted something different. Maybe she thought she couldnt be happy here.
Susan listened, quiet and close, Arthur padding circles at their feet.
I waited for her to come back. I used to make up stories she was ill, or spies took her, or shed lost her memory. Sometimes I even set her a place at dinner. But one day, I realised I didnt need her to be happy, not anymore. Dad did his best. And look at us now messy, noisy, never enough money, but were managing. Together.
Susan smiled, touched.
Youre braver than you know, she said softly.
Victoria shrugged, stirring sugar into her mug. Its not bravery. Its just you keep on going, dont you? Even if you feel stuck, or sad, or mad at the world. Polly needs her curls braided. Cyril wants a hand with homework. Dad needs someone to laugh at his terrible jokes. I cant let them down.
And who looks after you, Victoria?
Victoria tilted her head, honestly thinking. In the quiet she felt her own answer lift inside her. Friends do. People who understand. Like you.
Susans smile shimmered. And wont ever stop, she promised.
The kettle clicked off. Victoria poured the tea, handed Susan a mug, then raised her own.
To forgiveness, she said, recalling her grans final words.
Susan touched her mug to Victorias. And to new beginnings.
In the golden hush, with Arthur purring and the city waking somewhere outside, Victoria caught a glimpse of all that possibility shed felt on the balcony hours ago. Life, bright and complicated, rose up on the other side of every closed door and now, she wasnt facing it alone.
She grinned, warmth spreading through her like light. On the wind from the river, she could almost hear laughter hers, her siblings, her fathers, and Susans, mingling in a promise that whatever happened, they would always find a way home, together.
Tomorrow would come as it always did: with chores and homework, with doubts and small joys. But tonight, the world was wide open, and Victoria at last stepped into it, ready.
