**Diary Entry**
I closed the file and sent it to my work email. On Monday, I’ll open it at the office, print it, stamp it, and submit the report. Done! Freedom at last.
I work as an accountant for a small company in London. The workload is heavy, but the pay is decent, and the office is just a short walk from home—no need to waste hours crammed into the Tube during rush hour. A brisk morning walk, fresh air, and I’m at my desk.
The accounting team is all women. I don’t get too close to anyone. Most have families, kids, while I’m single. If someone asks me to take on extra work, I never say no. I’d spend evenings and weekends at home finishing it—just like today.
I woke up early on Saturday and went straight to my laptop, double-checking everything before sending the file. Now, I could freshen up, have breakfast, and then… My thoughts were cut off by the phone ringing.
“Natalie, hi!” chirped a cheerful female voice.
“Hi,” I replied cautiously. “Who is this?”
“Oh, come on! It’s me, Maisie!”
“Maisie?” I echoed, sceptical. “You’re in London?”
“Not yet, nearly there,” she laughed.
I didn’t know what to say. Of all people, Maisie was the last I expected to hear from. After what she did fifteen years ago, we hadn’t spoken. Now I regretted never changing my number.
“Natalie, I’ve got no one else in London but you,” Maisie broke the silence. “Can you meet me? Please. I’ve divorced Dan ages ago. Wanted a fresh start.” Her voice was muted, guilty.
I didn’t want to see her. But so much time had passed—old wounds had healed. And I was curious about news from back home. Fine. I’d meet her, take her where she needed, and that’d be it.
“What time’s your train?” I asked without enthusiasm.
“Twenty minutes. You’ll come, won’t you?” Her voice brightened.
“It’ll take me at least an hour—bus, then the Tube. Will you wait? Don’t wander off; stay in the station’s main hall.” I heard myself speaking and couldn’t believe I was actually going.
“I’ll wait,” she promised.
With a sigh, I glanced at the cold kettle, washed up quickly, dressed, and left. I rent a small one-bed flat in a London suburb. It’s enough for one, and cheap.
Inside the station’s bustling hall, I hesitated. How would I find Maisie in this crowd? I hadn’t seen her in fifteen years—would I even recognise her? I walked slowly, keeping to the centre where I’d be visible.
“Natalie!” A familiar voice called out.
From the kiosks, an altered but recognisable Maisie rushed towards me. She’d gained weight, lightened her hair, and heavy makeup aged her, but I knew her instantly.
She threw her arms around me in a dramatic hug.
“Finally! I’m dead on my feet.” She looped her arm through mine and dragged me to where her wheeled suitcase and bulky bag sat unattended.
“You can’t just leave your things like that—they could get stolen,” I said, grasping for something to say.
“Didn’t happen, did it? Anyway, nothing valuable—cash and docs are on me.” She glanced down at her ample chest.
I shook my head, scanning the crowd. No one paid us any mind.
Maisie perched her bag on the suitcase and looked at me expectantly.
“Where do you need to go?” I sighed.
“You’re still mad at me? I wanted to ask… Could I stay with you a few days while I find a flat?” She bit her lip.
*The nerve. First she steals my boyfriend, now she wants to crash with me? I should’ve ignored her call.*
“Let’s go,” I said, heading for the exit.
Maisie chattered, but I stayed silent, pretending to focus on weaving through the crowd. She eventually huffed behind me, struggling to keep up.
“I thought you lived in central London. This doesn’t even feel like the city,” she said, disappointed, when we reached my tiny flat. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a place fast. You live alone? Saw men’s slippers by the door.”
*Should’ve hidden those.* “Alone. They’re for guests.”
She flopped onto the sofa, stretching her legs.
“I’m in London! Can’t believe it.”
I made tea, sliced bread and ham for sandwiches.
“Got any wine? Let’s toast to our reunion,” Maisie suggested.
I pulled a half-finished bottle from the fridge, set out two glasses.
She drank freely while I barely sipped, rambling about her past. Dan had a terrible temper—divorced soon after the wedding. Her second husband was older; she married for money, cheated with his driver, got thrown out. The divorce drained her, but she had savings. Now, she wanted a fresh start in London.
“You were smart to leave right after school. Nothing back home but boredom.”
I didn’t need to move to London for accounting. Dan and I dated from Year 10. We’d planned to marry after I finished college. Then, after graduation, Maisie got him drunk and slept with him, lying about a pregnancy. Dan married her. When the truth came out, they split.
I’d cried, then left. No grand ambitions—just needed to earn a living. When Mum said, *Don’t let her back into your life. If Dan loved you, he wouldn’t have left so easily,* I’d nodded. Now, listening to Maisie, I was glad I hadn’t mentioned Edward.
We met six months ago on the Tube. A Londoner, his parents bought him a flat but were picky about his girlfriends. They liked me. *”A proper girl, not like those flighty ones,”* his mum said.
After Dan, I’d never wanted anything serious—until Edward. I imagined growing old together, weekends in the countryside, raising kids…
He was away on business until Tuesday. I prayed Maisie would be gone by then.
But days passed, and she stayed. Doubtful she even looked for a flat—too busy clubbing, coming home at dawn, often drunk. She’d sleep while I worked, vanish by the time I returned. We barely spoke.
“Want me to talk to her?” Edward offered once.
“No, I’ll handle it,” I said quickly, dreading them meeting.
One evening, I came home to find Maisie passed out on the sofa—in my dress, wearing my bracelet. I snapped. Two weeks freeloading, now stealing my things?
“Maisie, wake up!” I yelled. She mumbled, eyes shut. “Get up or I’ll pour water on you!”
“What’s the shouting?” She cracked one eye open.
“Why are you wearing my dress? My bracelet?”
“Upset, are you?” she slurred.
“They’re mine. This isn’t working. You promised to find a flat—”
“Kicking me out?” She sat up sharply.
“Don’t twist it. I have my own life. This flat’s too small for two. Take off the dress and bracelet.”
“Fine.” She yanked the dress over her head. My breath caught—she was wearing my lingerie too.
“This as well?” She reached for the bra clasp.
“Keep it,” I snapped.
I remembered my blouse smelling like her perfume last week. Brushed it off then.
“You need to leave. You said you had money. What’s the problem?”
“Had money. Spent it,” she spat, cinching a robe. “I’ll go tomorrow. Not at night, yeah?”
“Could’ve at least washed up. The kitchen’s a mess,” I muttered, scrubbing dishes.
The doorbell rang. Edward stood there.
“You’re early. We agreed on Tuesday.”
“Came to help,” he said, eyes darting past me.
I turned. Maisie smirked.
“This your bloke? Quiet type, huh? I’m Maisie. Come in, handsome.”
I could’ve throttled her.
Edward smiled, introduced himself. I nearly choked.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Maisie purred, swaying to the kitchen, flashing her legs.
She played hostess, brushing against Edward, shooting him looks. I bit back tears. First Dan, now him. All my men fell for her.
“I’ve an early start. Goodnight,” I said stiffly, leaving.
I hoped he’d follow. He didn’t. Rage bubbled inside. I’d throw them both out, never speak to him again. *Never.*
Maisie strutted in, changed into trousers and a top, tossed the bracelet onto the sofa.
“Edward and I are off. Didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Natalie…” Edward peered in. I didn’t turn. Tears burnedAs I sat alone in the quiet flat that night, I realised some friendships are best left buried in the past, and the only person I could truly rely on was myself.
