After the betrayal of his wife and closest friends, a once-wealthy man returns to his hometown. Standing by his mothers grave, hes frozen in shock.
James stops the car. How many times had he planned to visit, yet never found the time? He wasnt there for his mother while she lived, nor after she passed. The guilt twists inside him. It would have taken so littlejust a shaketo make him see the illusion hed built around himself. None of it mattered. Not his words, not his actions. In a way, hes even grateful to Emily, his ex-wife, for ripping away the veil.
Everything collapsed in an instant. His picture-perfect marriage, his friendshipsall lies. His wife had been cheating with his best mate, and the others? Theyd known and said nothing. Total betrayal. After the divorce, James left London for the quiet streets of his childhood in York. Eight years since the funeral, and not once had he visited her grave. Only now does it hit himhis mother was the one person whod never have turned her back on him.
Hed married late, at thirty-three, to Emily, who was twenty-five. God, how proud hed been to have her by his sideelegant, refined. Later, when she screamed in his face that shed loathed every moment of their marriage, that intimacy with him was torture, he realised how blind hed been. Her twisted, furious face was like a grotesque mask. Yet hed almost believed her when she sobbed for forgiveness, claiming he was always too busy, leaving her alone.
But when he stood firm on the divorce, her true colours showed. Now, James steps out of the car, a massive bouquet in hand. He walks slowly down the cemetery path. After all these years, he expects overgrowth, neglect. He hadnt even come when the headstone was placedarranged everything online. Life slips by so easily.
To his surprise, the grave is immaculateno weeds, the stone polished. Someones been tending to it. Who? One of Mums old friends, perhaps. Still alive, unlike her ungrateful son. He opens the little gate. “Hello, Mum,” he whispers. His throat tightens, eyes sting. Tears roll down his cheeks.
Jamesa hardened businessman who never criessobs like a child. And he lets it happen. It feels like purification, washing away Emily and every other failure. As if his mothers hand strokes his hair, her voice whispers, “There, there. Itll be alright, youll see.” He sits in silence, talking to her in his head. Memories surface: skinned knees, her dabbing antiseptic on the wounds, blowing softly. “All my boys scraped their knees. Theyll heal, you wont even remember.” And they did. Each time, the pain lessened.
“You get used to anythingexcept betrayal,” she used to say. Now he understands. Back then, it was just words. Now, he sees her wisdom. She raised him alone, never coddled him, yet made him a decent man.
Time blurs. He doesnt check his watch. For once, theres peace. He decides to stay in York a few days. The house needs sorting. He could pay the neighbour to keep an eye on it, but how long will it sit empty? A smile tugs at his lipshe remembers meeting her daughter. When arranging the house-sitting, hed met Sophie. Hed been a wreck back then, bitter and lost. Sophie was kind. They talked one evening, and things just happened. By morning, hed left a note about where to leave the key.
To Sophie, he mightve seemed callous. But hed made no promises. It was mutual. Shed come home after divorcing an abusive husband, confided in him. Both hurting. Then, just like that
“Excuse me, mister, can you help?” A childs voice snaps him back. Turning, he sees a girl of seven or eight holding an empty bucket.
“I need water for the flowers. Mum and I just planted them, but shes poorly today. Its so hottheyll wilt. The taps close, but the buckets too heavy. I dont want Mum knowing I came alone. If I take tiny amounts, itll take ages, and shell guess.”
James grins. “Of course. Show me the way.”
The girl chatters non-stop. In five minutes, he knows everything: how she warned her mum not to drink cold water in the heat, how Mum got sick anyway. Lily came to her grandmas gravepassed a year ago. Grandma wouldve scolded Mum, so she wouldnt be ill now. Plus, Lilys in Year Two and dreams of acing school.
James feels lighter. Children are so pure. Now he seeshed have been happy with a loving wife and kid waiting at home. Emily was like a porcelain doll, sneering at the idea of children. “Youd have to be daft to ruin your body for some screaming brat,” shed said. Five years married, and not one warm memory remains.
He sets the bucket down. Lily carefully waters the flowers. James glances at the headstoneand freezes. The photo is of the neighbour hed hired to watch the house. Sophies mother. He stares at the girl.
“Was Margaret your grandma?”
“Yes! Did you know her?”
“Waityou tend her grave?”
“Mum and I do. We come every week.”
“You and your mum?” James falters.
“Uh-huh. Like I said, she doesnt let me come alone.” Lily grabs the bucket. “Id better run. Shell ask questions, and Im rubbish at lying.”
“Hold on, Ill drive you.”
Lily shakes her head. “Stranger danger! I wont upset Mumshes poorly.” She darts off.
James returns to his mothers grave, sitting heavily. Somethings off. Sophie only came back temporarilyyet now she lives here? With a daughter? Hed had no clue she had a child. How old is Lily? Maybe Sophie remarried
Later, he drives to his childhood home. His chest aches. Nothings changedas if Mum might step onto the porch any second, wiping tears with her apron before hugging him. He sits in the car a long time. She doesnt appear. Finally, he walks in. The gardens thriving, flowers blooming. Sophies done brilliantly. Inside, the house gleamslived-in, loved.
He knocks next door. Lily answers. “Oh, its you!” She presses a finger to her lips. “Mum mustnt know we met at the cemetery!”
James mimes locking his mouth. Lily giggles.
“Come in,” Sophie calls from the sofa. “Im better, but keep your distancejust in case.”
She freezes when she sees him. “You?”
“Hi.” He glances around. “Wheres your husband?” He already knows the answer.
“James Im sorry I never told you about your mums passing. Jobs are scarce here, so Ive been looking after the house.”
“Thanks. Its like she never left. Spotless. Are you staying long?”
“Just a visit.”
“Thought about selling?”
James shrugs. “Hadnt decided.” He pulls out an envelope. “For youa bonus.” A thick wad of cash.
“James, no!”
Lily beams. “Thanks, Mr. James! Mum wants a new dress, and Id love a bike.”
He laughs. Just like him as a kidnever let money slip by.
That evening, James falls illfeverish, sweating. He digs out his mums old thermometer. High temperature. No idea what meds to take, so he texts Sophie: *Whats good for fever?*
Ten minutes later, she and Lily are at his door.
“Good grief, whyd you come inside? Did I get you sick?”
“Youre the one whos ill!”
“Better now.” She hands him pills. Lily makes tea.
“Careful, shell scald herself.”
“Lily? Nah, shes a pro. Me? Probably spill it everywhere.”
James smiles. Something clicks in his mindchildlike clarity. He sits up suddenly.
“Sophie.”
She tenses. “What?”
“How old is Lily?”
Sophie slumps into a chair. “Why ask now?”
“Sophie?”
She turns to Lily. “Love, fetch us some lemons and juice, yeah?”
Once Lilys gone, Sophie exhales. “James, lets be clear. Lilys nothing to do with you. We need nothing. Forget it.”
“What? Youre serious? Why didnt you call? Tell me?” He jumps up.
“I chose to keep her. You werent part of that choice, so why involve you? Never thought youd come back. Didnt think youd care.”
James sits, stunned. “
