Polly, are you ready? Im going to be late for school! Victoria gave one last shake to Williams shirt and hung it on the makeshift washing line strung across the balcony. It was unglazed, the paint peeling from the walls, but it was Victorias favourite spot in the flat.
Stepping to the railings, she paused as she always did. From the seventh floor, she had a breathtaking view of the Thames meandering through the city and the rooftops of Reading below. Dawn was in full bloom, everything bathed in brilliant spring sunshine. Victoria squinted and wrapped her fingers around the cold metal rail. This was it life! Luminous and beautiful, with everything ahead and so dazzling it almost hurt to look. This was how it was for her too, or would be once her chores were sorted and things finally fell into place just as she dreamed.
A sudden cloud scudded across the sun. Victoria shivered, brought back to herself. The world sharpened around her, and suddenly felt crushingly ordinary. Wasnt that always the way? Dreams soaring one moment, then bam! reality. Still What was it Sophie had said? Reality is what we make it? What it becomes is down to us? Perhaps she was right. Sophie had always been clever a university graduate, after all she believed Victoria had a real shot at higher education herself. If she wanted it, that is. Wanting it was one thing, but there was so much to consider. With the way things were, her dad couldnt manage alone. The youngest two were still little, and money was desperately tight. University or work there really wasnt a choice to be made. Shed have to find a job and help her father; that much was clear for now.
Victoria glanced at the tiny wristwatch her dad had given her back in Year Four and gasped. Theyd be late! Scooping up the empty washing basket, she pushed through the balcony door.
Little Polly was sleeping soundly, her small hand tucked under her cheek, curls spread across the pillow. She looked so beautiful lying there those long, fair lashes resting on her cheeks. All that fuss looking after her hair, but Victoria refused to cut it. You had to treasure beauty like that. Their mum’s hair had been the same. Victoria frowned; she hated thinking about her mother. Most things could be forgiven, but not betrayal and Mum had betrayed them, left them behind. Polly barely remembered her, calling Victoria Mummy when she was small, which led to more than a few raised eyebrows from other mums in the playground. Victorias lips twitched, recalling the shocked grown-ups the first time they heard.
They had moved here after Gran passed, inheriting her spacious four-bedroom in a leafy suburb on the north edge of Reading. Their old place a tiny two-bed had been far too cramped for all of them. Gran had been a strict and imposing woman, a university professor who didnt bother with neighbours, dismissing them as trivial. By the time Victoria was old enough to notice, shed already learned to avoid her grandmothers flat except when help was truly needed. Grans manner with others made Victoria grit her teeth, but she would silently mop floors or finish chores rather than provoke an argument.
Youre a poor copy of your useless mother. Unless you get your brains from our side, I doubt youll amount to much. Nature did nothing for your father, so who knows if theres anything worth a damn in you at all. Only knowledge can save you! Study, or youll end up just like her.
Victoria would say nothing. What was the point? Gran wouldnt tolerate objection; Dad never scolded, but Victoria could see the shadows deepen in his eyes when Gran complained about her, and hed withdraw into silence for the rest of the day. That was enough of a punishment, so Victoria kept her head down, finished up, and escaped as soon as she could.
Only once did her temper snap.
Your brother and sister arent even your fathers, are they? I want no mention of those brats in my home, do you hear me?
Then neither will you see me! said Victoria, fists clenched.
What did you say? Gran was so shocked she actually softened for a moment, but Victoria stormed into the hallway, threw on her coat, and fled. When she got back, Polly was babbling in the playpen. Sweeping her up, Victoria pressed her lips to her sisters hair.
Youre mine. And William too. Were all family, no matter what anyone says. We dont need anyone else.
Her dad peered out of the bathroom, hands wet from washing little clothes, surprised to see Victoria sobbing in the lounge. Polly drew circles on her cheeks with her fingers, and, sensing the wetness, started howling too. William, stuck on his spellings in the kitchen, rushed in.
Whats all this, then?
No idea, mate!
Women! William declared, rolling his eyes and hugging his sisters. Cry-babies, the lot of you. You coming for dinner? Dad made pasta.
Gran called an hour later, just as Victoria was rinsing a plate. She sat on the stool in the kitchen, knees tucked up, bracing. A row was brewing
But she was wrong. Nothing explosive happened. That evening, Dad hugged her silently and, with a kiss on her temple, said,
Dont go to your grans anymore.
Why not?
Because no one, family or not, has the right to belittle you or those you care about.
Victoria exhaled in relief, pressing into the embrace. No more dread, no more barbed words she could finally focus on her siblings and herself.
Gran died a year and a half later. In the last two months, Victoria began visiting the hospital, especially after going in with her father one morning. There was nothing left of her old, booming grandmother only a frail, bitter woman lost in the hospital bed. But her sharp tongue was the same as ever. Victoria noticed how the nurses sighed with relief when she was there as a buffer, and did her best to help.
Youre a remarkable girl, the senior nurse whispered, hugging her. Dont hold a grudge, dear. Some people live in misery and never know happiness. Thats the real tragedy.
The last time Victoria saw her, Gran was uncharacteristically subdued, gazing at the grey sky out the window. Victoria finished a homework essay on her lap, packed up, and stood to leave.
I need to go.
Wait the voice was papery soft. Victoria turned, surprised.
Forgive me, dear. For everything Lifes been foolish. Look after your father.
Victoria simply nodded and left, pausing only to gently kiss her grandmothers cheek before slipping out. The journey to school would take almost an hour. There was barely enough time.
Gran was gone that same day. Victoria sat in silence when she was told, then led her brother and sister into the bedroom. Her dad For him, Gran had been his mother. Victoria knew hed spend half the night at the kitchen table, staring at nothing, before drying his tears, so the little ones wouldnt see, and getting on with tomorrows tea.
The move was exhausting. Polly fell ill. William was moody, refusing to behave or do schoolwork. Dad rushed between his job and home. Victoria boxed up their things and muttered silent pleas that, in this new place, life might change for the better. She wasnt sure who she was praying to, but she felt heard.
In Grans old flat, suddenly everyone had their own space. At first, they all scattered into separate rooms, uncertain about being apart. But before long, Pollys bed appeared in Victorias room the younger girl fretted at night, always returning to her sister. William set up camp in the kitchen, where Victoria spent most evenings. They divvied the table, laying out books and working through homework together, fitting in chores and dinner.
Salt the potatoes! Victoria was untangling a physics question, always her weak spot.
Vic, the soups boiling what do I do next?
One sec! Shed drop her pen and slice carrots.
This maths is impossible! I just cant get to grips with negative numbers. Vic?
Lets see show me?
Polly would be there too, scribbling with a bright green crayon. If her siblings were working, so would she.
Those early months, Victoria had a tough time. Her dad worked overtime; she was left in charge. William would listen, more or less, but Polly was a handful nursery helped, but her coughs and sniffles often kept Victoria home from school. That was before she met Sophie.
She bumped into the neighbour, Sophie, by chance, on the playground. In their first week, the park was crowded with nannies, mums, and grandmas, all quizzically eyeing the new arrivals. Polly tugged at Victorias sleeve, determined to get on the swings but there was a queue.
Mummy! Pollys call echoed through the playground. Noses turned.
Mummy? Her? What was she, fifteen? Outrageous.
Bustling busybodies rushed to pass judgment, all at once.
Polly whined for the swings and Victoria desperately wished she could spirit her away from the curiosity.
Whats going on here? A voice, metallic and clear, cut the gossip off. For a moment, Victoria thought it was Gran, but it was Sophie, arms crossed, bag slung over shoulder, her own little boy on her hip.
Sophie! Good youre here. This is our new neighbour. Looks like shes shocked the local henhouse.
Sophie rolled her eyes and gathered her things.
Whats the problem? she surveyed the group.
The ringleader, fussy and grey, bristled.
Look at this, Sophie! So young! What kind of world is this? Youd know, being a solicitor and all surely the authorities will do something? And how can a child raise a child? This isnt right. She ought to give the little one up if she cant manage!
Anything else? Sophie arched an eyebrow.
There were always more words, Victoria realised, when no one ever asked for them. But for once, the old woman fell silent, squeezed her granddaughters hand and scuttled away.
Shows over! Sophie shrugged. Next time, try learning the facts before you jump in. You, who are you to the little one?
Shes my sister.
Any further questions? Sophie said, sending the crowd home.
Whats your name?
Victoria. And this is Polly.
You already know mine. Just Sophie, please, not Mrs. Anything.
Should I call you Auntie Sophie?
God, no! Sophie mock-gasped. Im far too young. Just Sophie. Close enough in age, really.
Victoria would never quite remember how Sophie became her friend. Some would say a thirty-year-old and a teenager couldnt be friends, but perhaps fate had decided to deal Victoria a lucky hand. She certainly needed one.
Sophie soon taught Victoria why the neighbours respected her and why some were nervous. As a family solicitor, Sophie was privy to many secrets. In time, everyone in the block turned to her.
You wouldnt believe what I know! shed joke, helping Victoria take down grimy curtains for washing. Lovely fabric, but a nightmare to launder.
Why are people scared of you, anyway? Victoria asked as Sophie stretched on tiptoe at the window, as slight and quick as any schoolgirl herself.
Everyone wants to be thought well of, Vic. The more others believe it, the easier to believe it yourself. No one likes to have it revealed that they dodged child support, neglected an elderly parent, or stuck granny in a home for the sake of a council flat. Shatter their image, the reputations gone thats the power. You understand?
Victoria nodded. Yes. That was why Dad moved to keep away from all who knew just why Mum had left
Sophie was the first person Victoria truly confided in. Shed been so used to bottling up her anger and worries, she never realised how much they built up. What if Gran was right, and she turned out just the same?
One afternoon, Sophie asked her to feed the cat.
Ive got a hearing and it might run late. Clinic appointment after, then a client meeting. If you could otherwise hell howl the place down all night.
Its only a cat, Sophie!
Sophie laughed.
Oh, hell hold a grudge and keep me up half the night, tapping my face with his paw if I dont keep to schedule.
Cant you just shut him in another room?
Sophie beckoned Victoria quietly.
Watch! She closed the kitchen door, where Marmalade, the massive ginger tom, was asleep on the settee.
She raised a finger, whispered, One two three!
A crash shook the door. Victoria jumped.
Blimey!
Exactly! And he keeps at it till I let him out! Sophie scooped up the grumpy cat, stroking his back. I sometimes think he owns this place, not me.
She showed Victoria the food tins, then hurried off.
Victoria got delayed at school; Polly dawdled at nursery, and there was a meltdown over which chocolate to buy at Tesco. At home, William needed help with maths homework. It was nearly eight when Victoria finally burst into Sophies, apologising to the cat and opening a can.
The door banged and Sophie appeared, slumping into a chair.
Thanks for remembering, love, she muttered, but her face suddenly crumpled and she burst into tears, head in hands. Victoria froze in her mind, Sophie was always so strong and unshakeable. Suddenly, she was sobbing.
Victoria sat beside her, hesitantly putting an arm round Sophies shoulders.
Sorry, Sophie sniffed. I just snapped. Rough day. No one to talk to. No mum. Not really got anyone else.
Youve got me, havent you? Victoria looked up at her.
Sophie smiled through the tears, ruffling Victorias unruly curls.
Always wanted curly hair! Thats it with women we long for what we dont have. I wanted curls. And a child.
Sophie fell silent.
Hah, curls are easy, you can get those now. But a child?
Victorias curiosity burst through her caution; Gran would have scolded such boldness, but Sophie had been a godsend. Shed helped with Polly, watched over William when he locked himself out, even helped paint the lounge.
Sophie wiped her cheeks and rooted in her bag for a clear plastic file.
Here it is. My sentence. No children for me. Not ever. And its no ones fault but mine. Some mistakes are just too expensive, Victoria. Remember that.
Sophies story tumbled out. No years of longing and waiting shed conceived at once when she and her husband decided it was time. Sam was over the moon theyd known each other since they were children, their parents close friends. No question about their future: marriage, a lovely ceremony, big plans and always putting off kids until work, holidays, a bigger house. When the pregnancy arrived sooner than expected, it took them by surprise.
Holidays? But what about that Thailand trip? I cant believe it happened so soon
Well still go its early days. Sun, then well prepare.
With her GPs OK, they went. Everything was perfect until a teenager on a scooter collided with Sophie. She woke up in hospital.
She lost the baby. Her recovery was slow; the doctor suggested Sam keep her spirits up.
How, though? Sam was frustrated. She does nothing but cry.
Their marriage unravelled. Sam tried, but Sophie recoiled. She realised, too late, she had forgotten Sams loss was just as real as hers. Divorce followed once they got home. Over time, the pain dulled. Almost a year later, they bumped into each other in court. The bitterness had ebbed away; there were memories of friendship and an understanding few could touch. They talked into the night, remembering summers on her parents allotment, firing slingshots at apples. When Sam asked her to marry him again, Sophie promised to think it over though now, there could never be children.
Thats what I decided, Sophie said, pushing the file away. I cant put him through that. He always wanted a family.
But are you certain? Theres definitely no hope? Victoria gently touched the file.
Nearly none. The doctor says its almost impossible.
But still, almost isnt never, right? Try first cry after, if you must.
Sophie hugged her.
Thank you, Victoria. How do you know so much? All this wisdom, when youre so young?
Good teachers, I suppose, Victoria smiled, putting the kettle on.
Sophie leaned back, wiping her eyes.
Youve never told me why its only you and your dad. What happened to your mum? Since were confessing secrets lets make it an even trade.
