Goodness always makes a comeback
Emily, at least give the kids a cuppa! said Rachel, pressing her younger daughter close. Weve been on the road since five in the morning.
Her cousin Margaret stood in the doorway of her flat, blocking the entrance with a perfectly polite smile.
Rachel, I have guests coming soon. Youre off to the station in an hour, right?
Two hours. My train leaves at nine at night.
Right, and Ive got people arriving at seven. Sorry, I didnt plan for this.
Emilys older daughter, sixyearold Lucy, tugged at her mothers sleeve.
Mum, I need a minute.
Rachel, can we at least use the loo?
Margaret grudgingly stepped aside. Emily and the children squeezed into the hallway. The flat was posh modern décor, leather sofas, a huge flatscreen TV mounted on the wall.
Quickly, okay? Rachel glanced anxiously at her watch.
While Lucy was in the bathroom, threeyearold Anna popped her head out.
Mum, Im hungry.
Hold on, love. Well grab something at the station.
Rachel turned away, pretending not to hear. The kitchen wafted the smell of fried chicken.
Why didnt you take Kostya? she asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.
Hes working. Couldnt swap shifts.
Got it. Still stuck in the village?
Not exactly. They havent handed over the flat yet.
Rachel made a face as if Emily had said something rude.
Lucy emerged from the bathroom. Emily grabbed her bags.
Well, were off. Thanks for letting us in.
Dont mention it. Have a safe journey.
The door shut behind them with a click. Outside, a dreary drizzle settled in. Forty minutes by bus to Victoria station, and the kids were soaked by the time they reached the stop.
Mum, why didnt Aunt Martha feed us? Lucy asked.
Shes busy, dear. She has guests.
Are we not guests?
Emily didnt know what to answer. Once, she and Rachel had been as close as sisters, sharing secrets and growing up together. Then Martha married a businessman, moved to London, and became a stranger.
The station was chilly. Emily found an empty bench in the waiting hall and sat the children down.
Stay here. Ill go check the train.
A queue snaked to the ticket office. Emily slipped to the back, rummaged for her documents. Anna began to cry tired and hungry. Lucy tried to soothe her, but she herself was on the brink of tears.
Arent you a local? a woman in her forties asked, standing nearby. She was plump, with a kind face.
No, Im from Dorset. Heading home.
Do you have children?
Theyre over there on the bench.
The woman glanced over, frowned, and said, My word, theyre drenched and bawling. What happened?
Emily couldnt hold back. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
We stopped at my sisters thought shed at least give us a bite. Weve been without food since five in the morning.
The woman, determined, took Emily by the arm. Come on. Do you have your tickets?
Yes, I do.
Ill buy them for you. Just feed the kids for now.
No, I can manage
Dont argue. Im Natalie, I work at the railway medical centre. Ill be on shift all night anyway.
She led Emily and the children into a tiny staff room modest but warm, with a kettle, microwave and fridge.
Have a seat. Well sort everything.
Natalie fetched containers from the fridge. Heres soup yesterdays but still tasty and meatballs with barley, plus some bread. Dig in, dont be shy.
The children lunged at the food. Emily fought back tears of gratitude.
Thank you. I dont know how to repay you
Oh, stop it. Youve got two little whirlwinds. I know how it feels with kids on a road trip. And your sister? She didnt even think of feeding us?
Emily waved her hand. She had guests. We were in the way.
Good guests, Natalie chuckled. God will sort them out. Eat, and Ill sort the tickets.
Fifteen minutes later she returned, tickets in hand. The children were still polishing off their meals, warming up and laughing.
Your seats are low down in the middle of the carriage. The train is on time, boarding starts in an hour.
How much do I owe you?
Nothing. Its my gift to a weary mum.
Natalie, I cant
You can. Heres my number. Call me when youre in London. Youve got a real sister now.
From that day on they phoned each other regularly. Natalie became the sister Emily had lost when Martha drifted away. They swapped news, asked advice and kept each other company.
A year later Natalie confessed, Emily, Im ill. Its a terminal condition stage three.
Emilys world tilted. She wanted to rush to London, but Natalie refused. Dont. You have family, kids. Ill manage.
Her voice grew weaker each call, until finally she told the truth. I have a girl, Sophie. Shes ten. Not my own, but my niece. My sister died while giving birth, and I took her in, never officially registered her.
God, Natalie
If anything happens to me, therell be no relatives left. Sophie will be taken to a childrens home.
Dont be ridiculous! Youll get better!
Both knew miracles werent on the menu.
Natalie passed away in February. Emily attended the funeral. Sophie, a thin girl with huge eyes, stood alone by the coffin while social workers prepared papers for a childrens home.
Come with us, Emily said, hugging the girl. Youll live with us.
Can I? Sophie’s eyes flickered with hope.
Of course. Youre my sisters daughter, which makes you my niece.
Emilys motherinlaw met them at the doorstep, flinging a glare. Are you mad? We can barely manage our two, and now you bring in a stranger!
She isnt a stranger, Mum, intervened Chris, Emilys husband. Emily did the right thing.
Two rooms for five people? Have you lost the plot?
Emily stood firm. Sophie stays. End of story.
The first months were hellish cramped quarters, tight finances, clashing tempers. Lucy and Anna were jealous at first, then got used to it. Sophie tried to stay out of the way, helped with chores, babysat the younger ones.
Then a miracle. Chriss old friend, a lorry driver named Steve, offered his vacant house on the outskirts. My mothers gone, Im not using it. Move in while you wait for a proper flat. No rent.
The house was old but sturdy, four bedrooms, a garden, a shed a welcome escape from the suffocating inlaws flat.
Dad, look! We have our own garden now! Lucy ran around the plot.
And we can hang a swing! Anna added.
Sophie lingered, staring in disbelief.
Come over here, Emily called. Pick a room. Youre the oldest.
Really?
Absolutely. Youre now our eldest daughter.
Sophie threw her arms around Emilys neck and wept, Aunt Natalie always said youre the kindest person on earth. She was right.
Life bubbled in that house. Chris repaired the roof after work, painted the fence. Emily tended the garden. The girls helped, laughing together.
Neighbors stared. All your daughters?
All ours, Chris replied proudly.
A year later a threebed flat in a new development became available.
Are we moving? Sophie asked, voice trembling.
Were all moving together, Emily hugged her. Were family.
The new flat had enough space for everyone. Sophie got her own room, Lucy and Anna shared another, and Chris and Emily had theirs.
They still gathered often at Sophies place, where she told bedtime stories and helped with homework.
Mum, can we just call Sophie a sister, not a stepsister? Lucy asked one day.
She already is, the older sister, Emily replied.
Perfect!
At Sophies graduation, the whole family turned up. She received a gold medal and a place at university to study medicine on a scholarship.
Ill be a doctor, like Aunt Natalie, she said. Ill help people.
After the ceremony, Sophie approached Emily.
Mum, may I say something?
Go on, love.
Thank you for everything. You and Dad gave me a real family.
It was Aunt Natalie who brought us together, Emily said, eyes shining. She knew we needed each other.
That evening, while celebrating at home, Emily pulled out an old photograph of herself and Natalie at the station a souvenir of that first meeting.
Girls, listen up, she began. Being kind to strangers matters. Kindness always circles back.
She recounted the day with the unwelcoming Martha, the hungry children, and the woman who wouldnt walk past anothers misery.
If it hadnt been Aunt Natalie, we wouldnt be this big family. We wouldnt have Sophie. Remember a single good deed can change many lives.
Mom, do you still talk to Aunt Martha? Anna asked.
No. She doesnt even know you have an older sister. She wont recognise it. Blood isnt everything. Family is who stands by you when its hard, who wont walk past you, who feeds the hungry and warms the cold.
Sophie hugged Emily. Like Aunt Natalie?
Exactly like Aunt Natalie. And like all of us, for each other.
Outside, rain fell just as it had on that first bleak station day, but inside the house glowed with the warmth of a genuine, sprawling family that began with a simple act of kindness.
Emily felt certain that Natalie was looking down, smiling. Her kindness lived on in their lives, in their love for one another, and in the belief that good always finds its way back often in the most unexpected form.
