**Grandma’s Tale of Emily and Lucy**
Oh, my dears, gather close, and I’ll tell you a story my neighbor in the care home shared with me. They tucked me away here in my old age, so now I spend my days listening to tales and passing them on. This one’s about Emily, her husband James, and her sister Lucy. Oh, what a painful story it is—listen well.
They were sitting down to dinner one evening—Emily, James, and Lucy, her sister. Roast beef filled the flat with its rich scent, and James raised his glass.
“To family!” he toasted. “May it grow even stronger!”
But his eyes weren’t on Emily—they were fixed on Lucy. And Lucy just fidgeted with her napkin, barely smiling, as if something gnawed at her. Emily noticed it all—how James handed Lucy her coat, how he laughed at her jokes, how they fell silent when she entered the room. But she said nothing. Silence was her shield.
“To family,” Emily echoed, sipping her grape juice.
Lucy looked up, her eyes heavy with sorrow—enough to send a chill down Emily’s spine.
“Lucy, are you alright?” she asked.
“Just tired, work’s been mad,” Lucy brushed it off.
But Emily knew her sister’s job was quiet just then. Still, she stayed silent. Silence had always been her refuge.
James suddenly coughed.
“Speaking of work—I’ve been assigned a project in another city. I leave in a month, for six months, maybe longer.”
Emily froze.
“Six months?” she repeated. “What about our summer holiday?”
“Em, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance!” he insisted, his voice bright.
He was speaking to her, but his gaze lingered on Lucy. And Lucy stared at her plate as if the answers lay there. Emily saw it—James’s hand covering Lucy’s under the table. Just for a second. Lucy jerked away as if burned. But Emily just sat there, watching her husband beam and her sister on the verge of crumbling.
Dinner ended awkwardly. Lucy claimed a headache and gathered her things to leave.
“I’ll drive you,” James offered at once.
“You’re going the opposite way,” Emily pointed out.
“Nothing’s too much for family,” he dismissed.
At the door, he turned back, resolve in his eyes.
“We need to talk, Em. Properly. When I get back.”
He left her alone with the smell of an unfinished meal and dread in her chest.
For two weeks, Emily moved through life as if in a fog. James called every evening, rambling about the “project,” the new city, the flat. But his voice was distant, rehearsed. He asked how she was but never listened to the answers. Emily reached out to Lucy.
“Fancy the cinema or some shopping?”
But Lucy always slipped away.
“Too knackered, Em. Another time.”
Lucy looked exhausted—thinner, shadows under her eyes. Emily noticed how her sister’s hand often rested on her stomach, as if hiding something.
Suspicion grew slowly, like poison. First, the pregnancy test box in Lucy’s bin. Then the baggy jumpers, though Lucy had always flaunted her waist. Emily’s heart clenched, but she waited.
The truth came on a Wednesday evening. Emily was on the sofa when the phone rang. James.
“Hello,” she answered.
He was silent except for his breathing.
“I can’t lie anymore, Em,” he finally blurted. “I’m not coming back. It’s not about the project. It’s Lucy. We’re in love.”
Emily closed her eyes. The pain in her chest hardened into stone.
“Your sister’s pregnant!” he rushed out. “We’re having a baby!”
And then Emily laughed—first quietly, then louder, until tears streamed down her face. It wasn’t a happy laugh; it was bitter, like something from a cheap soap opera.
“Em, are you crying?” James panicked.
“No,” she exhaled. “I just realised what a fool you are.”
She hung up. The hysteria faded, leaving icy clarity. The stone in her chest became strength. She dressed, called a taxi, and went to Lucy’s.
Lucy opened the door—dishevelled, in a dressing gown, eyes red. She saw Emily and stepped back.
“He told you? I’m sorry—”
“Where is he?” Emily cut in, eerily calm.
Lucy faltered. Emily scanned the flat—James’s jacket, his trainers, two wine glasses on the table.
“Stop lying, Lucy. Right now.”
“Em, we love each other!” Lucy burst out. “I know it’s awful, but it just happened!”
Emily waited until her sister ran out of words.
“You’re pregnant,” she stated, not asking.
“Yes,” Lucy whispered, covering her stomach. “We’re having a baby.”
Emily stepped closer. Lucy flinched, bracing for shouting.
“Why didn’t you ask me, Lucy?” Emily said softly. “I could’ve told you. James and I tried for three years. Tests, doctors. He’s sterile. Completely.”
Lucy’s face shifted—shock, denial, horror.
“No… He said the problem was you—”
“Of course,” Emily smiled sadly. “Easier to lie. Easier to steal someone else’s life than face the truth.”
She turned to leave.
“Congratulations, sis. You’re having a baby. But my husband isn’t the father.”
The door slammed. The night air was crisp. Emily breathed it in deeply.
Five years passed. The wounds healed. Emily learned a new language, changed jobs, moved to a seaside town. She sat in a café, stirring her coffee, waiting for Andrew—they’d planned to adopt a puppy from the shelter.
Then the door chimed—Lucy walked in with a little boy. Thin, weary, in a grey jumper. She saw Emily and froze, ready to leave, but her son tugged toward the cakes.
“Mum, I want the one with berries!”
Lucy sat far away, but Emily felt her stare. The stone in her chest had long crumbled; only a faint sadness remained. The boy, sweet and fair-haired, looked nothing like James or Lucy.
Lucy suddenly approached.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Hi, Lucy.”
“I didn’t know you lived here… How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Emily shrugged.
Lucy hesitated.
“Em, I’m sorry. I was stupid.”
She waited for forgiveness, tears, something. But Emily just said,
“It’s all in the past, Lucy. Live your life.”
Lucy cried then, realising—to Emily, she was just a ghost. The door chimed again. Andrew walked in with daisies.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, handing her the flowers. He spotted Lucy. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” Emily smiled. “This lady was just leaving.”
Lucy turned to her son. Emily breathed in the scent of daisies. Everything had fallen into place. Her path now led to the sea, the sun, and a man who brought her flowers just because.
