**Grandmothers Tale of Kate and Ellen**
Oh, my dears, gather closeIll tell you a story my old neighbour in the care home shared with me. My own family tucked me away here, so now all I do is listen to tales and pass them on. This ones about Kate, her husband Stan, and her sister Ellen. Oh, what a painful story it is. Listen carefully.
One evening, they sat together for dinnerKate, Stan, and Ellen. The roast filled the flat with warmth, and Stan raised his glass.
“To family! May it grow even stronger!”
But his eyes werent on Kate; they were fixed on Ellen. And Ellen? She fidgeted with her napkin, barely smiling, as if something was eating at her. Kate noticed everythinghow Stan held Ellens hand, how he laughed too hard at her jokes, how they fell silent when she entered the room. But she said nothing. Silence was her shield.
“To family,” Kate echoed, sipping her grape juice.
Ellen looked up, her eyes heavy with something unspoken.
“Ellen, are you alright?” Kate asked.
“Just tired,” Ellen brushed it off. “Works been mad.”
But Kate knew Ellens job was quiet this month. Still, she stayed silent. That was her way.
Stan coughed suddenly.
“Speaking of workIve been assigned a project up north. I leave in a month, for half a year, maybe longer.”
Kate went cold.
“Half a year?” she repeated. “What about our summer holiday?”
“Kate, this is my big break!” he insisted, eyes bright. “A real once-in-a-lifetime chance!”
He was talking to her, but staring at Ellen. Ellen, who was studying her plate like it held all the answers. And thenjust for a secondStans hand brushed Ellens under the table. Ellen jerked away like shed been burned. Kate sat there, watching her husband glow and her sister crumble.
Dinner ended awkwardly. Ellen claimed a headache and made to leave.
“Ill drive you,” Stan offered at once.
“Youre going the wrong way,” Kate pointed out.
“Nothings too much for family,” he dismissed.
At the door, he turned back, resolve in his eyes.
“We need to talk, Kate. Properly. When I get back.”
Then he was gone, leaving her alone with the smell of half-eaten food and a growing dread.
For two weeks, Kate moved through life like a ghost. Stan called every evening, rambling about his “project,” his new flat, the city. But his voice was hollow, rehearsed. Hed ask how she was, then tune out her answers. Kate reached for Ellen instead.
“Fancy the cinema? Or a bit of shopping?”
Ellen always slipped away.
“Im knackered, Kate. Rain check?”
She looked exhaustedthinner, shadows under her eyes. Kate noticed how Ellens hands lingered on her stomach, as if hiding something.
Suspicion crept in like poison. First, a pregnancy test wrapper in Ellens bin. Then, baggy jumpers, though Ellen had always loved showing off her curves. Kates chest tightened, but she waited.
The truth came on a Wednesday night. Kate was on the sofa when her phone rang. Stan.
“Hello,” she answered.
Silence. Just his breath.
“I cant lie anymore, Kate,” he finally choked out. “Its not the project. Its Ellen. Were in love.”
Kate shut her eyes. The pain in her chest hardened to stone.
“Your sisters pregnant! Its mine!” he blurted.
And thenKate laughed. Quiet at first, then louder, until tears streamed down her face. It wasnt joy. It was bitter, like something from a cheap telly drama.
“Kate? Are you crying?” Stan panicked.
“No,” she exhaled. “Im just realising what an idiot you are.”
She hung up. The hysteria faded, leaving clarity. The stone in her chest became a foundation. She dressed, called a cab, and went to Ellens.
Ellen opened the doorhair wild, eyes red. At the sight of Kate, she flinched.
“He told you? Im so sorry”
“Where is he?” Kate cut in, calm and terrifying.
Ellen froze. Kate scanned the flatStans jacket, his trainers, two wine glasses on the table.
“Stop lying, Ellen. Just this once.”
“Kate, we love each other!” Ellen burst out. “I know its awful, but it justhappened!”
Kate waited until she ran out of words.
“Youre pregnant,” she said, not asking.
“Yes,” Ellen whispered, cradling her stomach. “Were having a baby.”
Kate stepped closer. Ellen braced for shouting.
“Why didnt you ask me, Ellen?” Kate asked softly. “I couldve told you. Stan and I tried for three years. Tests, doctors. Hes sterile. Completely.”
Ellens face shiftedshock, denial, horror.
“No He saidhe said it was you”
“Course he did,” Kate smiled sadly. “Easier to lie. Easier to steal a life than face the truth.”
She turned to leave.
“Congrats, sis. Youre having a baby. But my husbands not the father.”
The door slammed. The night air was crisp. Kate breathed it in deep.
Five years passed. Wounds healed. Kate learned Italian, changed careers, moved to a seaside town. Now she sat in a café, stirring her coffee, waiting for Andrewthey were adopting a rescue pup.
Then the door chimed. In walked Ellen with a little boy. Gaunt, tired, in a faded jumper. She saw Kate and froze, ready to bolt, but her son tugged her toward the cakes.
“Mum, the berry one!”
Ellen sat as far as she could, but Kate felt her staring. The stone in her chest had long crumbled, leaving just a quiet ache. The boysweet, fair-hairedlooked nothing like Stan or Ellen.
Suddenly, Ellen approached.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Hi, Ellen.”
“I didnt know youd be here How are you?”
Kate shrugged.
“Good.”
Ellen fidgeted.
“Kate, Im sorry. I was such a fool.”
She wanted forgiveness, tears, something. But Kate just said,
“Its in the past, Ellen. Live your life.”
Ellen cried then, realisingshe was just a ghost to Kate now. The door chimed again. Andrew walked in with daisies.
“Sorry Im late,” he grinned, handing them over. Spotting Ellen: “Everything alright?”
“Fine,” Kate smiled. “Shes just leaving.”
Ellen turned back to her son. Kate breathed in the scent of flowers. Everything had fallen into place. Her path led to the sea, the sun, and a man who brought her daisies for no reason at all.
