Let them think I’ve been unbelievably lucky in life.
Emily despised her name, and her surname, Ferrett, was even worse. Kids could be merciless, and by the time she was in primary school, her classmates had already branded her “Ferrety.” She’d stare into the mirror, wishing for long blonde hair like Victoria Ashford’s, legs as slender as Lucy Chamberlain’s, or even parents as well-off as those of the plain-faced troublemaker Natalie Bell, who got picked up from school in a Lexus. “Why did Mum have to marry someone with such a dreadful surname?” she’d fume. “When I marry, it’ll be to someone with a proper name—better yet, something foreign.”
Her dark, unruly curls always escaped from under hats and clips, no matter how hard she tried to tame them. Her grey-blue eyes stood out beautifully against her olive skin, but Emily hated them too.
Mum was an accountant at the local hospital, and Dad drove a bus. Money was always tight. Dad was saving for a car, so he grumbled over every penny spent. “No need for fancy clothes, we’re not made of money,” he’d snap if she wore something new. More often than not, she had to make do with hand-me-downs from her cousin. The rare new outfits only came if they didn’t fit her cousin first. It was exhausting. If only she had normal parents, nobody would call her Ferrety.
Just before her A-levels, Auntie Nell—Dad’s sister—came to visit. She worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy family in Italy. One night, as they lay side by side in Emily’s room, Nell whispered, “Fancy going there? I could sort it for you.”
Emily’s heart raced. “Of course!”
“Keep it down. Your dad won’t approve. Are you eighteen yet?”
“Turned it in January.”
“Good. No need for parental permission then. Do as I say, and you’ll be fine. Your dad’s always been a miser.”
Nell looked every inch the refined Italian signora—you’d never guess she was just a housemaid. “Money’s what matters, not how you earn it,” she’d say.
Emily obsessed over the idea. Nell fronted the cash, saying Emily could repay her later.
She followed Nell’s plan to the letter. To keep her parents off her back, she enrolled in a hairdressing course—just for show. But when the call came from Italy, she dropped out, packed her things, left a note, and disappeared.
In Milan, Nell met her and took her to a grand house on the outskirts, where Emily was to care for an elderly woman in her eighties. “Don’t mess this up. No stealing. I vouched for you,” Nell warned the nervous runaway.
The mansion left the small-town girl speechless. She was given a tiny room next to the old lady’s. At least she didn’t have to rent a flat. For extra pay, she cleaned the house twice a week. Rarely leaving, Italy for her was just the walls of that house and the view of a perfectly manicured lawn. But it didn’t matter—just a year, then she’d move on. She’d save, learn the language, figure something out.
Like her father, she became a miser. There was nowhere to spend money anyway. When the owners were out, she’d snap selfies in the lavish living room and post them online. “Let them think I’ve been unbelievably lucky in life.”
Former classmates liked and envied her. Nobody called her Ferrety now—they used her name, asking how she’d ended up there. She kept her answers vague.
Then, an old classmate, James, commented on her photos. They started messaging. He told her he worked at his dad’s garage, earned decent money, had just bought an Audi. He even posted a picture of himself with a sleek red car.
Soon, he was writing more about love. He missed her, wondered when she’d return. She dodged, saying Italy was amazing and she wasn’t coming back. She knew it was her “Italian dream” that had caught his eye, but he insisted he’d always fancied her, even back in Year 7. She remembered catching his glances in class. She wanted to believe him. So she did.
One evening, the owners left for a gala. The old lady was asleep. Emily sneaked into the wardrobe and tried on dresses. A red one with thin straps fit perfectly. The Italian woman was lean, flat-chested—Emily, though, had curves in all the right places. For the first time, she liked what she saw in the mirror.
She poured herself wine, snapped selfies in the fancy living room, and posted them with captions like, “Back from an evening out… too tired to change. Just a glass of wine to unwind…”
She drank one glass, then another, and passed out on the sofa in the evening gown.
The lady of the house woke her with furious shouting. The rapid Italian flew over Emily’s head—until the woman jabbed a bony finger toward the door. She was being kicked out. The lady even stormed to Emily’s room, threw her belongings into a heap, and shoved them at her.
Stuffing clothes into her suitcase, Emily caught her reflection in the mirror—still wearing that dress. A petty triumph. Too soon. The woman yanked her back, forced her to strip down to her underwear while the husband leered. Then, slowly, she pulled on her jeans and jumper. The man muttered something heated to his wife—probably pleading her case. The argument escalated.
Emily smirked, tossed her wild curls, and left without waiting for the end. As she walked Milan’s streets, she remembered the husband’s hungry stare. “Should’ve kicked your hag out sooner. Maybe I’d be the lady of the house now.”
With no Italian, no references, finding another job was hopeless. She called Nell, but she was away. A week’s wait? Where? Avoiding police, Emily decided to return to England. Nearly a year abroad, some savings—if Dad hadn’t bought his car yet, she’d help. A week at home, then maybe Nell would have another plan.
Stepping off the train, she was hit by the grime, cracked pavement, and shabby buildings. Reality clashed with memories of pristine Italy. Regret gnawed at her—until she heard English spoken and didn’t have to struggle to understand.
Outside the station, taxis and unlicensed cabs vied for customers. In one, she spotted James. He hesitated, then grinned.
“Why didn’t you say you were coming? I’d have picked you up properly.”
“Where’s the Audi? You lied?”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t have messaged back if I said I was just a mechanic fresh out of service, dreaming of an Audi. So I embellished. This is just a side gig.”
“Right.” She eyed the grown-up, handsome version of him.
“You’ve changed.”
“You’re even prettier.” He held her gaze. “Here to visit or for good?”
“We’ll see,” she deflected.
“Hop in. Just…” He hesitated.
“What? Something I should know?”
She’d been too stingy to call home.
“Your mum left your dad. Lives with some bloke. Dad’s drinking.” Emily’s face fell.
“Mum still at the hospital? Take me there.”
Silently, she watched the familiar, claustrophobic town scroll by. “He owned up about lying. I can’t. Ashamed I never really saw Italy, that I got sacked… I’ll think of something.”
“If you’ve nowhere to stay, come to mine. My folks are decent.”
“Thanks, James. We’ll see.”
Mum teared up seeing her safe—but didn’t invite her home.
“Look, Vova’s ten years younger. You’re so pretty now. I’m scared we’ll end up rivals. Sorry. Going to your dad? Be careful with money—leave it with me if you have any. He’ll take it. I couldn’t take his penny-pinching anymore. Vova buys me flowers just because.”
“It’s fine, Mum.”
She visited Dad but didn’t stay. Gave him money for drink, pitying him. His miserliness had been her second reason for fleeing. A few days with her cousin, then Nell called—she’d secured Emily a hotel maid job.
“Sure you won’t stay? Someone waiting for you?” James drove her to the airport.
“Nobody. I’ll work. Nell says it’s a hotel. Last year was care work. Photos were in the owners’ house when they were out. But no one calls me Ferrety now. They remember my name.” She laughed bitterly.
“The girls were jealous. Talked about you nonstop.”
“I lied. To you, to everyone—to seem better. Get it? I tricked you.” She waited for his anger.
“Phew. Thought you were out of my league. But you’re just like me.” He sighed in relief.
“You’re not mad?”
“Nah. ListenShe stepped onto the plane, clutching her phone full of carefully curated illusions, already drafting the next post in her head—because if she couldn’t be happy, at least she could make them believe she was.
