On that summer day by the river…
The Fairweather family was close-knit. When Emily was in Year Three, her sister Lily was born. Emily adored her role as the eldest sister and her mother’s little helper. She happily pushed the pram while her mother cooked supper or tidied the flat.
When Lily was old enough for nursery, she couldn’t get in—the classes were overcrowded and understaffed. No one wanted to work with children for pennies. The headmistress agreed to take Lily only if their mother worked there. She agreed, though it meant taking a pay cut from her old job.
Lily had always been sickly and frail, coddled by everyone. At nursery, she stayed under their mother’s watchful eye. After school, Emily often dropped by to visit. Most children turned their noses up at the nursery’s baked custard, veggie salads, cocoa, and jelly—but Emily loved them. Her mother saved the untouched portions for her, and she ate her fill.
Once she’d had her fill of custard, she’d take Lily home and mind her until their mother returned. She loved Lily dearly—though later, her sister grew into a right handful.
Lily was four when their father died. The summer had been sweltering, with temperatures above ninety for weeks. On weekends, families fled the stifling city for the countryside, some to cottages, others to the riverbanks.
Their parents packed sandwiches and jugs of water and took the girls to the river early. The banks were packed—you couldn’t swing a cat. Everyone sought relief in the sun-warmed water, splashing and laughing near the shallows. Lily waded close to the edge, while Emily kept an eye out, making sure no one jostled her or let her wander too deep.
When their father dove in with a running leap, sending up a spray, Emily assumed he was just cooling off. He swam farther out—and that’s when she spotted the two lads in the middle of the river.
At first, she thought they were mucking about. She wondered how their parents could let them swim so far. The river was wide; even a grown man would struggle to cross it. But there they were, halfway.
One kept sinking under, the other diving after him. Only when she saw her father swimming toward them did she realize—they weren’t playing. One was drowning, the other trying to keep him afloat.
No one else noticed. The river was alive with laughter and splashing. Emily’s gaze fixed on her father, her grip on Lily forgotten.
He reached the lads, grabbed one, and hauled him up. With one arm, he paddled back, keeping the boy’s head above water. The other lad, exhausted, clung to him, dragging him down.
“He’ll drown them both!” Emily shouted.
Two men turned at her cry. They followed her pointing finger, understood, and rushed to help. Others on the bank turned to look.
The men took the lads from her father. Emily waved, relieved—then realized she couldn’t see him anymore. She squinted till her eyes burned, but he was gone.
“Dad! Dad!” she screamed.
Her mother ran over.
“There—” Emily pointed at the river’s centre. Terror choked her words. “He’s gone!”
Her mother scooped up Lily, scanning the water. “There he is,” she kept saying, but Emily shook her head, pointing again. Meanwhile, the men dragged the lads ashore, then dove back for her father.
When they pulled him out, he was gone. Her mother refused to believe it, refused to leave. Emily soothed the wailing Lily.
After the funeral, her mother drifted through the flat like a ghost. Emily took Lily to nursery, rushed to school, fetched her sister after. Lily whined, “I want Mum to pick me up.”
“Mum’s poorly,” Emily said.
“Then I want Dad.”
At home, Emily found her mother just as she’d left her—curled on the sofa, facing the wall.
She wasn’t eating. Frightened, Emily begged the neighbour for help. After a firm talk, her mother got up, cleaned, cooked. A day later, she returned to work—to Lily’s delight.
Now it was just the three of them. At first, they managed. The railway, where their father had worked, gave them a small stipend. They had some savings, and the nursery helped—her mother brought home leftovers. Emily suspected she went hungry to feed them.
After her A-levels, Emily decided against university—she’d work instead. But her mother wouldn’t hear of it. “Your father wouldn’t want this,” she said. “At least take evening courses. A degree opens doors.” So Emily enrolled part-time, choosing the course with the most scholarships. She didn’t care what she studied—as her mother said, “With a certificate, you’ll find something.”
Years before, their father had bought land, dreaming of a big house, a garden. He’d only laid the foundation when he died. A friend offered to buy the plot. Their mother, relieved, sold it cheap. The money stretched a while.
Lily grew up demanding—new clothes, a mobile, a tablet. “All my friends have them!” If refused, she’d scream, “I wish I’d never been born!” She even ran off twice. The world revolved around her.
“Are we paupers? I won’t eat nursery scraps,” she’d sniff.
Unlike Emily, she never visited their mother after school. She roamed with friends till dark, her grades in tatters.
One summer, their neighbour’s nephew, Oliver, visited. Emily fell for him—but his leave ended too soon. He begged her to come to London. She wanted to, but how could she leave her mother with Lily? So she refused. He left, promising to call.
By winter, Lily wanted a fur coat like her friend’s. She threw tantrums.
“If I wanted something, I worked for it,” Emily said. “Delivered papers, mopped floors at the post office. Try it.”
Lily sulked, called her stingy, threatened to run away.
Their mother borrowed money and bought the coat.
“Why indulge her?” Emily said. “She’ll never stop.”
“She’s growing up without a father. Who’ll spoil her but me?”
“Mum, she’s healthy as a horse. Preens all day, stays out till midnight. You’ve worn that same coat for years. Everything for poor Lily! One day, she’ll ruin you.”
Emily regretted staying. She couldn’t stand her sister’s antics.
Oliver called, even visited at Christmas. Somehow, Lily finished school—but with dismal marks, she didn’t bother with uni. She just loafed about.
Next summer, Oliver returned. Emily’s leave was denied—no kids, she’d wait till autumn. She saw him only evenings, weekends.
Then abruptly, he left. “Friends invited me rafting.” Emily was gutted. He left midday—her boss wouldn’t let her see him off.
That evening, she found a note: *Gone to London. Want to be an actress. Talent matters, not grades. Don’t look for me.* And—*Sorry I took the emergency cash.*
Emily put two and two together. Lily was pretty—no surprise Oliver fancied her. She called him. He confessed. “Send her home,” Emily demanded.
“I’ll take care of her,” he promised.
Their mother came home to Emily in tears.
“Where’s Lily?”
“Ran off with Oliver. To London.” She showed the note.
“You always coddled her. Poor fatherless girl! She took our savings. I clothed her, fed her—and this is her thanks? Too young to work, but old enough to steal a man.”
“Find her,” her mother begged. “She’ll come to harm alone in London.”
“I won’t go. She’ll come back.”
“Has she said she will?”
Emily gave a bitter laugh.
Lily did return—a year later, with a squalling bundle. Their mother was at work.
“Her name’s Grace,” Lily said wearily. “Nappies, formula, and papers in the bag.”
“Whose child is this? Oliver’s?”
Lily turned to leave.
“Wait!” Emily grabbed her. “You’re leaving her?”
“You’ll care for her better.”
Her calm tone stunned Emily. The door slammed.
“Why didn’t you stop her?” their mother wailed later.
“And leave the baby alone? I’m not Lily. She named her Grace—like a stray cat.” Emily handed her the papers—a signed adoption waiver.
Lily returned six years later. Grace shrank from her, clinging to Emily.
“Mum, why’s she staring?”
“You’re pretty, that’s all.”
Alone, Emily hissed, “Why come back? She’s mine now. Leave.”
Lily looked haggard. She chain-smoked by the kitchen window, coughing.
“Stay the night?” she asked.
“Of course!” their mother said.
That night, Emily found her at theShe watched her sister disappear into the dawn, just as she had all those years ago by the river, and wondered if she’d ever see her again.
