Two people sharing a flat? No way!
Ill put the flat in Megans name and move in with you. Youre living alone anyway, says Grace, not even asking.
Whose deepvoiced man is that on the line? Her tone is sharp, as if Poppy were thirteen, not thirtytwo.
Just TV, Mum. What do you want? Poppy tries to end the call quickly.
We need to talk. Seriously, insists her mother, and hangs up. Typical of her she points out problems but never asks.
Arthur! Poppy shouts, flinging the phone onto the sofa.
Whats happened? He comes from the kitchen, two mugs of tea in his hands.
My mothers coming this evening.
Should I stay?
No need. Ill handle it myself
**Ghosts of the Past**
Memories are like photos in an album some fade, but the core stays clear. Poppy is eleven when her parents split. Her sister Megan still plays with dolls, while Poppy has already learned to read the adults subtext.
I cant do this anymore, Jean, her father says. Its not a marriage any more, just a shadow of one.
And the children? Her mothers voice clinks like glass.
After the divorce, Dad silently packs his things. His favourite armchair, the chipped mug, even his books disappear one by one.
Poppy becomes the bridge between two worlds: Mums strictness and Dads calm. Megan simply decides Dad is a traitor and Mum a martyr.
**Adult Life**
Poppy moves to London for university. She studies hard, works harder determined to own her own flat someday. Megan takes a few courses, becomes a nail technician, and marries almost immediately.
Dad dies, leaving only fond memories and an empty space.
Mum contacts Poppy only to demand money or complain:
Megans pregnant, help her. Gary earns little, and the salon never really employs her properly
Poppy sighs, exhausted.
She knew what she was getting into. That was her choice.
**Her Own Nest**
A few years later, Poppy buys her dream flat. All on her own, with sweat and tears.
Lovely flat, her mother remarks, looking around. Something like this would do Megan well. Instead of a student hall with a baby And youre sitting here alone in this palace. Thats not fair.
Because Megan always thought she was owed something. Ive worked for this.
Later, years on, a surprise visit arrives:
Ive decided the flat goes to Megan. Im moving in with you, her mother says with a smile, inspecting every corner.
No, Poppy replies tersely. This is my flat.
What do you mean no? Ive already decided!
Then go stay with Megan. This isnt a hotel.
Youre as cold as your father!
Thanks. He loved me and never set conditions.
The door slams. Silence and relief remain.
A message flashes on her phone:
How did it go?
Poppy smiles:
Come over. Ill teach you how to make tiramisu.
