Family Heirloom
No! Dont try to talk me out of it, Mum! Im doing it, whether you like it or not!
Emma, why? Tell me, why on earth do you need this?
Because, he walks into the room a full minute before I do! Because I cant even look at myself in the mirror! Ill never have a normal life, MumIll never marry, never have children! Honestly, Mum! Dont you get it?! Emma burst into tears and chucked her hairbrush at the unsuspecting Percival.
Percival, who had been industriously savaging a cushion above which the argument was unfolding, paused. Emma had stitched that very cushion herself, meant as a gift for her gran, but the great family feud had left such gestures impossible. So now the embroidered roses on velvet belonged to Emma, and occasionally fell victim to Percival, the mischief-maker of the Bennett household.
Percival owed his privileged position squarely to Emma; she considered it her solemn duty to civilise the stubborn beast shed once rescued from a pack of rowdy local lads, who had decided that a stray moggy was fair game for torment. When Emma, polite and ever-so-slight, asked, What do you think youre doing? she was promptly ignored.
Big mistake. While Emma looked gentlesheet music case and alljust as her mother would hope, her father had other ideas when raising her. The result: a black belt in karate and a shelfful of gleaming trophies. Emma loathed dusting them, resenting that scattered dust would remind her, yet again, of all her outstanding accomplishments. Her mother refused to let her hide them away, certain they were good for Emmas self-esteem.
That black belt had been rather handy on the day the boys learned a lesson and retreated in disgrace, leaving Emma with a scrappy, balding kitten with a rather sorry, naked tail. The tail soon blossomed, and the scraggy stray transformed into a grand, plush cat, liable to believe Emma belonged to him. Percival, delighted with his new station, seemed to think that the world owed him a living and that occasional ear-scratches were a fair price for the occasional chaos he caused.
The very day Percival earned his place in the family, Emma had trudged home from the Royal Academy, harried and bristling. She was prepping for a big competition, but every time her fingers touched the piano keys and Alexander, her course mate, walked in, she fell to bits. Funny how Alexander, whom shed known since schooldays, could now feel like such an alien presenceunexpected, inexplicable, and unnervingly captivating. After a brief summer apart, meeting again made Emma giddy and sheepish.
Alexander had squeezed her shoulder in his old friendly fashion, telling some story to classmates, and Emma froze in thrall to a strange and blinding happiness, grateful for the warmth of his palm. Shed have normally twisted away, delivering a faux-annoyed smack to the back of his head, but this time she just wanted to stand there, soaking up the moment.
Of course, when Alexander dashed off again, waving fresh sheet music and grandly announcing his return, Emma scolded herself for being so daft. Really, what utter nonsense!
But the feeling wouldnt go away after that; now she kept catching glimpses of her prince and dropping her gaze, flustered whenever he so much as glanced round.
It was both excruciating and exquisite. She desperately wished to confess everything, only to quake at the thought of doing so. Just contemplating it made her head spin and her fingers cold.
Emma was suffering, all right.
She didnt dare breathe a word to anyone. Her mother simply wouldnt understandor at least, thats what Emma told herself. It didnt matter either way; telling her mother about her first love was simply unthinkable.
Emmas relationship with her mother was complicated. There was love, certainlyenough to make one shakebut equally, both of them knew they possessed tempers from the Lord Himself. Which meant that sometimes, you bit your tongue, and sometimes, things just exploded. Their rows didnt involve plate-throwing or shouting. No, in this house, rows consisted of quietly closing doors in one anothers faces, after which a heavy silence reigned.
Cultural annihilation, Gran used to call it, before the big row that split the family. Shed sigh, Phenomenal stupidity!
Emma secretly agreed, but tradition was tradition, so she kept it up. Usually, she’d be the first to break the ice, restoring a fragile peace at home.
One thing Emma knew for certain: her mother loved her, loved her so fiercely that it sometimes ached. For Mrs Albina Bennett, nothing in this world mattered more than her daughter, and Emma knew it. She also sensed her mother would barricade her from any harm, wrapping her up in bubble wrap and stashing her away from the world if she could.
Mrs Bennett shielded her daughter to the best of her abilitieswhich meant Emmas world consisted mainly of home, music practice, and the odd family outing. Shed never been on a school camping trip, never saw schoolmates outside the classroom. Her only friends were handpicked children of her mums acquaintances, as suitable companions, though Emma found their company deeply unappealing.
Lara, for instance, never missed an opportunity to tease Emma with sometimes witty, but often hurtful, nicknames. And Sama proper little terrorhad, on their first meeting, twisted the head clean off Emmas favourite teddy, pronouncing, Serves it right! Why, or what for, Emma never understood, but ever after, she howled whenever Sam came near.
Oh, such a shame they never got along! Theyd make a gorgeous couple! Sams mother would sigh, fussing over Emma, though the girl always sensed the falseness.
Albina, dont crush her spirit, Gran would scold. Let her choose! Deny her now, and shell always feel inadequate.
Oh, dont go on, Margaret! Mrs Bennett would snap back. Shes just a child! She cant choose yet. Its my responsibilitymy choice.
Just dont leave it too long. Dont ever believe your child is merely your property.
Why did Emma remember this conversation so clearly? She didnt know. But it left such an impression that, every time her mum became overbearing, Emma would mutter, Mum, Im not your property!
Which, of course, drove Albina up the wall. “Stop parroting what others say! Use your own head!”
“I have one!” Emma would sulk, silence descending once more.
Emma had to stop seeing her gran after the famously catastrophic family row. Who was right? Who was wrong? Emma stopped speculating. They were all to blame.
And Gran well, having not entirely understood what happened, shed cast aspersions at Albina, You shouldve watched your nerves while carrying the baby! All this business about sensitive soulsutter nonsense! Some people only think of themselves! Given her own health, that was bold.
And Mumshed made life hellish for Emma and her dad when she was pregnant again: tantrums in the middle of the night, sprawling on the floor and sobbing, How could you all be so heartless?!
None of them really understood what Mum wanted. They tiptoed about, did their best to avoid upsetting Albina, but it was all to no avail. Mum lost the baby quite late, after a doctors wrong prescription, but no one wanted to discuss it, or place blame. All, that is, except Gran Margaret, who said, You need an expert this time. Why didnt you ask me? Pride or foolishness? You always do things your way, and this is the result. Its not just you whos lost: Ive lost my grandchild too. No blamejust brutal honesty.
Gran Margaret ended up in hospital after thathypertension, they saidwhile Albina never forgave her for speaking her mind.
Emmas father had tried patching up the family, only to eventually resign himself to the fact that you cant reason with two women forged of such stubbornness. He decided to let these volcanoes cool off in their own time.
That cooling off took some time. Emma missed her gran terribly, but dared not defy her mother, who had become even more possessive and focused on her one remaining child.
Mum, why didnt you try again? You always wanted a son, didnt you? Emma asked tentatively one day. Her mothers look made it abundantly clear that this subject should never, ever be raised againfury enough to sweep the family off its axis.
Gran might have been the only confidant for Emmas secret, but she was now far away, having sold her London flat and bought a cottage in Brighton.
Its for the best, son. Everyone will have more peace, she said before leaving. Emmas dad visited her twice a year; this was accepted by all as the natural order, but Albina wouldnt dream of letting Emma go.
I wont have her turned against me!
Emma hated this, but she loved her parents and did her best not to rock the boat.
She kept a photo of her gran tucked into her favourite novel, and would peek at her in secret, marvelling at how the photographer had managed to make Gran look so strikingand pondering how, every time Emma looked in the mirror, she felt like weeping.
Her nosethe family nose. Remarkable and, as Gran said, outrageously splendid.
Emma clung only to remarkable. She saw nothing splendid in it.
Its just enormous! Larawhom Emma hadnt seen in nearly a decadegasped at their accidental reunion, even reaching out to prod Emmas nose. Sorry, but its just so funny! A real-life Pinocchio! Does it get in the way when you snog? Oh! Seriously, Em? Never? Youve never even had a boyfriend? At your age? Blimey!
Emma had no idea how she held back. Shed have loved to drag Lara by that perfect head of hair until she was bald.
Who was she to make remarks like that to Emma?! Not a friendnot even a real acquaintance, really. Lara had lived in Spain for the past five years, only returning for family visits, and this particular reunion had been Albinas idea, foisted on Emma at the very last second.
Darling, you cant not see each other after all this time!
Honestly, Mum, Id rather not! Whats the point?
Emma! Its for your own good!
For whose good, exactly?
Well, yours, obviously. Dont ask silly questions. Youll thank me, one day.
Emma did thank her mother, mentally, in rather colourful terms. But as she fumed about Lara, Emma made perhaps her first truly adult decision.
Im getting plastic surgery!
No! Albina stared in horror at Emmas grim determination. I wont allow it! Why?
No point talking me out of it, Mum. Dads already given me his blessing. My minds made up.
You wouldnt dare came the barely audible reply.
The whole thing ended in yet another flood of tears; Albina retreated to her room. She paced for hours, searching for a solution.
It finally dawned on her, close to midnight. So blindingly straightforward, she rushed off in her dressing gown to ring Gran Margaret. Emma was on a flight to Brighton the very next day.
Albina drove her to Heathrow, and as she hugged Emma goodbye, she whispered, We make so many foolish mistakes in life, darlinglose so much by not seeing whats right in front of us. Dont repeat my mistakes. Remember, whatever happens, I love you, more than anything else in the whole world.
Emma could only nod, squeeze her mum, and board the flight. Seeing gran again was all that mattered now.
Gran received her with a bear hug worthy of a rugby player, and only after two days of endless chatting about nothing did they finally sit down for a proper talk.
So, Emma. Whats brought on this newfound wisdom in your mother? Has she finally become a grown woman?
Ive no idea. Maybe because I want to have my nose done.
Good griefwhy? You look lovely. Well, perhaps a dab of blush, but honestly.
Gran! Not you as well! I look like Pinocchio!
Who on earth told you such rot?
People
Emma bit her lip, fighting back tears as visions of perfectly-coiffed Lara danced in her mind. No shortage of admirers there. Crowds would chase after herand she could have anyone she pleased.
People who openly criticise someones looksthose arent people, dear. Theyre accidents God forgot to tidy up before sending out into the world. No ones perfect, not even women! If you can find me one woman anywhere who is entirely happy with her looks, Guinness can shut their doors! Therell never be a bigger rarity.
Maybe I should apply! Most outstanding nose? Id win first prize, no contest.
Hold your horses! said Gran Margaret, bustling from her armchair to a cupboard and returning with a thick blue velvet photo album.
See here!
Whats this?
Those are the Bennetts to whom the family nose didnt prevent lives well-lived. Your ancestors, darling. Not all of themthe war took many away. You wont find any snaps of my cousins who died in Liverpool during the Blitz. But one of them managed to save her daughter, sent her away with the family jewels to a neighbour, who not only kept the child safe, but returned most of her mothers keepsakes as she felt every child deserves something of their kin. You remember Aunt Fay? She was that child. Went on to be an outstanding surgeon! Though, mind you, she always requested a special surgical mask so her nose didnt get in the way. Here she islook!
A towering woman in a full swimsuit, laughing as she held a sunhat to her head by the Brighton shore, with a dashing man by her side.
Thats Uncle Michael, right?
Thats the man! Young, handsome, full of life. Fay was so happy with him, every day they had.
But he was ill, wasnt he?
Yes, terribly, those last two years. Fay gave up her job to care for him every moment. She fed him, bathed himand was grateful for every second he stayed alive. When he died, she followed not six months later, always wishing theyd left together. Thats fate.
Its heartbreaking
It is. And Fays just one in a long line. We Bennetts never changed our surname when marryingthe familys founders were proud men, and we tried to keep their memory alive. The nose comes with the territory. Oddly, all the women had happy livesmarried who they wanted, had children, saw grandchildren born, even great-grandchildren. Thats more than most.
Gran Margaret rose again, opened a carved wooden box, and handed Emma something.
Time you had this. Its what Fay left for you. She divided her treasures between the girls of the familyeach got something precious to remember.
The earrings Emma lifted took her breath away. Her fingers trembledjust as they did whenever Alexander looked at her.
Thats your great-great grandfathers work, Emma. He was a brilliant jeweller, saw beauty where no one else did, adored the English countryside. You can tell it in his designs.
Are these lilies? Emma peered at the tiny flowers set with stones.
Yes. He made these for his wife, Lily. She handed them downmother to daughter, all the way to you.
Gran! This is a real family treasure!
As is your nose, my darling! What if I decided these heirlooms were old-fashioned and ugly, with their history and soul forgotten? Melt them down for something flashy and meaningless? Wouldnt that be wrong?
Emma instinctively balled her fist around the earrings and shook her head. That would be awful!
Then dont go telling the Almighty he did a sub-par job with you. All you have is exactly as its meant to be. Now, tell me: whos this boy whos turned your world upside down? Whats he like? Wheres he from, what does he do?
Gran! How did you know?! Emma blushed furiously, looking down.
Bit of a mystery, isnt it? Gran Margaret snorted. As though I was never young myself!
They talked long into the night. Emma poured her heart out, finally at peace, ready to face her competition and think about the future without crippling fear. She finally had someone to share her deepest secrets with.
Next morning, Emma found her gran packing a suitcase.
Where are you going?
Time to gather up whats left, Emma. Ive made mistakes of my owncutting ties that should have stayed unbroken. I need to see your mother.
Gran Margaret brimmed with resolve. Emma didnt object; instead, she quietly helped with the packing and rang for a taxi to take her Gran to the airport.
Later, curled up with Percival, Emma listened to the muffled voices from the kitchen. She yearned to go in, sit by her gran, hold her mums hand and ask if theyd finally made peace. But she held back, knowing the time wasnt right. Real happiness is delicatea piece of fine work. Better to leave it be than risk ruining it.
A year later, Albinaheavily pregnantstood up awkwardly as the makeup artist finished. She tucked a stray lily-shaped earring into Emmas ear, settled her veil, and pinned the last hairpiece in her daughters updo.
Well, ready?
Just a second! Let me powder my, you know, family treasure Emma grinned at her reflection.
As she caught sight of herself, something in her eyes glimmered. She remembered nervously asking Alexander if he minded her looks.
Of course I dont, Emma! Youre perfect. Why would you ask?
His confusion had been so genuine that Emma had squeezed her eyes shut in pure happiness.
One shy smile, a mischievous sparkle, and two slim arms wrapping around the neck of her tousle-haired, towering musician, fresh from winning an international competition.
No reason, love. No reason at allShe smoothed her dress, feeling the reassuring weight of the heirloom earrings, and glanced at Albina in the mirror. Her mothers eyes shonenot with possessiveness, but pride, and a hint of apology that no words could quite reach.
From down the hall, Gran Margarets laugh tangled with the low notes of Alexanders piano warming up for the ceremony. Even Percival, now a drowsy king sprawled at the threshold, emitted an approving purr.
Emma exhaled, her old insecurities dissolving in the hum of gathered family and the scent of garden lilies tucked at her bouquets heart. This was no fairy talethe cracks in their story were honest, the mended bonds stronger for being fought for.
At the door, her father waited, nervous and awash with joy. Emma looped her arms through his, turning back to the women who had shaped hereach carrying their own wounds, each choosing, against all pride and tradition, to stand together today.
She stepped out, not a single minute behind anyone, and the room basked in her radiance as she walked toward her futurenose, courage, treasures, and allleaving a trail of laughter, love, and belonging in her wake.
