Why should I feel sorry for you? You never felt sorry for me, Emily answered.
In the last year her mother fell ill often. While her mother was in the hospital, Emily stayed at home with her stepfather, Uncle Mike.
He worked long hours as usual, leaving at seven in the morning and returning about eight at night, so Emily was essentially on her own.
Mike gave her a few pounds each week so she could buy a school lunch. With the rest of the money she scraped together pots of spaghetti, buckwheat, potatoes and, now and then, cheap sausages, and used those to make her evening meals.
One chilly evening in late November Emily came home from school to find Mike sitting at the kitchen table, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. When she entered, he lifted his head and said, Emily, theres no mother left for us.
She said nothing and walked straight to her bedroom. At thirteen she knew that her mothers illness was rarely survivable, yet she still clung to the hope that her mother might recover.
Together they had imagined Emily finishing Year9 and then enrolling at a nursing college. Her mother used to tell her, Youll make a wonderful nurse, love. You have a kind heart, and youll be great with sick children.
Emily stared at the bare birch branches that grew outside her window. A sharp loneliness settled over her, as if there were no stepfather, no relatives, no school friendsjust an empty void filling everything around her.
The following day her mothers sisters arrived: Aunt Margaret, Aunt Susan and Aunt Helen, who lived in the countryside. They wandered through the flat, chatted, rummaged through the cupboards for their sisters belongings, and then spent the whole evening cooking in the kitchen.
Emily stayed in her room. Aunt Margaret placed a plate of mashed potatoes and a meat patty on her desk, but Emily didnt touch it.
At the wake three more women and two men she had never seen appeared. Immediately the adults began arguing over what to do with Emily.
Mike spoke first: Kate and I were never married, we just lived together, so Im not responsible for the girl. We have to vacate this flat in two weeks; I cant afford a twobedroom alone, Ill find something smaller. So, dear relatives, decide who will take Emily in.
Silence fell over the room; the three sisters of the deceased and the two aunts all stared at each other.
Finally Aunt Susan said, What do we think? Kate was your sister, Margaret, so you should look after her daughter.
Margaret snapped back, And what does that matter? Kate and I only called each other twice a yearonce for birthdays, once for New Years. I dont even know who the father is. Besides, I have three boys of my own, I have nowhere to put another child.
Helen offered, Maybe you, Susan, could take her? You say youre short of money, but youd get a caregiver allowance and a benefit for Emily because of her mothers death. Plus your daughter Christina is twelve; they could keep each other company.
Helen replied, No! Pavel and I just moved in together. I told Christina to keep quiet, and you want to dump a stranger on me.
Susan said, I dont need any money, Helen. Why dont you, Valentina, take Emily yourself?
Valentina answered, Im disabled; they wont let me look after a child. Im older than you all, and it would be hard for me to care for her.
The discussion ended without a decision, and Emily, sitting in the next room, heard the relatives bargain over her future.
She realized none of her mothers sisters showed any genuine interest in her. As they gathered their coats in the hallway, Aunt Helen remarked, If this flat werent rented, but owned, we might have arranged something. As it stands, well lose more than we gain, and the inspections will only make things worse.
By the time the flat had to be cleared, Emilys fate was decided: she would be placed in a local childrens home.
As Mike handed her over to the care workers, he said, Dont hold a grudge against me. Our paths are now separate.
On her first day at the home a tall girl with a thick curl of dark hair approached her. Youre new, arent you? Whats your name?
Emily, she replied.
Dont worry. Its not terrible here. We have decent carers and a few who couldnt care less, but there arent any truly cruel ones.
Its only bad when youre alone, the girl said. Ive been here a month; lets stick together, itll be easier. My names Lucy.
Do you have any living parents? Emily asked.
No, mine are still alive, but soon theyll be gone, I guess. Their parental rights were taken away and the four of usme and my three brotherswere brought here.
Lucky you have brothers, Emily said.
Lucky? The youngest, Wolf, does nothing, and the two older ones beat me constantly, making me cook and wash while mum was on her deathbed.
How old are you? Emily asked.
Thirteen, turned three months ago, Lucy answered.
I thought you were older.
No, everyone in my family is tallgrandfather, father, brothers.
Lucy and Emily stayed close until they both finished Year9.
That final year they often talked about their futures.
Id love to get into nursing college, Emily said one day. Mom and I dreamed of that. I just dont know if itll happen.
Why not? Lucy replied. You get As in chemistry and biology, maybe a couple of Bs in the rest. And remember, we have some grants. Youll get in even without them.
Did you decide to become a chef? Emily asked.
Im aiming to be a pastry chef. I want to bake cakes that are as light as clouds.
Remember when we four went to the vocal competition with Mrs. Natalie? We won a prize and were on TV, Lucy recalled.
Yes, then we stopped by a café and Mrs. Natalie bought us coffee and pastriesthose airy creams were amazing, Emily smiled.
Emily entered nursing college and became one of the top students in her cohort. In her final year she was allocated a modest flat with the simplest furnishings.
It was the first time since her years in the childrens home and the dormitory that she had a room of her own, a kitchen and a bathroom she didnt have to share.
She tried to make it cosy: light curtains, a pot of flowering geranium on the windowsill, a bright tablecloth on the kitchen table, two redspotted pots, and a few extra pieces of crockery. The place was simple, but it was hers.
One afternoon, after finishing her shift as a hospital ward assistant, Emily was heading to the cloakroom to catch the bus home when someone called her name.
It was Aunt Helen, her mothers second cousin, the same woman who had once refused to take her in so she wouldnt disturb her familys happiness.
Emily, hello! Do you remember me? Helen asked.
I remember. Youre my mothers cousin, Emily replied.
I heard you were studying here. Imagine, my niece Christina told me by chance that a girl named Emily Thompson won a competition at her college!
There are many Thompsons, but Emily isnt a common name. I came to see if were really related, Helen said.
Sorry, Im running late for work, Emily said, moving toward the exit.
Helen walked beside her, continuing, I heard you got a flat. I have a small request: Christina is only in her second year, she still has two years left, and the other girls in the dorm are quite troublesome.
Could she stay with you until she finishes college? We could split the rent and bring food, Emily offered.
No, Helen replied sharply. Youve always been a good girl! Dont you feel sorry for your sister?
Im not the sweet girl I used to be, and I dont feel sorry for Christina. Didnt you all think it was cruel to send me to a childrens home?
Why should I feel sorry for you now? Ive survived the home, the dorm, everything. Look, Im alive, and Christina will survive too.
They reached the bus stop. Emily stepped onto the bus as the doors closed. Helen stood watching the bus pull away for a few minutes, then turned and walked back, muttering, What goes up will eventually come down.
Emily watched the streets blur past, feeling the weight of the past lift just a little. She understood that lifes hardships could never be erased, but kindnesswhether given or withheldshaped the person you became. In the end, she learned that true strength comes not from waiting for others to rescue you, but from finding the resolve within yourself to build a new life, no matter how broken the past may have been.
