**A Twist of Fate**
Mum, how much longer must this go on? snapped Charlotte irritably. Thomas is twenty! Hes a grown man and should be living on his own by now. Yet you still coddle him like some precious treasure. Its sickening to watch.
Then dont watch, retorted Margaret. Mind your own life, not ours. Youve got Oliver to raisefocus on him.
I *am* raising him!
Poorly, Margaret cut in sharply. That boys completely out of hand.
He is *not*! Hes just at that difficult ageas if Thomas was ever a model teenager!
He wasnt perfect, Margaret narrowed her eyes, but he studied hard, helped around the house, and never spoke to me with disrespect. Oliver only knows how to beg for money and never says thank you.
So what? Youre his grandmother!
And that means he doesnt have to show gratitude? He can just take and take? Though I shouldnt be surprised he takes after *you*.
Whats *that* supposed to mean?! Charlotte flared.
Only that Ive never heard a kind word from youjust endless complaints and blame.
Mum!
What, Mum? Am I wrong? Youre raising that boy to think the world owes him something. Even Thomas isnt safehes started pestering him too. Dont you see I need a new laptop? Ive put up with his nonsense so far, but mark my words: my patience is wearing thin.
And what then? Charlottes eyes flashed with anger.
Ill cut him off. Not another penny. And Ill tell Thomas to do the same.
Oh, how terrifying, Charlotte sneered. I expected something worse.
I dont need to threaten, Margaret frowned. Hes my grandson, and I love him. But I wont tolerate his cheek. If I put him in his place, hell think twice before coming back.
And how will your precious Thomas manage without his dear nephew?
*Mine?* Margaret spun around, fixing Charlotte with a hard stare.
Well *ours*, Charlotte faltered. What does it matter? He adores the boy.
Silence settled heavily in the room. Margaret clenched her jaw, holding back words she knew she shouldnt speak.
The door creaked open, and Thomas walked intall, lanky, his hair slightly ruffled. He glanced wearily between his mother and sister.
Again? he sighed. When will you two stop bickering?
Stay out of it, Charlotte snapped. This doesnt concern you!
Not me, but Mum. And the way you speak to hersomeone has to defend her!
Defend her? Charlotte scoffed. Your only right is to live off her and pretend everythings fine.
I *live off* her? Thomas stepped closer, his voice tight with indignation. I work, I help around the house, I dont cause scenes. *You* show up and turn this place into a circus.
She doesnt see youre turning into a freeloader! Charlotte exploded. She spoils you rotteneverything for you, always!
Charlotte! Margarets voice cut through sharply. Enough. Youre being unfair.
Unfair? Charlottes voice trembled with bitterness. I never got half of what hes had! All the care, all the affectionits all gone to him! What did I get? Scraps!
What does this have to do with me? Thomas asked quietly, stunned by her outburst. Youre the one pushing everyone away with your grudges. Maybe thats why people avoid you?
Oh, *now* its *my* fault! Charlottes eyes blazed.
Thomas opened his mouth to retaliate, but Margaret stepped between them.
Dont. Charlotte is your elder sister. Show her respect.
She doesnt respect *anyone*! Thomas shot back. She storms in, picks fights, insults people. Mum, its time someone put herand Oliverin their place. He took a fair bit of cash from my wallet last week without asking.
A heavy silence fell. The accusation hung in the air like thunder.
Charlottes cheeks flushed crimson. Her face twisted with something beyond angersomething desperate.
Margaret braced herself. One more word, and Charlotte would snap.
Instead, Charlotte shrieked:
Youre lying! Oliver would *never* do that! Hes *my* sonhes no thief!
Charlotte Margaret spoke quietly but firmly. I trust Thomas. He doesnt lie. But Olivers behaviour? Thats another matter. You need to talk to himgently.
How *dare* you accuse my son of stealing! Charlotte gasped.
And how dare you accuse *mine* of lying, Margaret countered.
*Yours?* Charlottes eyes flashed. *Your* son? Hes no son of yours!
Margaret froze.
What? Thomas stiffened. Mum, whats she talking about?
Shes telling the truth, Margaret whispered, her face pale. Im not your mother.
For a moment, Thomas stood motionless, the words ringing in his ears.
Charlotte slumped onto the sofa, breath ragged. She couldnt believe what shed just done.
Memories crashed over her like a cold wave.
Shed been youngjust out of school.
Hopelessly in love.
She hadnt realised she was pregnant at first. By the time she did, it was too late for any other choice.
The boy had shrugged.
You sure its mine?
Terrified, she confessed to her parents. Her mother had raged and wept. Her fatherstill alive thenhad threatened to throw her out for shaming the family.
But in time, the storm passed. Theyd supported her as best they could.
Charlotte had given birth to a son. Her parents doted on the boy.
Then her father died. Money grew tight. So Charlotte left for LondonMargaret agreed to care for Thomas.
The first year, she visited, sent money.
Then she vanished.
A new love, a new life, another sonone Margaret and Thomas knew nothing about for years.
Her new man didnt know about Thomas either.
When he cast her out, she returned home.
Thomas was ten by then. Oliver, five. Margaret forgave her but refused to let her stay. She saw the truth: Charlotte felt nothing for Thomas. How could she? Shed last seen him at two years old. He called Margaret Mum now.
So Margaret had proposed a lie: Charlotte would be his sister, returned from afar.
***
Thomass quiet question pulled Charlotte back to the present.
Then who *is* my mother?
Charlotte shuddered. She couldnt say it.
Her hands trembled; tears streamed down her face.
Th-Thomas she stammered, but the words wouldnt come.
Margaret moved to salvage the wreckage.
She wrapped her arms around Thomas and whispered, Dont be upset, love. The truth is Charlotte is your mother.
Thomas went still.
He looked at Charlottecrumpled on the sofa, weeping.
A wave of revulsion hit him.
After a long pause, he spoke.
So you, he turned to Margaret, are my grandmother? Or are you not even related?
Of course were related! Charlotte burst out. Shes my mother! Olivers your little brother!
Thomas gave a bitter laugh.
What luck.
The hatred in his glare made Charlotte flinch.
Right. Ive heard enough, he said icily. I need to be alone.
He left.
The door clicked shut, and silence swallowed the flat.
***
Charlotte sat frozen, her face streaked with tears, her heart pounding.
What have I done? she whispered. Ive got my son backand now I dont know what to do with him. Hell hate me. And Oliver? How do I explain that Thomas is his brother? Hell never understand. Or forgive Mum, why didnt you stop me?
Margaret stood beside her. She knew Charlotte was mourning the fantasy shed clung toand facing the terror of reality. Scolding her now was pointless. Shed longed for this secret to be uncovered.
She just hadnt thought of the cost.
Margaret sat beside her daughter and murmured, Itll be alright, love. Thomas has a good heart. Hell come round.
What happens now, Mum? Charlotte sobbed. How do we live with this? Ill never forgive myself
***
Thomas was gone for two days. Neither woman could rest. He ignored their calls.
Then he returned
