**Diary Entry Thursday, 12th October**
The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I should have known. Mum barely glanced up from stirring her Sunday roast gravy when she said, “Your bonus came just in time. Lucy needs six months rent upfront for that flat in Camden.”
My fingers tightened around my phone, still warm from the notification. Three unread messages from Emilymy best matebuzzed in my pocket. Wed been planning this fortnight in Spain for months. Nearly booked the flights.
“What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Mum didnt even turn from the hob. From the living room, Lucys laughter tangled with the tinny voices of some reality show.
“You heard me. Lucy and that lad of herswhats his name?” Mum frowned, scraping a wooden spoon along the saucepan. “Oliver. Theyve found a place, but the landlord wants six months in advance. Where else is she meant to get that kind of money? Your bonus is perfect.”
Not a question. A decree. Always like this.
I hung my coat on the peg by the door, slow and deliberate. Twenty-eight years of biting my tongue had taught me that much.
“Mum, I had plans for that money,” I said carefully. “Emily and I were going to”
“Oh, not Emily again.” Mum waved me off, peering into the oven at the Yorkshire puddings. “Shes always dragging you off somewhere. Youre nearly thirty, love. Should be thinking about settling down, not jaunting off with your friends.”
Lucy drifted inMums carbon copy, just younger, with a daisy-chain tattoo curling round her wrist. She dug a spoon into a pot of yoghurt and leaned against the counter, smirking.
“Claire, dont look so gutted. You got the bonus, yeah? Thats sorted, then.” She licked the spoon. “Ollie found this brilliant place yesterday. Two bedrooms, garden view, landlords sound. Only thing is, she wont budge on the six months upfront.”
I studied her. My hair was always scraped back in a ponytail, shadows under my eyes from late nights at the office. Lucy? Golden waves, dimples, that effortless glow. Dads little princessuntil he ran off with his secretary three years back.
“Lucy, why cant Oliver pay for it himself? Hes twenty-six. His parents could help.”
She rolled her eyes. “Theyre skint right now. Temporary thing. Hell pay me back. Were a couplewe help each other.”
“Right. Help each other.” I stressed the words. “Not expect your sister to bankroll it.”
“Dont be daft,” she said, patting my arm. “Youve got ages to save for another holiday. We need this flat now. You get it, yeah? Ollie and I want to see if were serious.”
Mum snorted without looking up. “Serious? Youll be serious when youve got a ring on your finger.”
“God, Mum, no one does that anymore,” Lucy groaned. “Right, Claire?”
I said nothing. Four years at the firm, promoted to senior analyst last year. Six a.m. starts, nine p.m. finishes. Weekends hunched over my laptop. My last proper holiday? Two years ago.
Lucy? Three jobs since uni, never lasted more than a few months. Now she was “finding herself” between nail art courses. Oliver was also “finding himself”flitting between start-up ideas like a bee between flowers.
“Claire.” Mums voice sharpened. “Dont be selfish. Your sister needs you. Thats what family does.”
Something inside me snapped. Selfish? Me? The one who covered half the bills while Lucy blew her wages on Zara hauls and nights out with Oliver?
“I was going on holiday, Mum,” I said quietly. “Two weeks. Ive saved a year for this.”
“Holiday!” Mum threw her hands up. “Lucys building her life, and youre swanning off? Always putting yourself first.”
Lucy clasped her hands, puppy-dog eyes locked on mine. “Please, Claire. Ill pay you back. Once Im sorted.”
“Whens that, Lucy? Youve been sorting yourself since graduation.”
“Not everyones a workaholic like you,” Mum cut in, slamming a lid on the potatoes. “Lucys got her priorities straightfamily, children.”
“And I dont?” The words tumbled out.
Mum gave me that lookhalf pity, half irritation. “When would you have time? Always knackered, always working. Men dont want that. Lucys homely. Warm.”
I pressed my lips together. Lucy snatched my phone, scrolling through the Spanish resort photos like she owned them.
“Bloody hell, five stars?” She whistled. “Couldve gone three-star. Or Brighton. Still a beach.”
I took my phone back. “I wanted nice. Once every two years, I reckon Ive earned it.”
“Course you have,” Mum said smoothly. “But family comes first. You can relax later.”
Later. That eternal *later*.
“Lucy,” I said, “why not find a place with monthly payments?”
“Too pricey!” she cried. “This ones by the Tube, shops nearby. Landlords fine with Olivers dog. You know how he dotes on Max.”
Max. The cockapoo Oliver walked religiouslyhis sole responsibility.
“How much?” I asked, already knowing Id lost.
Lucy beamed. “Twelve grand. Six months rent! Works out cheaper monthly.”
I froze. Twelve thousand. Nearly my entire bonus.
“Lucy, I”
“Claire.” Mum faced me fully. “You wont let your sister down. I didnt raise you that way.”
The doorbell rang. Lucy squealed. “Thats Ollie! Mum, set another plate. Claire, you joining?”
I shook my head. “Ill be in my room.”
Upstairs, I stared at the ceiling. Five texts from Emily:
*”Bonus come through? Swimsuits tomorrow? :)”*
*”Claire? You alive?”*
*”Found another hotelgotta book today!”*
*”Hello?”*
*”Whats going on?”*
Laughter floated up from the kitchenLucys giggle, Olivers booming voice, Mums *clink* of cutlery.
*”Cant go,”* I typed.
*”WHAT? WHY??”*
How to explain? This cycle I couldnt escape?
*”Family stuff.”*
*”Lucy again? When will you stop bailing them out?”*
I didnt reply. My childhood roomsame floral wallpaper, same creaky wardrobefelt like it was closing in. Only the laptop was new, the one I worked on when the office drained me.
I grabbed my coat.
“Off out?” Mum called.
“Walk. Headache.”
“Dont be late. And transfer Lucy the money tomorrow.”
The autumn air bit my cheeks as I wandered, numb. My phone vibratedEmily again.
*”Seriously, Claire. You cant set yourself on fire to keep them warm.”*
*”You said you wanted your own place this year. Whats stopping you?”*
*”Claire, answer me.”*
I stopped by the Thames, staring at the glittering cityscape. For years, Id watched those lights, imagining a life untethered.
*”Im coming,”* I typed.
*”??? Really? What about family stuff?”*
*”Let them sort their own stuff.”*
The weight lifting was dizzying.
*”Swear? No backing out?”*
*”Swear. Booking flights tonight.”*
And I didright there on the embankment, fingers trembling from cold and adrenaline.
I got back late. The flat was silent except for Lucys muffled telly.
Next morning, Mum cornered me in the kitchen.
“Transfer Lucy the money. Shes signing the contract today.”
“What money?” I poured coffee.
“Your bonus. The alert came through last night. Do it now before you forget.”
I froze. “Youwhat?”
“Dont look so shocked. Its a joint account. For family.”
Joint account. Years ago, Id given Mum a card for groceries. Never imagined shed monitor my payslips.
“Mum, that moneys gone. I spent it.”
Her head snapped up. “On what?”
“Flights. To Spain. With Emily.”
The silence was thick enough to choke on.
“What have you done?” Her voice was deadly quiet. “You knew Lucy needed it.”
“And I told you I needed a holiday.” My words came out steadyforeign, even to me.
“Cancel it. Now. Lucys signing today.”
“No.”
She stared at me like Id grown a second head.
