“Why did you even come?” asked the niece, clearing away my food.
“Aunt Lydia, can I change the channel?” Emily didnt wait for an answer, grabbing the remote and flicking through stations. “What rubbish you watch! Blimey, its already nineIve got an early start tomorrow.”
Lydia set aside her knitting and studied her niece. The girl had grown uptwenty-eight now, hardly a girl any longeryet she still seemed like that same little Emily whod dash into Grandmas house every summer, begging, “Aunt Lydia, tell me a princess story!”
“Whats so important tomorrow?” Lydia asked, turning down the telly.
“Just a work meeting,” Emily waved it off, eyes glued to the screen. “Honestly, your fridge is dodgythe milks gone off already.”
“Gone off? I bought it fresh yesterday!”
“Look for yourself!” Emily sprang from the sofa, shuffling in slippers to the kitchen. “See? Disgusting!”
Lydia followed, peering into the milk carton. Curdled. Oddshed checked the date at the shop.
“Mustve spoiled in the heat. Ill fetch another.” She reached for the fridge, but Emily stopped her.
“Dont bother. I wont have any. Dairy upsets my stomach. Just make a strong cuppa, yeah?”
“Of course. Fancy a bite? Ive fried potatoes with mushrooms…”
“Aunt Lydia, Im on a diet!” Emily rolled her eyes. “No fried food. And nothing after six.”
“But its nine…”
“Exactly! So Im not eating!”
Lydia filled the kettle, pulling out a tin of biscuits. Emily grimaced at the digestives.
“Cant have those either. Anything sugar-free?”
“Theres brown bread?” Lydia offered hesitantly.
“Still carbs. Fine, just tea.”
They returned to the lounge. Some American film played, Emily staring blankly. Lydia picked up her knitting but couldnt focus. Her niece had arrived that morning, said shed stay the night, then leave. At first, Lydia had been chuffedEmily rarely visited, always busy in London with work. Now she sat there, silent, as if doing her a favour.
“Em, love,” Lydia ventured, “hows work?”
“Fine,” Emily muttered, not turning.
“And Daniel? Thought you two were getting married?”
Emily stiffened, tearing her gaze from the telly.
“We split. Six months ago.”
“Good grief! What happened?”
“Nothing dramatic. Just… didnt suit each other.”
Lydia set down her needles. So that was that. Shed been eyeing wedding outfits, waiting for an invite. The look on Emilys face warned against pressing further.
“And work? Still at that firmwhat was it called?”
“Left last month.”
“What? You were there three years!”
“Was. Now Im not. Job-hunting.”
“How dyou manage?”
“Aunt Lydia!” Emily twisted round. “Must you interrogate me? I get by.”
“Sorry, pet. Just worried.”
“Well, dont. Im grown.”
Silence. Lydia stole glances. Emily looked peaky, thin. Her eyes dull. Once, shed been full of liferacing into Grandmas, filling the house with laughter and plans. Now she sat like a stranger.
The kettle whistled. Emily bolted up first.
“Ill make it!” she called from the kitchen.
Lydia heard cupboards slamming. Thenquiet. Too quiet. She went to check.
Emily stood at the window, empty mug trembling in her hands.
“Em? Whats wrong?”
“Nothing,” she sniffed. “Just… knackered.”
Lydia hugged her shoulders. Emily leaned in, just like she had as a child.
“Tell me, love.”
“Its everything, Aunt Lydia. Daniel said I was boring. Work was hellboss bullied me till I quit. Now I cant find anything. Rents due, and Im skint.”
“Oh, ducky! Why didnt you say? Wed sort something!”
“What, on your pension?” Emily wiped her eyes. “Im supposed to cope alone.”
“Rubbish! Familys for hard times.”
Emily gave a bitter laugh. “What family? Mums wrapped up with her husband. One brothers in Berlin, the other in Manchester. The rest? Havent seen them in years.”
“But Im here!”
“You are.” Emily sighed. “But what goods that? Youre barely scraping by too.”
Lydia said nothing. True, her pension was meagre. But this wasnt about money. Why had Emily shut everyone out?
They brewed tea, returned to the telly. Emily calmed, even nibbled a biscuitdiet forgotten.
“Remember,” Lydia said, “those summers at Grandmas? Picking strawberries in the woods?”
Emily smiled. “And your fairy tales.”
“We baked pies. Youd nick the dough.”
“Granny always scolded me!” Emily laughedproperly, for the first time that night. Then her face fell. “I miss her, Aunt Lydia.”
“Me too, pet.”
A pause. Then Emily asked suddenly, “Ever regret not marrying? Not having kids?”
Lydia blinked. “I was married.”
“OhUncle Nick. But that wasnt long.”
“Three years isnt nothing.”
“No kids, though.”
“Didnt happen,” Lydia said softly.
“Dont you mind?”
“Course I mind. But lifes life.”
Emily frowned. “I wonder if its in our bloodliving for others, not ourselves.”
Lydia scoffed. “Whose life is their own? We muddle through, then call it choice after.”
“Maybe.” Emily checked her watch. “Best gointerviews soon.”
Lydia thrust sandwiches into her bag. “For later.”
At the door, Emily hesitated.
“Whyd you move here?” she asked abruptly. “Years ago. You couldve stayed home.”
Lydia paused. An old story, rarely told.
“Mum fell ill. No one to care for her. Then… I stayed.”
“Gave up your life?”
“Lived it differently.”
Emily studied her. “So you sacrificed too.”
“Didnt sacrifice. Just chose what felt right.”
“Were you happy?”
Lydia shrugged. “Bits were good, bits werent. Like everyone.”
“But you mightve had kids. A proper marriage…”
“Mightve. Didnt.”
Emily exhaled. “Nothing works out for me either. Maybe were cursedalways living half-lives.”
Lydia touched her cheek. “Half-lives? Love, theres no other kind.”
That evening, Emily rang.
“Aunt LydiaI got the job! Waitress at that new café. Start tomorrow.”
“Brilliant! Owners decent?”
“Seem alright. Said if it goes well, I might manage the place.”
“See? Things turn.”
“Early days. But at least theres wages. Aunt Lydia… can I visit sometimes? Not to stayjust…”
“Whenever you like, love.”
“Ta. Its… peaceful here. Feels like home.”
“It is your home, Em. Always.”
After, Lydia sat with her tea, thinking. How time flew. Emilyonce a scrap of a girl, now a woman weighed down. She ached to shield her, but some roads must be walked alone.
Perhaps Emily was rightnone of them lived the lives theyd imagined. Lydia had come for her mother, stayed from habit. Emily had drifted into jobs, relationships, now waitressingnot by choice, but necessity.
Then again, maybe that was living: doing what needed doing. Caring, working, helping. Call it choice or chancewhat mattered was doing it decently. No grand plans required. Just kindness, day by day.
