Where do you think you’re going? It’s nearly eleven!
Mum, I told you! It’s Emma’s birthdaywe’re just meeting at a café, and I’ll come straight home. I’ll call a taxi, I promise!
Claire stood in the hallway, arms crossed, blocking her seventeen-year-old daughters path. Sophie, already dressed in her new outfit and with makeup done, shifted impatiently from foot to foot.
A taxi at this hour? Are you mad? Its Friday nightyou can meet tomorrow afternoon. Youre not going, and thats final.
Mum! Sophies voice cracked with frustration. Everyone else is allowedwhy not me? You dont trust me, do you? You still treat me like a kid!
I think London at night is no place for a seventeen-year-old girl. End of discussion. Go to your room and change.
Sophie shot her a furious glare, spun around, and stomped off, slamming her bedroom door so hard the china in the cabinet rattled. Claire sighed heavily and walked into the kitchen, her heart still pounding from the argument. She knew Sophie would sulk for hours, but she couldnt let her go. The fear for her only daughter outweighed any desire to be the “cool” mum.
She filled the kettle and slumped onto a stool. The evening was ruined. The flat was silent until the phone rang. Claire picked it up, bracing herself for a lecture from her mother or another favour from the neighbour.
Hello? she said wearily.
Claire? Oh, Claire, is that you? came a trembling, tearful voiceone she hadnt heard in years. Its Sarah. Sarah Miller. Do you remember me?
Claire froze. Sarah Miller? Her best friend from university, the one life had pulled them apart from over a decade ago. First, the calls grew rare, then just Christmas cards, and then nothing at all.
Sarah? Of course I remember. Whats wrong? You sound
Claire, Im so sorry to call so late, Sarah sniffed. Ive got no one else. Something terribles happened…
Between sobs, Sarah explained. Her live-in boyfriend of ten years had thrown her outjust like that. Said hed met someone else and gave her an hour to pack. The flat was his, her job was under the table at his firm, so now she was on the street with nothing but a duffel bag and no money.
Im at Kings Cross, Claire, Sarah whispered. I dont know what to do. No one will help me. I cant go back to my parentsits too humiliating.
Claires chest tightened. She pictured Sarahbright, confident Sarah, the girl every guy at uni fanciedsitting on a filthy station bench, lost and alone. The anger at Sophie and the exhaustion of the day vanished.
Sarah, where exactly are you? Which part of the station? she asked quickly.
By the ticket office.
Listen to me. Stay there. Get a taxi and come to me. Ill pay the fare.
Claire, no, I dont want to impose
No arguments! Claire cut in. Remember the address?
I think so… Forest Road, number twelve?
Yes. Flat forty-five. Ill see you soon.
After hanging up, Claire rushed around the flat, pulling out fresh bedding for the sofa in the lounge. It was old but comfortable. Her mind racedwas she doing the right thing? But who else would help Sarah now?
An hour later, the doorbell rang. On the doorstep stood Sarah. Claire barely recognised herthe woman before her was haggard, her eyes dull and swollen from crying. Her expensive but crumpled coat, tangled hair, and the duffel bag in her hand painted a stark picture.
Claire… Sarah choked out before collapsing into her arms, shaking with silent sobs.
Shh, its alright, Claire murmured, rubbing her back. Come in, youre freezing.
She led Sarah to the kitchen and poured her tea. Sarahs hands trembled as she sipped.
Thank you. I dont know what Id have done without you.
Dont mention it. Were friends, Claire said simply. Are you hungry? I can make something quick.
No, I cant eat. Can I just… lie down? Im exhausted.
Of course.
Claire took her to the lounge, where the sofa was already made up.
Make yourself at home. Bathrooms down the hall if you need it.
Thank you, Sarah whispered again before sinking onto the sofa.
Claire quietly closed the door and peeked into Sophies room. Her daughter was already asleep, curled under the duvet. She kissed her foreheadtonights argument forgotten. All she could think about was Sarah. How had life battered her so badly? The girl whod had everythinglook at her now.
The next morning, Claire woke early. Dawn hadnt broken yet, and the flat was silent. She tiptoed out to make coffee, careful not to wake Sarah or Sophie. But as she passed her own bedroom, she froze. The door, which she always kept closed, was slightly ajarand from inside came a faint rustling.
Her heart skipped a beat. Sophie? No, Sophie was fast asleep. Sarah? What was she doing in her room at this hour?
Claire edged closer and peered through the gap. What she saw made her blood run cold. Sarah was kneeling in front of her dresser, drawers pulled open, methodically rifling through her things. Not just lookingfeeling between folded clothes, checking every corner like she was searching for something. Then she pulled out Claires old jewellery boxthe one with her mothers earrings, the thin gold chain from her late husband, a couple of silver rings. Sarah opened it, scanned the contents, then, with a disappointed frown, put it back. Next, she moved to the paperwork drawer.
Claires vision darkened. This couldnt be real. Her friendthe one shed taken in out of pitywas going through her belongings like a thief.
She didnt know what to doburst in shouting, demand an explanation, or slip away and pretend shed seen nothing. She chose the latter. Quiet as a mouse, she retreated to her bed, pulling the duvet over her head. Her body trembled. What was Sarah looking for? Money? Jewellery? Why hadnt she taken the jewellery box?
Minutes later, the rustling stopped. Claire heard the door creak shut. She lay still, straining to listen. The sofa in the lounge groanedsilence.
It took half an hour before Claire forced herself up. She entered the kitchen to find Sarah at the table, staring out the window.
Morning, Sarah said, turning. She looked tired, sadno trace of guilt.
Morning, Claire replied flatly, filling the kettle. Inside, she was seething. Sleep well?
Yes, thanks. Your sofas comfy. Sorry if I woke youI was up early, couldnt sleep.
“Of course you couldnt,” Claire thought bitterly but said:
Dont worry. Im an early riser too.
She made toast while stealing glances at Sarah. The woman acted perfectly normal, lamenting her exs betrayal, making vague plans.
Ill need to go to a few job interviews next week, Sarah said. Maybe I can rent a room soon. I dont want to outstay my welcome.
Dont worry about that, Claire replied mechanically. Stay as long as you need.
She wanted to scream: “What were you doing in my room?” But she held back. She needed to understand.
Sophie woke and froze at the sight of a stranger in the kitchen.
Sophie, this is Aunt Sarah, my old uni friend. Shes staying with us for a bit.
Hi, Sophie said politely but coolly.
Your daughters grown up so lovely! Sarah beamed. I remember her as a baby in a pram.
Sophie shrugged and sat down to breakfast, watching Sarah closely. Claire felt the tension.
When Sarah went to the bathroom, Sophie leaned in.
Mum, why is she here?
Shes had some trouble, love. I couldnt turn her away.
Shes weird, Sophie whispered. Her eyes keep darting around.
Claire sighed. So it wasnt just her.
Later, Sarah offered to help clean. She scrubbed floors, dusted shelveslike she was paying her way. She kept asking about Claires life, work, her late husband Mark.
You never remarried after Mark? Sarah asked while wiping a bookshelf.
No. Didnt work out.
Shame. He was such a good man. Remember how he used to dote on you? All the girls were jealous.
Claire stayed silent. Mark had died of a heart attack ten years ago, leaving her alone with seven-year-old Sophie.
By evening, the tension eased slightly. They watched a film together. Sarah laughed at the jokes, chatted about the plot. Claire pretended nothing was wrong, but Sarahs gazescanning their modest flat like an appraisermade her skin crawl.
That night, Claire locked her bedroom door for the first time ever. Shameful, but necessary.
The next day, Sarah was all smileshelping with shopping, cooking dinner. She tried talking to Sophie, but the girl gave clipped answers, avoiding her.
Shes a bit shy, isnt she? Sarah remarked to Claire.
Teenagers, Claire said vaguely.
On Monday, as Claire got ready for work, Sarah hovered.
Claire, do you mind if I stay here? Id feel awkward alone in your flat. What if someone calls?
Of course, Claire said reluctantly, handing her the keys. Sarah took them eagerlyanother red flag.
At work, Claire couldnt focus. All she saw was Sarah going through her things. Why? If she wanted to steal, shed have done it already. Was she after something specific? But what? Claire had no valuables.
At lunch, she called their old uni friend, Olivia.
Liv, listen… Sarah Millers turned up at mine.
Our Sarah? Wheres she been?
Says her boyfriend kicked her out.
A pause.
Claire… be careful with her.
Why?
She always had a… streak. Remember the missing society trip money?
Claire frowned. Theyd never found out who took it.
And?
Lucy told me she saw Sarah stash it in her bag. We let it gono proof. But a few years ago, I bumped into her in town. Looked rough. Said she was drowning in debt, loan sharks after her.
Claires stomach dropped. Debt. Loan sharks. That explained it.
Thanks, Liv.
She left work early. The flat was silent. She checked her roomempty. Sophies roomempty. Then she froze in the doorway.
Sarah was at Sophies desk, sifting through her papers, textbooks, sketches.
What are you doing? Claires voice was ice.
Sarah jumped, forcing a guilty smile.
Oh! Youre back early. I was just… tidying Sophies desk.
I didnt ask you to. And you dont touch my daughters things.
Claire stepped closer. Sarah was holding Sophies old photo albumthe one with pictures of Mark.
Put it down.
Claire, I was just
Sarah. I know. About the debts. The loan sharks. Youre looking for money. Did you think my husband left me a fortune?
Sarahs face went pale.
Im not
Stop lying! Claire snapped. I saw you going through my things! What were you after? Thought I had a stash? Well, tough. We live paycheck to paycheck. Theres nothing to steal.
Sarahs eyes turned cold.
Fine. Yes, I was looking. So what? Im desperate! Youve got a flat, a job, a daughter. And Mark… he was always tight with money. I thought maybe hed left somethingcoin collection, anything.
Claires head spun. Mark had collected coins as a hobbyjust a handful of old pennies in a shoebox.
You… you came here to rob me? Your friend?
What choice did I have? Sarah snarled.
The front door clickedSophie was home. She stopped dead in the doorway.
Mum? Whats going on?
Pack your things, Claire said, not taking her eyes off Sarah. Youve got five minutes.
Sarah shoved her few belongings into her bag. Claire stood, arms crossed, watching. Every shred of pity was gone.
Five minutes later, Sarah stood in the hallway, duffel bag in hand.
Well. Goodbye, “friend”, she sneered.
Claire said nothing. She opened the door. Sarah left without a glance.
When the door shut, Claire slid to the floor, back against it. Sophie sat beside her, hugging her shoulders.
Mum, dont cry. Shes not worth it. I told you she was off.
Claire looked at her daughter, tears in her eyes.
I just dont understand, Soph. How could she? We were friends…
People change, Mum. Especially when theyre desperate.
Sitting there in the hallway, holding her daughter, Claire felt something shift. The flather small, safe havenwas hers again. No lies, no betrayal. She looked at Sophie, smoothing her hair, and for the first time in ages, she didnt feel bitterness. Just relief. Her real treasure wasnt in jewellery boxes or shoeboxes. It was right here, holding her tight.
