**Diary Entry 23rd October**
*”Why did you even come?”* my niece asked, clearing away my plate of half-eaten dinner.
*Aunt Lydia, can I change the channel?* Emily didnt wait for an answershe snatched the remote and began flicking through programmes. *God, what rubbish you watch! Oh, its already nine. Ive got an early start tomorrow.*
I set down my knitting and studied her. She wasnt a child anymoretwenty-eight nowbut in my mind, she was still that little girl whod visit Gran in the summers, tugging my sleeve and begging, *Aunt Lydia, tell me about the princess!*
*Whats so important tomorrow?* I asked, turning down the telly.
*Just a work thing,* she muttered, eyes glued to the screen. *Honestly, your fridge is weird. The milks gone off.*
*What? I bought it fresh yesterday!*
*Well, look for yourself!* She stomped into the kitchen in her slippers. *See? Disgusting.*
I followed and peered into the carton. Curdled. StrangeId checked the date at Tesco.
*Mustve spoiled in the heat. Ill get another.* I reached for the fridge, but she stopped me.
*Dont bother. I dont want any. Dairy messes with my stomach. Just make some strong tea, yeah?*
*Of course. Hungry, though? Ive got fried potatoes with mushrooms…*
*Aunt Lydia, Im on a diet!* She rolled her eyes. *No fried food. And I dont eat after six.*
*But its nine…*
*Exactly. So Im not eating.*
I put the kettle on and dug out the digestives. Emily wrinkled her nose.
*Cant have those either. Anything sugar-free?*
*Theres wholemeal bread…?*
*Still carbs. Fine, just tea.*
Back in the living room, some American film blared. Emily stared, unblinking. I picked up my knitting but couldnt focus. Shed arrived this morning, said shed stay the night, then leave. At first, I was thrilledshes always up in London, busy with work. But now she sat there, silent, as if doing me a favour.
*Em,* I ventured, *howve you been? Work alright?*
*Fine,* she said, not turning.
*And James? Werent you two talking about marriage?*
She flinched, finally looking away from the telly.
*We broke up. Six months ago.*
*Oh, love! What happened?*
*Nothing dramatic. Just… not right for each other.*
I set my knitting aside. So that was that. Id been eyeing wedding guest dresses for months. Wanted to press further, but her expression said *drop it.*
*And work? Still at that firm, the… you know…*
*Quit. Last month.*
*What? You were there three years!*
*Was. Now Im not. Looking for something else.*
*But how are you managing?*
*Aunt Lydia!* She spun to face me. *Why the interrogation? Im getting by.*
*Sorry, darling. I just worry.*
*Dont. Im a grown-up.*
We lapsed into silence. I stole glances at her. Shed lost weight, gone pale. Her eyes dullnothing like the bright, giggling girl whod fill Grans house with noise. Now she sat like a stranger.
The kettle whistled. Emily jumped up first.
*Ill make it!* she called from the kitchen.
I heard cupboards slam. Thensudden quiet. I went to check.
She stood by the window, clutching an empty mug. Her shoulders shook.
*Em? Whats wrong?*
*Nothing,* she sniffed. *Just… tired. So tired.*
I hugged her. She didnt pull awayleaned into me, like she used to.
*Talk to me, love.*
*Its everything, Aunt Lydia. James said I was boring, plain. Work was worsemy boss humiliated me. I quit. Now I cant find anything. Rents due, and Ive barely got pennies.*
*Oh, sweetheart! Why didnt you tell me? Wed figure something out!*
*Like what?* She wiped her eyes. *Your pensions stretched thin. And Im supposed to handle my own mess.*
*Rubbish! Familys there for hard times.*
She gave a bitter laugh. *What family? Mums wrapped up with her new bloke. Brothersones in Berlin, the other in Edinburgh. The rest? Havent seen them in years.*
*But Im here!*
*You are,* she said softly. *But what can you do? Youre barely scraping by.*
I had no answer. True, my pensions meagre. But this wasnt about money. Why had she shut everyone out?
We drank tea in the lounge. Emily calmed down, even ate a few biscuitsdiet forgotten.
*Remember,* I said, *when youd visit Gran in summer? Wed pick blackberries in the woods.*
She smiled. *And youd tell me stories.*
*We baked, too. You always sneaked raw dough.*
*Gran would shout, Ems eaten it all again!* She laughedproperly, for the first time all evening. *Then shed say, Fine, Ill make more for my girl.*
*She adored you.*
*I adored her. Wish shed…* Her voice cracked. *I miss her, Aunt Lydia.*
*Me too, love.*
A pause. Then, out of nowhere:
*Ever regret not marrying? Not having kids?*
I blinked. *I was married.*
*Yeah, to Uncle John. But that was… short.*
*Three years isnt nothing.*
*But no children.*
*No,* I admitted. *Didnt happen.*
*And you regret it?*
*Course. But life goes how it goes.*
Emily frowned. *Maybe its family fateliving for others, not ourselves.*
*Whose life is ours if not the one were in?*
*Dunno,* she sighed. *The one we choose, maybe. Not the one that just… happens.*
*You think people really choose? We muddle through, then call it choice after.*
She nodded slowly. *Maybe youre right. AnywayId better go. Dont want to be late.*
She kissed my cheek and left. I watched her go, hoping shed get the jobnot just for the money, but to feel useful again. Poor girls spirit was worn to threads.
That evening, she rang.
*Aunt Lydia, I got it! Start tomorrow.*
*Brilliant! Hows the boss?*
*Seem decent. Cafés new. Said if it goes well, I might move up to manager.*
*See? Things look up!*
*Too soon to celebrate. But at least its wages. Aunt Lydia… can I visit sometimes? Not to stay. Just… to be here.*
*Always, love. My doors open.*
*Thanks. Its… peaceful here. Feels like home.*
*It is your home, Em. Always has been.*
After, I sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea and thinking. Time flies. That little girls a woman now, carrying wounds I cant heal. Maybe shes rightwe all live lives we didnt quite pick. I came to care for Mum, then stayed out of habit. Emily took that job, stayed with James because it was *there*. Now shes serving coffeenot by choice, but necessity.
But perhaps thats life. Not grand plans, just doing what needs doing. Loving who needs love. And whether we call it choice or chance hardly mattersso long as we do it kindly.
