**Diary Entry 12th October**
*”We werent expecting you,”* my sister said, and shut the door.
*”Mum died three days ago, and youre only just getting here?”* The voice on the other end of the phone trembled with barely controlled anger.
I pressed the phone between my ear and shoulder, struggling to hold my heavy suitcase while fumbling for the car keys. The rain lashed harder, drumming against the stations awning.
*”Emma, I explainedI was on assignment in the Scottish Highlands. There was no signal. The second I found out, I got on the first flight.”*
*”Work was more important than Mum?”*
*”Dont start. Im on my way. Ill be there in an hour.”*
She hung up. I climbed into the rented car and sat for a moment, staring at the rain-blurred lights of the city. My hometown. The place Id left fifteen years ago, determined to make it in London. Mum had cried. Dad said nothing. And Emmamy little sisterhad screamed that I was a traitor.
The drive to my parents house took longer than expected. The city had changednew estates, shopping centres, roundabouts. But as I neared the old centre, the streets became familiar. There was the bakery where Emma and I used to buy warm teacakes. The school, its paint peeling. And finally, our streetquiet, with flowerbeds and benches by the front doors.
The house stood at the end of a cul-de-sac. A two-storey with an attic, once white, now grey with age. Lights glowed inside, shadows moving behind the curtains. I parked by the gate, grabbed my bag, and took a deep breath.
The gate wasnt locked. In the garden, tables were set under a canopythe wake. A few people smoked by the porch, speaking in hushed tones. They fell silent when they saw me.
*”Hello,”* I said.
No one answered. Aunt Jean, Mums best friend, turned away. Old Mr Harris, our neighbour, shook his head. I walked past them, climbed the steps, and pulled at the door.
Locked.
I rang the bell. Footsteps, the click of the latch. Emma appeared, older now, bitterness etched around her mouth, wearing a black dress.
*”We werent expecting you,”* she said, and closed the door.
I stood there, stunned. Behind me, whispers rose from the smokers. I rang again. Silence. Then knocked.
*”Emma! Emma, open up! This is ridiculous!”*
The door opened just enough for the chain to stretch taut.
*”Go away,”* she said. *”You dont belong here.”*
*”I came to say goodbye to Mum!”*
*”Youre too late. We buried her yesterday.”*
*”But you said she died three days ago!”*
*”And what? Thought youd make it in time? Fifteen years of nothing, and now you suddenly care?”*
*”Emma, let me in. Lets talk properly.”*
*”Properly? Like when Dad died? You didnt even come then!”*
*”I was in Kenya! On an expedition! No signal!”*
*”Always an excuse. Kenya, Norway, work trips. Meanwhile, Mum and I were here. She was ill for three years, Sophie. Three years! Where were you?”*
I had no answer. Id known Mum was ill. Sent money for treatment. But coming home? There was always somethingwork, projects, research.
*”I sent money.”*
*”Money?”* Emma laughed bitterly. *”She didnt need your cheques. She needed you. Her daughter. But you chose your career.”*
*”Thats not fair.”*
*”Whats not fair? That I quit my job to care for her? That my husband left because I spent more time at the hospital than home? That my son barely knows me because I was always with his grandmother?”*
The door slammed. I stepped off the porch, sat on the garden bench. The rain had stopped, but water dripped from the trees. Inside, voices murmured, plates clinked.
*”Sophie?”* A womans voice.
I turned. A stranger, mid-forties, stood there.
*”Im Fiona, your neighbour. We moved in five years ago. Your mum talked about you all the time.”*
*”Really?”*
*”She was so proud. Said her daughter was a scientist, travelling the world, publishing papers. Shed show us newspaper clippings.”*
My eyes stung.
*”Did she mention I abandoned her?”*
*”You didnt. Life just takes us different ways. Margaret understood that.”*
*”Emma doesnt.”*
*”Shes angry. Its been hard. But that doesnt make her right.”*
Fiona sat beside me.
*”Your mum left you a letter. Asked me to give it to you if you came.”*
She handed me an envelope. Mums handwriting: *”For Sophie.”*
*”Thank you.”* My hands shook as I took it.
Fiona left. I sat there, terrified to open it. Finally, I stood, walked to the car. Just then, Uncle JamesMums brotherstepped out.
*”Sophie? You came.”*
*”Uncle James.”* I hugged him. *”At least someones glad to see me.”*
*”Of course I am. Come inside.”*
*”Emma wont let me.”*
*”Nonsense. This is your home too.”*
He took my hand, led me back to the door, and unlocked it himself.
*”Emma!”* he called. *”Sophies here.”*
She came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
*”Uncle James, I asked”*
*”No, you didnt. Sophie has every right to be here. This was her home too.”*
*”The home she abandoned!”*
*”Enough. Your mum wouldnt have wanted this.”*
*”How would you know?”*
*”Because I sat with her at the end. She talked about Sophie constantly. Begged me to tell her she was forgiven if she couldnt make it back.”*
Emma pressed her hands to her face.
*”Its not fair. I did everything for her, and all she talked about was Sophie.”*
Uncle James hugged her. *”She loved you both. Just differently. You were here. Sophie wasnt. We worry more about the ones who are far away.”*
Inside, about twenty people sat around the wake. Relatives, neighbours, Mums friends. They fell silent when I entered.
*”Hello,”* I said.
A few nodded. Others looked away. Aunt Mary, Dads sister, stood and came over.
*”Sophie, Im so sorry. Your mum was a wonderful woman.”*
*”Thank you, Aunt Mary.”*
Slowly, others approached, offering condolences. Only Emma stayed in the corner, arms crossed.
*”Sit, eat,”* Aunt Jean said, setting a plate before me. *”You must be starving.”*
*”Im not hungry.”*
*”You should. Your mum wouldve wanted it.”*
I picked up a spoon, tasted the soup. Mums recipe. A lump rose in my throat.
*”Tell us about your work,”* Uncle James said. *”Your mum said youre at the Oceanographic Institute now?”*
*”Yes. Researching marine ecosystems.”*
*”Travel much?”*
*”Constantly. Expeditions, conferences.”*
*”Still not married?”* Aunt Mary asked.
*”No. Never happened.”*
*”Career woman,”* Emma muttered. *”Family doesnt matter.”*
*”Emma, enough,”* Uncle James warned.
*”What? Its true. No husband, no kids. Just work.”*
I stood.
*”You know what? Yes, I chose my career. And I dont regret it. My research helps protect the ocean for future generations.”*
*”But you couldnt protect your own mother,”* Emma shot back.
*”Cancer doesnt care about research!”*
*”But being there helps! Holding her hand, making tea, staying up when she was in pain!”*
*”I couldnt do it!”* I shouted. *”Understand? I couldnt watch her fade away! Im a coward, fine! I ran! But that doesnt mean I didnt love her!”*
Silence. Emma stepped closer.
*”Know what she said at the end? Wheres my Sophie? Why isnt she here? And I lied. Told her you were coming. Every day, I lied.”*
*”Im sorry.”*
*”For what? That I carried it all alone? That Mum died whispering your name, not mine?”*
*”Emma”*
*”No, listen. You show up now, cry at the wake, then go back to your perfect life. Im left here. With an empty house, medical debts, a son growing up without a father.”*
*”What debts? I sent money.”*
*”Not enough. I had to remortgage the house.”*
*”What? Why didnt you tell me?”*
*”Pride. And what would it change? Youd send more cheques? No thanks.”*
I pulled out my phone.
*”What are you doing?”*
*”Calling the bank. Ill clear the debt.”*
*”Sophie, dont”*
*”I want to. I can do this much.”*
As I spoke to the bank, guests began leaving. Soon, only Emma, Uncle James, and I remained.
*”Girls,”* he said. *”Stop fighting. Your mum wouldnt have wanted this.”*
*”Mum didnt want a lot of things,”* Emma mumbled. *”But thats life.”*
*”Read it,”* he said, nodding at the letter in my hands. *”Might help.”*
He left. Emma and I stood alone. I opened the envelope.
*”My dear Sophie, I know you blame yourself. Dont. Im not angry. Youre living your life as you should. Im proud of you. Proud my daughter is a scientist, doing important work. Emmas angry, but shell come around. Shes good, just tired. Help each other. Youre sisters. Same blood. Your dad wouldve hated this feud. Take care, my love. Know Ive always loved you. Mum.”*
I handed the letter to Emma. She read it, sat down, and cried.
*”Typical her. Always forgiving everyone.”*
*”She was kind.”*
*”Too kind. Im the bitter one. Angry at you, at myself, at the world.”*
I sat beside her, put an arm around her.
*”You have every right. I *was* selfish.”*
*”But Mum forgave you.”*
*”Will you?”*
She wiped her eyes.
*”Maybe. Not yet.”*
*”Fair enough.”*
We sat together in the quiet. Outside, night fell. The house smelled of funeral food and flowers.
*”Tell me about Mum,”* I said. *”The last few years.”*
*”Whats to tell? She was ill, in treatment, hopeful. Read a lot. Knew your papers by heart. Bragged to the neighbours.”*
*”And at the end?”*
*”Went peacefully. In her sleep. I brought tea in the morning, and she was gone. Looked almost… smiling.”*
*”At least she wasnt in pain.”*
*”She was. Just hid it. Said there was no point upsetting us.”*
*”Usmeaning you and me?”*
*”And Jake. My son. He adored her more than me.”*
*”Where is he now?”*
*”At a friends. Didnt want him at the wake. Hes only ten.”*
*”Can I meet him?”*
*”Tomorrow. If youre staying.”*
*”I am. Theres the house to sort, paperwork.”*
*”And then? Back to London?”*
I hesitated.
*”I dont know. Work…”*
*”Of course. Work always comes first.”*
*”Emma, I cant just quit. People depend on me.”*
*”And I dont?”*
*”What do you mean?”*
*”Im tired, Sophie. Ten years alone with a kid. Three with a dying mum. Sometimes Id like someone to take care of *me*.”*
*”Move to London.”*
*”What?”*
*”Live with me. Ive got a three-bed flat. Jake can go to a good school. Youll find work.”*
*”Youre serious?”*
*”Completely. Sell the house, clear the debts. Fresh start.”*
Emma shook her head.
*”I cant. This is my home. *Our* home.”*
*”Home isnt bricks. Its people. And people can be anywhere.”*
*”Easy for you to say. Youre used to moving.”*
*”Just think about it. Dont decide yet.”*
The next morning, I woke in my old room. Nothing had changedsame floral wallpaper, same desk, same books. Like time had stood still.
Downstairs, Emma cooked breakfast. Beside her sat a boyher mirror image. Same brown eyes, stubborn chin.
*”Jake, this is Aunt Sophie. My sister.”*
*”Hello,”* he said, offering a hand.
*”Hi, Jake. Your mums told me about you.”*
*”Gran talked about you too. Said you study whales.”*
*”Not just whales. The whole ocean.”*
*”Cool. Can I come on an expedition?”*
*”Jake,”* Emma chided.
*”Sure,”* I smiled. *”When youre older.”*
*”How longs that?”*
*”Eight years.”*
*”Thats forever!”*
Over breakfast, he asked endless questions. About the ocean, marine life, my travels.
*”Mum, can we visit Aunt Sophie in London?”* he burst out.
*”Jake”*
*”Theyve got an aquarium! And museums! And”*
*”Well see,”* Emma said.
Later, we visited the cemetery. Fresh earth, a temporary marker, wreaths. I laid white rosesMums favourite.
*”Forgive me, Mum,”* I whispered.
Emma took my hand.
*”She already did. You read the letter.”*
*”Still hurts.”*
*”It will. But not forever.”*
We stood there, holding hands. Two sisters, so different, yet bound together.
*”You know,”* Emma said. *”Ill think about London.”*
*”Really?”*
*”Jake deserves good schools. Theres nothing for him here.”*
*”Ill help. With everything.”*
*”I know. You always did. In your own way.”*
As we walked back, Emma stopped suddenly.
*”Remember when we were kids? How we promised wed live together when we grew up?”*
*”You wanted a big house with a garden.”*
*”And you wanted a flat by the sea.”*
*”Well, no sea in London. But theres the Thames.”*
*”Close enough,”* Emma smiled. *”For now.”*
That evening, as I packed to leave, Emma walked me to the car.
*”Sorry about yesterday. The anger… it just took over.”*
*”I get it. Id have done the same.”*
*”No, you wouldnt. You dont hold grudges. Thats me.”*
*”But youre honest. That matters more.”*
We huggedtight, real. Like when we were kids, before the resentments.
*”Come back in a month,”* she said. *”Help me move.”*
*”Ill be here.”*
*”And dont vanish for fifteen years again.”*
*”I wont. Promise.”*
I got in the car, waved. Emma and Jake stood by the gate, waving back. The house behind them looked less lonely somehow.
On the way to the airport, I thought about what Mum had written. Home isnt a place. Its the people. And those people should stick together, forgive mistakes, help each other.
I texted Emma: *”Thanks for opening the door. The second time.”*
Her reply came fast: *”It was always open. I was just in the way. Wont happen again.”*
I smiled. Itll be alright. Mum wouldve been glad.
